He turned to a grey-haired, stick-limbed old woman shorter even than he. A slip of a girl, Taya, in white dancing robes steadied the old woman at one arm. Mallick bowed reverently. ‘M'Lady.’
Taya steered Lady Batevari to the plushest chair and arranged herself on the carpeted floor beside, feet tucked under the robes that pooled around her. Her kohl-ringed eyes sparkled impishly up at Mallick from above her transparent dancer's veil. The footman entered carrying a tray of sweetmeats and drinks in tall crystal glasses. Mallick and Lady Batevari each took a glass.
‘The turmoil among the ranks of these so-called gods continues, Mallick,’ Batevari announced with clear relish. ‘And it is, of course, reflected here with appropriate turmoil in our mundane Realm.’
Mallick beamed his agreement. ‘Most certainly,’ he murmured.
She straightened, hands clenching like claws at the armrests. ‘They scurry like rats caught in a house aflame!’
Mallick choked into his drink. Gods, it was a wonder the woman's clients hadn't all thrown themselves into Unta Bay. Coughing, he shouted, ‘Yes. Certainly!’
Lady Batevari fell back into her chair. She emptied her glass in one long swallow. Taya gave Mallick a dramatic wink. ‘So, Hero of the crushing of the Seven Cities rebellion,’ the old woman intoned, her black eyes now slitted, ‘what can this poor vessel offer you? You, who have so far to go — and you will go far, Mallick. Very far indeed, as I have said many times…’
‘M'Lady is too kind.’
‘That was not a prediction, she sneered. ‘It is the truth. I have seen it.’
Mallick exchanged quick glances with Taya who rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘I am reassured,’ he answered, struggling to keep his naturally soft voice loud.
‘Should you be?’ Mallick fought a glare. ‘In any case,’ she continued, perhaps not noticing, ‘we were talking of the so-called gods.’ The woman stared off into the distance, silent for a long time.
Mallick examined her wrinkled face, her eyes almost lost in their puckered crow's-feet. Not more of her insufferable posing?
‘I see a mighty clash of wills closing upon us sooner than anyone imagines,‘ she crooned, dreamily. ‘I see schemes within schemes and a scurrying hither and thither! I see the New colliding against the Old and a Usurpation! Order inverted! And as the Houses collapse the powers turn upon one another like the rats they are. Brother ‘gainst sister. They all eye the injured but he is not the weakest. No, yet his time will come. The ones who seem the strongest are… Too long have they stood unchallenged! One hides in the dark while they all contend… Yet does he see his Path truly — if at all? The darkest — he-’ She gasped, coughing and hacking into a fist. ‘His Doom is so close at hand! As for the brightest… He is ever the most exposed while She who watches will miss her chance and the beasts arise to chase one last chance to survive this coming translation. So the Pantheon shall perish. And from the ashes will arise… will arise…’
Mallick, staring, drink forgotten despite his utter scepticism, raised a brow, ‘Yes? What?’
Lady Batevari blinked her sunken eyes. ‘Yes? What indeed?’ She held up her empty glass, frowned at it. ‘Hernon! More refreshments!’
Mallick pushed down an impulse to throttle the crone. Sometimes he, who should know better than anyone, sometimes even he wondered… he glanced to Taya. Her gaze on the old woman appeared uncharacteristically troubled.
‘Your presentiments and prophecies astonish me as always,’ he announced while Hernon, the servant, refilled the Lady's glass. She merely smiled loftily. ‘Your predictions regarding the Crimson Guard, for example,’ he said, watching Hernon leave the room. ‘They are definitely close now. Much closer than any know. As you foresaw. And a firm hand will be needed to forestall them…’
Draining her glass of wine in one long draught, Lady Batevari murmured dreamily, ‘As I foresaw… And now,’ she announced, struggling to rise while Taya hurried to help her. ‘I will leave you two to speak in private.’ A clawed hand swung to Mallick. ‘For I know your true motives for coming here to my humble home in exile, Mallick, Scourge of the Rebellion.’
Standing as well, Mallick put on a stiff smile. He and Taya shared a quick anxious glance. ‘Yes? You do?’
‘Yes, of course I do!’
Leaning close, she leered. ‘You would steal this young flower from my side, you rake! My companion who has been my only solace through my long exile from civilization at sweet Darujhistan.’ She raised a hand in mock surrender. ‘But who am I to stand between youth and passion!’
Bowing, Mallick waved aside any such intentions. ‘Never, m'Lady.’
‘So you say, Confounder of the Seven Cities Insurrection. But do not despair.’ Lady Batevari winked broadly. ‘She may yet yield. Do not abandon the siege.’ Taya lowered her face, covering her mouth.
Stifling her laughter, Mallick knew, feeling, oddly, a flash of irritation.
‘And so I am off to my quarters — to meditate upon the Ineffable. Hernon! Come!’
The footman returned and escorted Lady Batevari from the parlour. Mallick bowed and Taya curtsied. From the hall she called, ‘Remember, child, Hernon shall be just within should our guest forget himself and in the heat of passion press his suit too forcefully.’
Taya covered her mouth again — this time failing to completely mask a giggle. Mallick reflected with surprise on his spasm of anger. If only he knew for certain — senility or malicious insult? He poured himself another glass of the local Untan white.
Taya threw herself into the chair, laughing into both hands.
Mallick waited until certain the old hag was gone. He swirled the wine, noting the dregs gyring like a mist at the bottom. ‘Were not I so sure the waters shallow,’ he breathed, ‘profound depths I would sometime suspect.’
Smiling wickedly, Taya curled her legs beneath her. ‘It's her job to appear profound, Mallick. And she really is rather good — wouldn't you say?’
Mallick sipped the wine. Too dry for his liking. ‘And this speech? These current prophetic mouthings?’
‘Her most recent line.’ Taya rearranged the wispy dancer's scarves to expose her long arms. ‘Nothing too daring, when you think about it, what with Fener's fall, Trake's rise, eager new Houses in the Deck and swarms of new cards. Rather conventional, really.’
‘Yet a certain elegance haunts
Taya pulled back her long black hair, knotted it through itself. ‘If there is any elegance, Mallick, dear,’ she smiled, ‘it is all due to you.’
Mallick bowed.
‘So. The Crimson Guard.’ Taya stroked her fingers over the chair's padded rests. ‘I heard much of them in Darujhistan, of course. How I wish we had seen them there. They are coming?’
Mallick pursed his lips, thought about sitting opposite the girl, then decided against it. He paced while pretending to examine the artwork, cleared his throat. ‘Like the tide, they are close and cannot be forestalled. Their vow — it drags them ever onward. As always, their greatest strength and greatest weakness. And so standing idly by I do not see them.’
Taya's gaze flicked to Mallick. ‘Standing idly by during what?’
‘Why, during the current times of trouble, of course,’ he smiled blandly.
Affecting a pout, Taya blew an errant strand of hair from her face. ‘I do not like it when you hold out, Mallick. But never mind. I too have my sources, and I listen in on every one of the old bat's consultations. You would be surprised who comes to see her — then again, I suppose you wouldn't — and no one has such information. Do not tell me you have a source within the Guard.’
Mallick smiled as if at the quaintness of the suggestion and shook his head. ‘No, child. If you knew anything about the Guard such a thought would never occur. It is an impossibility.’
The girl shrugged. ‘Any organization can be penetrated. Especially a mercenary one.’