Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen 8)

The faintest scrape of a boot two paces behind him. Spinning round, ducking low as he did so, daggers flashing in both hands. Left blade half raised, point downward, into a guard position. Right blade darting out in a stop-thrust-

– and the figure leaned back with a soft grunt of surprise, tjaluk knife snapping out from beneath a cloak to block the dagger-

Cutter twisted his wrist to fold into that parry, flicking his blade’s edge into a deep slice across the base of the attacker’s gloved palm, even as he lunged forward-staying low-and slashed his left-hand dagger for the indent beneath his foe’s right kneecap.

Avoiding that attack very nearly toppled the man straight into Cutter’s arms, but Cutter had already slipped past, slicing both blades for thigh, then hip, as he darted by on the man’s left.

Amazingly, that heavy tjaluk caught every slash-and another of the oversized, hooked knives now appeared in the man’s other hand, straightening in a back-flung stop-thrust in case Cutter pivoted round to take him from behind. Cutter was forced to pitch hard to evade that damned fend, and, balanced on one leg, he threw the dagger in his left hand, side-arm, launching the weapon straight for the man’s shadowed face-

Sparks as-impossibly-the man batted the flying weapon aside.

A new knife already in that hand, Cutter made to launch yet another attack-then he skidded on his heels and leaned back into an all-out defence as the man came forward, his heavy knives whirling a skein before him.

Two of those! Two!

‘Wait!’ Cutter cried out. ‘Wait! Rallick? Rallick!’

The tjaluks withdrew. Blood spattered down from the one in the right hand-where the palm had been laid open. Dark eyes glittered from beneath the hood.

‘Rallick-it’s me. Cut-Crokus! Crokus Younghand!’

‘As I’d first thought,’ came the rumbling reply, ‘only to change my mind, in a hurry. But now, yes, it is you. Older-gods, I have indeed been away a long time.’

‘I cut your hand-I’m sorry-’

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The faintest scrape of a boot two paces behind him. Spinning round, ducking low as he did so, daggers flashing in both hands. Left blade half raised, point downward, into a guard position. Right blade darting out in a stop-thrust-

– and the figure leaned back with a soft grunt of surprise, tjaluk knife snapping out from beneath a cloak to block the dagger-

Cutter twisted his wrist to fold into that parry, flicking his blade’s edge into a deep slice across the base of the attacker’s gloved palm, even as he lunged forward-staying low-and slashed his left-hand dagger for the indent beneath his foe’s right kneecap.

Avoiding that attack very nearly toppled the man straight into Cutter’s arms, but Cutter had already slipped past, slicing both blades for thigh, then hip, as he darted by on the man’s left.

Amazingly, that heavy tjaluk caught every slash-and another of the oversized, hooked knives now appeared in the man’s other hand, straightening in a back-flung stop-thrust in case Cutter pivoted round to take him from behind. Cutter was forced to pitch hard to evade that damned fend, and, balanced on one leg, he threw the dagger in his left hand, side-arm, launching the weapon straight for the man’s shadowed face-

Sparks as-impossibly-the man batted the flying weapon aside.

A new knife already in that hand, Cutter made to launch yet another attack-then he skidded on his heels and leaned back into an all-out defence as the man came forward, his heavy knives whirling a skein before him.

Two of those! Two!

‘Wait!’ Cutter cried out. ‘Wait! Rallick? Rallick!’

The tjaluks withdrew. Blood spattered down from the one in the right hand-where the palm had been laid open. Dark eyes glittered from beneath the hood.

‘Rallick-it’s me. Cut-Crokus! Crokus Younghand!’

‘As I’d first thought,’ came the rumbling reply, ‘only to change my mind, in a hurry. But now, yes, it is you. Older-gods, I have indeed been away a long time.’

‘I cut your hand-I’m sorry-’

‘Not half as sorry as me, Crokus. You are in the Guild now, aren’t you? Who has trained you? Not Seba Krafar, that’s for sure. I don’t recognize the style at all-’

‘What? No, no Guild. Not anything like that, Rallick. I’ve been-wait, you said you’ve been gone? From Darujhistan? Where? How long? Not since that night behind Coil’s? But-’

‘Aye,’ Rallick cut in, ‘it’s you all right.’

‘Gods below,’ Cutter said, ‘but it’s so good to see you, Rallick Nom. I mean, if I’d known it was you at first-you shouldn’t come up on a man from behind like that. I could’ve killed you!’

The assassin stood studying him.

Suddenly trembling, Cutter sheathed his knives, then began looking around for the one he’d thrown. ’Two of those pig-choppers-who else would use those? I should’ve realized when I saw the first one. I’m so sorry, Rallick. Instincts took over. They just… took over.’

‘You did not heed my warning, then.’

Years ago, those dark, angry words, but Cutter did not need to ask what warning? He remembered it all too well. ‘I would have,’ he said, pausing in his search.

‘Trully, Rallick, I went with the Malazans, you see and Apsalar, Fiddler, Kalam, the four of us, to Seven Cities. Where everything,,. changed,’

‘When did you return, Crokus?’

‘Today. Tonight.’ He glanced ruefully at the entrance to the Phoenix Inn. ‘I’ve not even gone inside yet, It’s,,. changed-aye, that word is already starting to haunt me.’ He resumed his hunt. ‘I suppose I should have expected it-where in Hood’s name did that knife go, dammit?;

Rallick leaned back against a wall. ‘The one you aimed at my throat?’

‘Yes-I’m so-’

‘Yes, you’re sorry. Well, you won’t find it down there. Try my left shoulder.’

‘Oh, the thickness of blood! Darujhistan and her hundred thousand hearts and each and every one beats for none other than this hale, most generous resident of the Phoenix Inn! Seated here at this most grand of tables-although surely Meese should attend to this wobbly leg-nay, not mine, though that would be delicious indeed and well beyond common service in said establishment-with-where was Kruppe? Oh yes, with nary fell company to jiggle awake the night! Tell prescient Kruppe, yon friends, why the glowing faces belied by fretful eyes? Did Kruppe not promise boons galore? Pressures eased? Panics prevented? Purses packed with precious baubles all aglitter? Drink up-oh, humble apologies, we shall order more anon, ’tis a promise most pertinent should one elect to toast this, that and, perchance, t’other!’