Emerging onto the main level, Mappo and Fiddler were accosted with the harsh echo of a shouting voice, bouncing down the hallway from the altar chamber. The sapper grimaced. 'That would be Crokus.'
'Not in prayer, I take it.'
They found the young Daru thief at the extreme edge of his patience. He held Iskaral Pust by the front of his robe, pushed up against the wall behind the dusty altarstone. Pust's feet dangled ten inches above the flagstones, kicking feebly. Off to one side stood Apsalar, arms crossed, watching the scene without expression.
Fiddler stepped forward and laid a hand on the lad's shoulder. 'You're choking the life out of him, Crokus-'
'Precisely what he deserves, Fiddler!'
'I won't argue that, but in case you haven't noticed, there's shadows gathering.'
'He's right,' Apsalar said. 'Like I said before, Crokus. You're moments from Hood's Gates yourself.'
The Daru hesitated; then, with a snarl, he flung Pust away. The High Priest skidded along the wall, gasping, then straightened and began adjusting his robe. He spoke in a rasp. 'Precipitous youth! I am reminded of my own melodramatic gestures when I but toddled about in Aunt Tulla's yard. Bullying the chickens when they objected to the straw hats I had spent hours weaving. Incapable of appreciating the intricate plaits I devised. I was deeply offended.' He cocked his head, grinned up at Crokus. 'She'll look good in my new and improved straw hat-'
Fiddler intercepted Crokus's lunge and grappled with the lad. With Mappo's help he pulled him back as the High Priest scampered away, giggling.
The giggle broke into a fit of coughing that had Pust staggering about as if suddenly blinded. One groping hand found a wall, which he sagged against like a drunkard. The cough ended with a last hack, then he wiped his eyes and looked up.
Crokus growled, 'He wants Apsalar to-'
'We know,' Fiddler said. 'We worked that much out, lad. The point is, it's up to her, isn't it?'
Mappo glanced at him in surprise. The sapper shrugged.
'I have been used by an Ascendant once,' Apsalar said. 'I'll not willingly be used again.'
'You are not to be used,' Iskaral Pust hissed, beginning a strange dance, 'you lead! You command! You impose your will! Dictate terms! Free to express every tantrum, enforce every whim, act like a spoiled child and be worshipped for it!' He ducked down suddenly, paused, then said in a whisper, 'Such lures as to entice! Self-examination is dispensed with at the beck and at the call of privileges unfettered! She wavers, she leans — see it in her eyes!'
'I do not,' Apsalar said coolly.
'She does! Such percipience in the lass as to sense my every thought — as if she could hear them aloud! The Rope's shadow remains within her, a linkage not to be denied! Gods, I am brilliant!'
With a disgusted snort Apsalar strode from the chamber.
Iskaral Pust scurried after her.
Fiddler held back the Daru's attempt to pursue. 'She can handle him, Crokus,' the sapper said. 'That should be plain — even to you.'
'There are more mysteries here than you imagine,' Mappo said, frowning after the High Priest.
They heard voices in the hall, then Icarium appeared at the entrance, wearing his deer-hide cloak with the dust of the desert on his dusky green skin. He saw the question in Mappo's eyes and shrugged. 'He's left the temple — I trailed him as far as the storm's edge.'
Fiddler asked, 'Who are you talking about?'
'Servant,' Mappo answered, his frown deepening. He glanced at Crokus. 'We think he's Apsalar's father.'
The lad's eyes widened. 'Is he one-armed?'
'No,' Icarium replied. 'Iskaral Pust's servant is a fisherman, however. Indeed, his barque can be found in a lower chamber of this temple. He speaks Malazan-'
'Her father lost an arm at the siege of Li Heng,' Crokus said, shaking his head. 'He was among the rebels who held the walls, and had his arm burned off when the Imperial Army retook the city.'
'When a god intervenes…' Mappo said, then shrugged. 'One of his arms looks … young … younger than the other, Crokus. Servant was sent into hiding when we brought you back here. Pust was hiding him from you. Why?'
Icarium spoke. 'Was it not Shadowthrone who arranged the possession? When Cotillion took her, Shadowthrone may well have taken
Crokus had gone pale. His gaze snapped to the vacant entranceway. 'Leverage,' he whispered.
Fiddler instantly grasped the Daru's meaning. He turned to Icarium. 'You said Servant's trail led into the Whirlwind storm. Is there a particular place where Sha'ik is expected to be reborn?'
'The High Priest says her body has not been moved from where it fell at the hands of the Red Blades.'
'Within the storm?'
The Jhag nodded.
