Memories of Ice

'As are we all,' D'Arle drawled after a moment.

Dujek, his eyes narrowed on Kruppe, cleared his throat. 'Well, much as I hate to admit it, there's something in that.' He swung his gaze to Estraysian. 'Catlin River only presents a problem if we look to employing the south routes. And we'd only want those if the armies seek to cross early in the march.'

Both councillors frowned.

'It is our intent,' Brood explained, 'to remain north of the river, to march directly towards Capustan. Our route will take us north of Saltoan … well north. Then proceed in a southeast direction.'

Coll spoke. 'You describe a direct route to Capustan, sir, for your forces. Such a route will, however, strain our efforts at maintaining supply. We will not be able to deliver via the river. An overland train of such magnitude will sorely test our capabilities.'

'It must be understood,' Estraysian D'Arle added, 'that the Council must needs deal with private enterprises in fulfilling your supply needs.'

'Such delicacy!' Kruppe cried. 'The issues, martial comrades, are these. The Council of Darujhistan consists of various noble houses, of which virtually one and all possess interests in mercantile endeavours. Discounting the potentially confusing reality of the Council's providing vast loans to your armies with which you will in turn purchase supplies from the Council, the particular nature of the redistribution of said wealth is paramount to specific members of the Council. The vying, the back-chamber deals and conniving — well! One would be hard-pressed to imagine such a nightmarish tangle of weights, measures, wefts and webs, dare Kruppe say! The instructions delivered to these two worthy representatives are no doubt manifest, not to mention a veritable skein of conflicting commands. The councillors here before you are thus constrained by a knot that not even the gods could disentangle! It falls to Kruppe, lowly but worthy citizen of fair Darujhistan, to propose his and Master Baruk's solution.'

Coll leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. 'Let's hear it, then, Kruppe.'

'An impartial and exquisitely competent manager of said supply is required, of course. Not on the Council and therefore possessing nothing of the internal pressures so afflicting its honourable members. Skilled, as well, in mercantile matters. A vast capacity for organizing. In all, a superior-'

Coll's fist thumped down on the table, startling everyone. He rounded on Kruppe. 'If you imagine yourself in such a role — you, a middling fence to middling pickpockets and warehouse thieves-'

But the small, round man raised his hands and leaned back. 'Dear friend Coll! You flatter me with such an offer! However, poor Kruppe is far too busy with his own middling affairs to tackle such an endeavour. Nay, in close consultation with his loyal and wise servant Kruppe, Master Baruk proposes a different agent entirely-'

'What is all this?' Coll hissed dangerously. 'Baruk doesn't even know you're here!'

'A minor breakdown in communication, nothing more. The alchemist's desire was plain to Kruppe, he assures you one and all! Whilst Kruppe may well and with some justification claim sole credit for the impending proposal, alas, he must bow to the virtue of truthfulness and therefore acknowledge Master Baruk's minor — yet vital — contribution. Why, it was only yesterday that he mused on the peculiar talents of the agent in question, and if this was not a hint as to his desires, then what, dear Coll, could it have been?'

'Get on with it, sir,' Estraysian D'Arle grated.

'Kruppe delights in doing so, friend Councillor — and by the way, how fares your daughter, Challice? Has she indeed partaken of marriage nuptials with that hero of the fete? Kruppe so regrets his missing that no doubt sumptuous event-'

'Which has yet to occur,' D'Arle snapped. 'She is well, sir. My patience with you is growing very thin, Kruppe-'

'Alas, I can only dream of thin. Very well, the agent in question is none other than the newly arrived mercantile enterprise known as the Trygalle Trade Guild.' Beaming, he sat back, lacing his fingers together over his belly.

Brood turned to Coll. 'An enterprise I have never heard of…'

The councillor was frowning. 'As Kruppe said, newly arrived in Darujhistan. From the south — Elingarth, I believe. We used them but once — a singularly difficult delivery of funds to Dujek Onearm.' He looked to Estraysian D'Arle, who shrugged, then spoke.

'They have made no bids regarding the contracts to supply the combined armies. Indeed, they have sent no representative to the meetings — that single use of them Coll mentioned was a sub-contract, I believe.' He swung a scowl on Kruppe. 'Given their obvious lack of interest, why would you — or, rather, Master Baruk — believe that this Trygalle Trade Guild is amenable to participating, much less acting as mitigator?'

Kruppe poured himself another tankard of ale, sipped, then smacked his lips appreciatively. 'The Trygalle Trade Guild does not offer bids, for every other enterprise would be sure to greatly underbid them without even trying. In other words, they are not cheap. More exactly, their services demand a king's ransom generally. One thing you can be sure of, however, is that they will do precisely what they have been hired to do, no matter how … uh, nightmarish … the logistics.'

'You've invested in them, haven't you, Kruppe?' Coll's face had darkened. 'So much for impartial advice — and Baruk has absolutely nothing to do with you being here. You're acting on behalf of this Trygalle Trade Guild, aren't you?'

'Kruppe assures, the conflict of interest is a matter of appearance only, friend Coll! The truth is more precisely a convergence. The needs are evident here before us all, and so too is the means of answering them! Happy coincidence! Now, Kruppe would partake of more of these delicious Rhivi cakes, whilst you discuss the merits of said proposal and no doubt reach the propitious, inevitable conclusion.'

Crone could smell sorcery in the air. And it doesn't belong. No, not Tiste Andii, not the Rhivi spirits awakened either … She circled over the encampment, questing with all her senses. The afternoon had drawn into dusk, then night, as the meeting within Caladan Brood's command tent stretched on, and on. The Great Raven was quickly bored by interminable discussions of caravan routes and how many tons of this and that were required on a weekly basis to keep two armies fed and content on the march. Granted, that repugnant creature Kruppe was amusing enough, in the manner that an obese rat trying to cross a rope bridge was worth a cackle or three. A finely honed mind dwelt beneath the smeared, grotesque affectations, she well knew, and his ability at earning his seat at the head of the table and of confounding the flailing councillors of Darujhistan was most certainly an entertaining enough display of deftness … until Crone had sensed the stirrings of magic somewhere in the camp.

There, that large tent directly below … I know it. The place where the Rhivi dress the Tiste Andii dead. Crooking her wings, she dropped in a tight spiral.

She landed a few paces from the entrance. The flap was drawn shut, tightly tied, but the leather thongs and their knots were poor obstacles for Crone's sharp beak. In moments she was within, hopping silently and unseen beneath the huge table — a table she recognized with a silent chuckle — and among a few scattered folded cots in the darkness.

Four figures leaned on the table above her, whispering and muttering. The muted clatter of wooden cards echoed through to Crone, and she cocked her head.

'There it is again,' a gravelly-voiced woman said. 'You sure you shuffled the damned things, Spin?'

'Will you — of course I did, Corporal. Stop asking me. Look, four times now, different laying of the fields every one, and it's simple. Obelisk dominates — the dolmen of time is the core. It's active, plain as day — the first time in decades. '