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Authors: Ian C. Esslemont
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their own … well … similar research.’
Ebbin cleared his throat, uncomfortable. ‘I see.’
Aman tucked the package under the countertop. ‘And how may I help
you
, good scholar?’
‘I’ve come to a chamber. One still sealed.’
The shopkeeper’s fingers, which had been tapping the counter like spiders, stilled. ‘In truth?’ he breathed in wonder. ‘Sealed as yet? Astonishing. You must take care, good scholar. The traps these ancients set upon their interred …’ He shook his misshapen head. ‘Deadly.’
‘Of course, Aman. I know the risks. I am no amateur.’
‘Of course,’ the shopkeeper echoed, smiling to reveal a mouthful of misaligned teeth. ‘The barrier?’
Ebbin cleared his throat once more. ‘Stone. A flat slab. Unmarked in any way.’
‘Unmarked, you say? No sigils of any sort? Not even the faintest of inscriptions?’
Ebbin frowned, impatient. ‘I know my work. I’ve been excavating for decades.’
Aman raised his hands. ‘No disrespect intended, good scholar. Please. It is just very … unusual.’
An uncomfortable shivering took Ebbin then and he rubbed his chest, nodding his agreement. ‘Yes. It is … unusual.’
‘An unimportant personage, perhaps. A minor court retainer.’
Ebbin thought of the figure laid out on its onyx bier at the chamber’s centre. The beaten gold mask with its eerie mocking smile, and the bands of skulls encircling the plinth. Nested circlets of death. He nodded, shivering. ‘Yes. My impression exactly.’
Aman appeared to be studying him somehow, his gaze weighing. Then the man quickly turned away to his shelves. ‘I may have just the tools for you, good scholar. Moranth alchemicals … acids, perhaps? Or chisels. Not your everyday sort of tool, no, not at all. Hardened iron, alloyed with that Malazan mineral otataral. If you give me a few days I will have them for you.’
‘You have nothing like that here?’
A dry laugh from the man. ‘Oh my goodness, no. That mineral would have a most deleterious effect upon … upon my wares.’
Ebbin could only agree. ‘If you say so, sir. A few days then. I have to consult with my backer in any case.’
‘Excellent, excellent.’ And he bobbed his head, his knotted fingers tapping incessantly on the counter.
~
Once every bolt had been shut and every bar replaced, Aman shuffled back into his shop. Here he found a beautiful young woman, her long black hair braided and coiled atop her head, awaiting him. His mouth tightened into a sour pucker. ‘Your
intrusion
into my affairs is most ill-advised. Most unwelcome.’
The girl merely cocked a shapely hip to lean against the counter where she turned the wrapped package in slow circles. ‘Why are we relying on this cretin?’
‘We? There is no
we
. You are deluded. Your uninvited meddling will complicate matters most stressfully.’
‘They were watching the shop, Aman.’
The man hobbled back up on to his platform behind the counter. ‘Watching the shop? Of course they were watching the shop. They are always watching the shop! These agents of my one-time allies have proved most persistent. But because I remain within, and am
circumspect
… they have been none the wiser.’ He gently touched his fingertips to the wood countertop. ‘Needless to say, said circumspection has now been shattered …’
‘They are dead, Aman.’
The shopkeeper started to speak, caught himself, rubbed his hands over the countertop as if stroking it. He began again, slowly, ‘Yes. However, the one who hired them now knows he, or she, is close to something. Best to have maintained the aura of mystery.’
The girl’s pale thin shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug. She began unwrapping the package. ‘Then I will kill whoever that person is.’
‘Ah yes. Speaking of mysteries. No one knows the identity of the circle-breaker. Many poseurs have surfaced pretending to the title, but no one knows for certain. It may have even been one of my old allies – even
Ebbin cleared his throat, uncomfortable. ‘I see.’
Aman tucked the package under the countertop. ‘And how may I help
you
, good scholar?’
‘I’ve come to a chamber. One still sealed.’
The shopkeeper’s fingers, which had been tapping the counter like spiders, stilled. ‘In truth?’ he breathed in wonder. ‘Sealed as yet? Astonishing. You must take care, good scholar. The traps these ancients set upon their interred …’ He shook his misshapen head. ‘Deadly.’
‘Of course, Aman. I know the risks. I am no amateur.’
‘Of course,’ the shopkeeper echoed, smiling to reveal a mouthful of misaligned teeth. ‘The barrier?’
Ebbin cleared his throat once more. ‘Stone. A flat slab. Unmarked in any way.’
‘Unmarked, you say? No sigils of any sort? Not even the faintest of inscriptions?’
Ebbin frowned, impatient. ‘I know my work. I’ve been excavating for decades.’
Aman raised his hands. ‘No disrespect intended, good scholar. Please. It is just very … unusual.’
An uncomfortable shivering took Ebbin then and he rubbed his chest, nodding his agreement. ‘Yes. It is … unusual.’
‘An unimportant personage, perhaps. A minor court retainer.’
Ebbin thought of the figure laid out on its onyx bier at the chamber’s centre. The beaten gold mask with its eerie mocking smile, and the bands of skulls encircling the plinth. Nested circlets of death. He nodded, shivering. ‘Yes. My impression exactly.’
Aman appeared to be studying him somehow, his gaze weighing. Then the man quickly turned away to his shelves. ‘I may have just the tools for you, good scholar. Moranth alchemicals … acids, perhaps? Or chisels. Not your everyday sort of tool, no, not at all. Hardened iron, alloyed with that Malazan mineral otataral. If you give me a few days I will have them for you.’
‘You have nothing like that here?’
A dry laugh from the man. ‘Oh my goodness, no. That mineral would have a most deleterious effect upon … upon my wares.’
Ebbin could only agree. ‘If you say so, sir. A few days then. I have to consult with my backer in any case.’
‘Excellent, excellent.’ And he bobbed his head, his knotted fingers tapping incessantly on the counter.
~
Once every bolt had been shut and every bar replaced, Aman shuffled back into his shop. Here he found a beautiful young woman, her long black hair braided and coiled atop her head, awaiting him. His mouth tightened into a sour pucker. ‘Your
intrusion
into my affairs is most ill-advised. Most unwelcome.’
The girl merely cocked a shapely hip to lean against the counter where she turned the wrapped package in slow circles. ‘Why are we relying on this cretin?’
‘We? There is no
we
. You are deluded. Your uninvited meddling will complicate matters most stressfully.’
‘They were watching the shop, Aman.’
The man hobbled back up on to his platform behind the counter. ‘Watching the shop? Of course they were watching the shop. They are always watching the shop! These agents of my one-time allies have proved most persistent. But because I remain within, and am
circumspect
… they have been none the wiser.’ He gently touched his fingertips to the wood countertop. ‘Needless to say, said circumspection has now been shattered …’
‘They are dead, Aman.’
The shopkeeper started to speak, caught himself, rubbed his hands over the countertop as if stroking it. He began again, slowly, ‘Yes. However, the one who hired them now knows he, or she, is close to something. Best to have maintained the aura of mystery.’
The girl’s pale thin shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug. She began unwrapping the package. ‘Then I will kill whoever that person is.’
‘Ah yes. Speaking of mysteries. No one knows the identity of the circle-breaker. Many poseurs have surfaced pretending to the title, but no one knows for certain. It may have even been one of my old allies – even
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