The Lady Sinital paced. These last few days too much of her hard-won gold had been spent smoothing the waters. That damn bitch of Lim's had not let grief get in the way of her greed. Barely two days shrouded in black and then out on the courts hanging on that fop Murillio's arm, smug as a tart at a ball.
Sinital's pencilled brows knitted slightly. Murillio: that young man had a way of being seen. He might be worth cultivation, all things considered.
She stopped pacing and faced the man sprawled on her bed. “So, you've learned nothing.” A hint of contempt had slipped into her tone and she wondered if he'd caught it.
Councilman Turban Orr, his heavily scarred forearm covering his eyes, did not move as he replied, “I've told you all this. There's no knowing where that poisoned quarrel came from, Sinital. Hell, poisoned! What assassin uses poison these days? Vorcan's got them so studded with magic everything else is obsolete.”
“You're digressing,” she said, satisfied that he'd missed the careless unveiling of her sentiments.
“It's like I said,” Orr continued. “Lim was involved in more than one, uh, delicate venture. The assassination's probably unconnected with you. It could have been anyone's balcony, it just happened to be yours.”
Lady Sinital crossed her arms. “I don't believe in coincidence, Turban. Tell me, was it coincidence that his death broke your majority-the night before the vote?” She saw the man's cheek twitch and knew she'd stung him. She smiled and moved to the bed. She sat and ran a hand along his bared thigh. “In any case, have you checked on him lately?”
“Him?”
Sinital scowled, withdrawing her hand and standing. “My beloved dispossessed, you idiot.”
Turban Orr's mouth curved into a smug smile. “I always keep a check on him for you, my dear. Nothing's changed in that area. He hasn't sobered up since you threw him out on his arse.” The man sat up and reached to the bedpost where his clothes hung. He began dressing.
Sinital whirled to him. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice strident.
“What's it look like?” Turban pulled on his breeches. “The debate rages on at Majesty Hall. My influence is required.”
“To do what? Bend yet another councilman to your will?”
He slipped on his silk shirt, still smiling. “That, and other things.”
Sinital rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course-the spy. I'd forgotten about him.”
“Personally,” Orr resumed, “I believe the proclamation of neutrality to the Malazans will go through-perhaps tomorrow or the next day.”
She laughed harshly. “Neutrality! You're beginning to believe your own propaganda. What you want, Turban Orr, is power, the naked absolute power that comes with being a Malazan High Fist. You think this the first step to paving your road into the Empress's arms. At the jo,” city's expense, but you don't give a damn about that.”
Turban sneered up at Sinital. “Stay out of politics, woman. Darujhistan's fall to the Empire is inevitable. Better a peaceful occupation than a violent one.”
“Peaceful? Are you blind to what happened to Pale's nobility? Oh, the ravens feasted on delicate flesh for days. This Empire devours noble blood.”
“What happened at Pale isn't as simple as you make it,” Turban said. “There was a Moranth reckoning involved, a clause in the alliance writ. Such culling will not occur here-and what if it does? We could use it as far as I'm concerned.” His grin returned. “So much for your hear bleeding to the city's woes. All that interests you is you. Save the righteous citizen offal for your fawns, Sinital.” He adjusted his leggings. Sinital stepped to the bedpost, reaching down to touch the silve pommel of Orr's duelling sword. “You should kill him and be done with it,” she said.
“Back to him again?” The councilman laughed as he rose. “Your brain works with all the subtlety of a malicious child.” He collected his sword and strapped it on. “It's a wonder you wrested anything from that idiot husband of yours-you were so evenly matched in matters of cunning.”
“The easiest thing to break is a man's heart,” Sinital said, with a private smile. She lay down on the bed. Stretching her arms and arching he back, she said, “What about Moon's Spawn? It's still just hanging there.” Gazing down at her his eyes travelling along her body, the councilman replied distractedly, “We've yet to work out a way to get a message up there. We've set up a tent in its shadow and stationed representatives in it but that mysterious lord just ignores us.”