“The tale is arduous and confused, alas,” he said, striding to join Baruk at the window. His handkerchief had disappeared. “Kruppe can only surmise as best a man of innumerable talents may. In moments of leisure, during games of chance and the like. In the aura of the Twins an Adept may hear, see, smell, and touch things as insubstantial as the wind. A taste of Lady Luck, the bitter warning of the Lord's Laughter.” Kruppe's gaze snapped to the alchemist. “Do you follow, Master?”
His eyes riveted on the man's round face, Baruk said quietly, “You speak of Oponn.”
Kruppe looked back down at the street. “Perhaps. Perhaps a grim feint meant to mislead such as foolish Kruppe-”
Foolish? Baruk smiled inwardly. Not this man.
“Who who can say?” Kruppe raised a hand, showing in his palm a flat disc of wax. “An item,” he said softly, his eyes on the disc, “that passes without provenance, pursued by many who thirst for its cold kiss, on which life and all that lay within life is often gambled. Alone, a beggar's crown. In great numbers, a king's folly. Weighted with ruin, yet blood washes from it beneath the lightest rain, and to the next no hint of its cost. It is as it is, says Kruppe, worthless but for those who insist otherwise.”
Baruk was holding his breath. His lungs burned, yet it was an effort to release them. Kruppe's words had drawn him into something-a place, hinting of vast stores of knowledge and the sure, unfailing, epreci_e hand that had gathered it, marked it on parchment. A library, shelves of black wood in sharp relief, tomes bound to shiny leather, yellowed scrolls, a pitted, stained desk-Baruk felt he had but stolen a single glance into this chamber. Kruppe's mind, the secret place with its door locked to all but one. “You speak,” Baruk said slowly, fighting to pull back into reality by focusing on the wax disc in Kruppe's hand, “of a coin.”
Kruppe's hand snapped shut. He turned and set the disc down on the window-sill. “Examine this semblance, Master Baruk. It marks both sides of a single coin.” The handkerchief reappeared and Kruppe stepped back, dabbing his brow. “My, but it is hot, says Kruppe!”
“Help yourself to some wine,” Baruk murmured. As the man left his side the alchemist opened his Warren. He gestured and the wax disc rose into the air, slowly moving to hover before him at eye-level. He studied the imprint facing him. “The Lady,” he muttered, nodding. The disc turned, revealing to him the Lord. The disc turned again, and Baruk's eyes widened as it began spinning. A whirring sound filled the back of his head. He felt his Warren resisting a pressure that grew with the sound, then his source collapsed.