Part 3 (1/2)

*An artificial creature designed to house a disembodied mind, like a ghost or a golem.'

A chill went down Sal's spine. *Does Atilde think he succeeded in giving it a mind?'

*Yes. But what it was physically, she doesn't know. It's obviously something, something that walks.'

*This doesn't make any sense,' said s.h.i.+lly, frowning deeply. *Highson knows how dangerous ghosts and golems can be. Why would he want to make a home for one?'

*Did anyone notice anything about him before all this happened?' asked Sal. *Was he acting strangely? Was he still himself?'

Tom knew what question he was really asking. If a Change-worker strained too hard, their minds could be pushed out of their body and stuck in the Void Beneath - the empty non-s.p.a.ce underpinning the real world. The vacant body left behind could then be inhabited by a golem. The three of them sitting in Lodo's old workshop knew from grim experience what horrors such a being could unleash.

*He was still Highson,' said Tom, with quiet surety. *No one doubts that for a moment. He wasn't something other than himself.'

Sal believed him. Golems weren't known for their subtlety.

*So where does everything stand now?' he asked. *This all happened a week ago. Has anyone heard from Highson since? What happened to the search party? When did you leave?'

Tom blinked under the barrage of questions. *The search party hasn't returned. The last I was told, they were still following the trail. No one's heard from Highson or been able to find him through the Change. I've looked too, but he's either hiding or being hidden by something.'

*Or he's dead,' put in s.h.i.+lly.

*I don't think so. I left two days ago. My dreams have been unsettled since Highson disappeared. It's hard to tell what's real and what isn't. There's only one thing I'm sure of: you two are involved. Your faces keep coming up, over and over. There's only one way you could be involved, and that's if someone came and got you. So I did. I requisitioned a buggy and set off. I stopped to refuel and rest in Samimi, but apart from that I drove straight through.'

That explained his haggard appearance, and reinforced something that had unnerved Sal ever since Tom's unexpected appearance. Tom wasn't interested in being a hero or standing in the spotlight; he was normally content to watch from the shadows as people played out their roles. He only acted when he felt he had to - when his dreams told him that something was important.

This obviously was.

*How did you know where we were?'

*Where else would you be?' Tom reacted as though Sal had asked why the day had begun that morning. *When you escaped from the Haunted City, you went through a Way to the workshop.'

*But you weren't there,' s.h.i.+lly said. *No one was supposed to talk about it.'

*They didn't need to. It was perfectly obvious what had happened.'

*To you, perhaps,' said Sal. *You're the first visitor we've had in five years.'

*And a very welcome one, too,' s.h.i.+lly added, *although the news you've brought is less than cheerful.'

*Did you tell anyone where you were going?' asked Sal, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

*No. I - uh.' An alarmed look crossed Tom's face. He stood up suddenly, knocking over the empty bottle of water.

*I'm sorry,' he said, performing an awkward hop on one foot and turning pink. *I need - uh.'

*Through there.' s.h.i.+lly realised before Sal did what Tom required and pointed to a curtained alcove. *I was wondering how much you could drink before you started to overflow.'

Tom vanished behind the curtain. Sal grinned at the sustained splash and sigh of relief that followed, but his mind was too full of images old and new, of golems and midnight detonations, of Highson Sparre and dead Larson Maiz, of hiding places and family ties, to be distracted for long.

s.h.i.+lly caught his eye and held it. Her expression was very serious. He could tell that she had already decided what she wanted to do.

*What do you think?' she asked.

*I'm trying not to.'

*He's your father.' Her voice held a hint of reproach.

*My father died in Fundelry before I ever met this man.'

*Highson married your mother; he sired you. And he helped us escape from the Syndic.'

Sal nodded. All true and relevant, especially the latter. Highson Sparre's aunt, the most powerful woman in the Strand, had locked horns with Sal on more than one occasion. If she had had her way, he would still be studying in the Haunted City, fuelling her plans for advancement.

*You know it's the right thing to do.' Her hand found his. *And besides, Tom dreamed we were involved. There's nothing we can do about it now.'

*If he'd left us alone, perhaps we wouldn't be.' He heard the petulance in his tone and hated it. The truth was that he didn't feel ready to leave Fundelry, the fis.h.i.+ng village he had lived in for five years after a life of constant travel. Part of him wondered if he would ever be ready to leave. Fundelry was safe: the dangers were known and familiar. He had no control over the outside world and the threats it contained; out there, he might have no control over himself, either.

Only twice had he let his wild talent consume him. The eruption of rage he had set free had almost killed a man. Then, later, he had killed an ice-creature deep in the bowels of the Haunted City. Even though that had been in defence of s.h.i.+lly, the potential for violence contained within him frightened him even more than the first time. His wild talent was like a large animal blundering about in a city; by its very nature, it was dangerous.

But that wasn't the fault of its nature. It was just out of place. In the right place, it wouldn't be a problem. Sal simply hadn't found out where that was yet.

In Fundelry, with s.h.i.+lly, he had learned to balance the wild talent and bend it to his will, but it was a truce he feared could be easily broken.

*All right,' he said. *We have to help. But I don't like it. What's Highson doing mucking around with a Homunculus in the middle of the night? What's he brought into the world? What are we getting ourselves caught up in now?'

She didn't say anything, just leaned her head into his shoulder. He put an arm around her and held her, tasting an uncertainty he had thought long swallowed.

A bell rang at lunchtime, apparently of its own accord. There were twelve strung in an elaborate mobile from the ceiling's highest point. Each had a unique pitch and timbre, and each had an identical twin to which it was subtly linked. When one rang, no matter how far away, so would the twin.

*That's Thess,' said Sal, looking up from the chart he and Tom were studying. *Do you want me to go?'

s.h.i.+lly shook her head. She had been laying out their clothes and other possessions in preparation for packing, finding herself amazed by how little they actually owned. Discounting the workshop and everything Lodo had left them, plus the occasional trinket the townsfolk insisted they take, they had only a few personal effects to call their belongings. Part of her found it sad that they could have left so small a mark on their world that no one would notice its absence.

*I've got it,' she said, grateful for the opportunity to think about something else. Rummaging in a closet, she wrapped up two small vials in a leather bag and tied her hair in a short pigtail. She picked up her favourite walking stick, one which Sal had carved with simple but potent charms for strength and endurance out of a piece of near perfectly-straight driftwood. The charms sparkled with the Change irrespective of how the light caught them. *I'll be home soon.'

Outside, the sun had begun its lazy drift across the westward quarter of the sky, and she walked with it at her back. Tom had moved the buggy into the dunes, where it would be less conspicuous, and she gave it a wide berth, even though she had no reason to be afraid of it. Buggies were rare in Fundelry; few travellers used them, and the town's mechanic spent most of his time repairing fis.h.i.+ng boat engines and water pumps. This one was an efficient Sky Warden machine, made of black metal and brooding like a disgruntled spider on wheels. Big enough to hold four, it seemed to glower at her as she pa.s.sed.

*Be patient,' she told it. *You'll be on the road again soon enough.'

Then she was hurrying through the dunes to the rendezvous point, a dry creek bed halfway between the workshop and Fundelry. She went into town only when she absolutely had to, and made sure Sal charmed her appearance thoroughly before she did. Her and Sal's friends knew how to find them, but no one else did. Or so she had preferred to think.

Long-limbed Thess and her young son sat under the shade of a spreading eucalyptus, playing a game involving Thess's hair and the boy's small fingers. The sound of Gil's laughter brought a smile to s.h.i.+lly's face. Gil's father had drowned in a fis.h.i.+ng accident the year before. The five-year-old had been uncommunicative since.

*I hope you haven't been waiting long.' s.h.i.+lly kissed Thess's cheek and sat next to them, stretching her bad leg out before her. Gil looked up at her, wide-eyed, then s.h.i.+ed away. They were as dark-skinned as herself and Tom; on the Strand, Sal's light skin was the exception. *It's been a complicated morning.'

Thess beamed. *We've had fun. Haven't we, Gil?'