Rent? That would be the red welt in the air. Uh.
'You have examined the K'Chain Che'Malle tombs, Lady?'
She wrinkled her nose. 'Briefly. They are all empty, and have been for some time. Decades.'
Tool's head tilted with a soft creak. 'Only decades?'
'Unpleasant detail, indeed. I believe the Matron experienced considerable difficulty in extricating herself, then spent still further time in recovering from her ordeal, before releasing her children. She and her brood made further efforts in the buried city to the northwest, though incomplete, as if the results proved unsatisfactory. They then appear to have departed the area entirely.' She paused, then added, 'It may be relevant that the Matron was the original soul sealing the Rent. Another hapless creature resides there now, we must presume.'
The T'lan Imass nodded.
During the exchange Toc had been busy eating, and was on his second cup of the crisp, cold wine. Trying to make sense of the conversation thus far was giving him a headache — he'd mull on it later. 'I need to head north,' he said round a mouthful of grainy bread. 'Is there any chance, Lady, that you can furnish me with suitable supplies? I would be in your debt…' His words trailed away at seeing the avid flash in her eyes.
'Careful what you offer, young man-'
'No offence, but why do you call me "young man"? You look not a day over twenty-five.'
'How flattering. Thus, despite Tool's success in identifying me — and I admit that I find the depth of his knowledge most disconcerting — the names the T'lan Imass revealed meant little to you.'
Toc shrugged. 'Anomander Rake I've heard, of course. I didn't know he took a sword from someone else — nor when that event occurred. It strikes me, however, that you may well be justified in feeling some animosity towards him, since he killed your father — what was his name? Draconus. The Malazan Empire shares that dislike. So, in sharing enemies-'
'We are perforce allies. A reasonable surmise. Unfortunately wrong. Regardless, I would be pleased to provide what food and drink you are able to carry, though I have nothing in the way of weapons, I'm afraid. In return, I may some day ask of you a favour — nothing grand, of course. Something small and relatively painless. Is this acceptable?'
Toc felt his appetite draining away. He glanced at Tool, got no help from the undead warrior's expressionless face. The Malazan scowled. 'You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Envy.'
She smiled.
And here I was hoping we'd get past the polite civility to something more. intimate. Here you go again, Toc, thinking with the wrong brain -
Her smile broadened.