Part 21 (2/2)

*The tower, perhaps.'

*That would make sense, I guess. It's the only recognisable landmark.'

*Does that make a difference?'

Skender shrugged. *Beats me. The study of Change-sinks is a forgotten art, even by me.'

Sal didn't ask further questions. He was more interested in whether his father had woken and given an account of his reasons for summoning the Homunculus. He almost stopped and turned back, feeling a sudden and very strong concern for s.h.i.+lly.

He wanted to talk to her, to let her know he was all right.

One glance back at the Divide, which was filling with darkness as dusk's shadow swept across it, put paid to that idea. There was no going back, not through nightfall and man'kin and whatever else might be out there. He had to keep moving forward.

The last rays of sunlight rushed over the Aad, casting the tower in a blaze of golden fire. Sal stared at it, hypnotised by the strange beauty of the moment. The dead city surrounded them, its air filled with dust and decay. No animals disturbed the stillness; no plants invaded the tumbled masonry. He could have been standing at the end of history, surveying all that remained of humanity's works.

The thought was maudlin. Much of the world already looked like this. Wardens and Mages alike built homes among the ruins, constantly reminded that theirs was an echo of a bygone age, one that had been capable of works unequalled since. What had happened to those lost builders was for the most part unknown. The Cataclysm had wiped them out and left the Change in their wake. Their world was difficult to imagine.

The last light of sunset abandoned the ruins and continued its march up the side of the Divide. The city plunged into gloom.

*What do we do now?' whispered Skender. *It's going to be pitch black before long.'

*We should have brought some matches and a candle.'

*And food.'

*Let's not be greedy,' he said, refusing to regret their impulsiveness. He took in their surroundings while a dusky light lingered. *We should find somewhere to take shelter.' His body ached; the thought of rest was overpowering. *Maybe we can explore when our eyes have adjusted.'

They hurried through the ruined city. Most of the buildings had fallen in completely or were teetering on the verge of doing so. Their best hope lay south and uphill, at the furthest point from the Divide, where the ground beneath the Aad angled up to vertical. Gradually, the remaining walls became higher, their interiors less wasted. Finally, they managed to find a low building with all four walls standing and a relatively intact ceiling. There was no way of telling what it had once been, since no shapes of furniture or tools seemed evident. It had no doubt been stripped of anything useful long ago. Sal paced out the full extent of the small s.p.a.ce and declared that it would do.

*Do you want to wait here while I look around?'

The darkness was absolute. Sal could barely make out Skender's silhouette against the open doorway.

The suggestion was irresistible. *Maybe just for a little bit,' Sal said, sinking down into a corner next to where they had placed the wing. His feet and head throbbed; his throat was utterly parched. *You'll let me know if you find anything, won't you?'

*Of course. This place is far too creepy for heroics.'

Sal smiled and closed his eyes.

*Don't go anywhere until I get back.'

Skender waited for an answer, but none came. Sal's breathing became slower and more regular. He was already asleep.

*Right,' Skender said to himself. *No point in sticking around, then.'

Leaving the bottle of water by his friend's side, he steeled himself to explore the eerie and potentially Homunculus-infested Ruin. Outside, he took a moment to note every detail of the location of their hiding place; good as his memory was, he knew it would be difficult finding his way back in the dark. The cliff obscured a fair proportion of the night sky, including the moon. It was hard to see even the ground beneath his feet.

He set out slowly and cautiously, picking his way through the rubble with exaggerated care. It wouldn't do to trip and twist his ankle. He had no clear destination in mind, and gravitated to the central watchtower by default. As the largest extant structure, it was the obvious place for someone to hide, although being the obvious place rendered it the least likely to contain anything hidden. Still, Skender reasoned, he had to start somewhere. Who knew what he would stumble over along the way?

It seemed to take him forever to navigate the cramped, littered streets, even though they gradually became less buckled. The buildings around him stood taller and firmer. He tried to keep the sound of his footfalls to a minimum, but they echoed back at him with crystalline, startling clarity. He froze at the slightest noise, listening for footsteps other than his own. All he heard was the pounding of his heart and the faint whispering of wind across jagged stone.

As the tower grew taller over him, he imagined dark faces staring at him from its round windows, and the ghosts of the Haunted City came, unwelcome, to his mind. Those bodiless spirits were confined forever to their ancient towers, able to escape only with the a.s.sistance of people on the outside - people like s.h.i.+lly, and Sal's mother, who invariably paid a terrible price for their effort.

He shuddered, remembering the Homunculus at its most horrific, its four arms extended to attack Marmion and its face a writhing ma.s.s of eyes, mouths and noses. The image had been easy to keep at bay during daylight hours, but the darkness encouraged it. Every time he turned, he expected to see that hideous visage about to leap on him.

A disease; bad luck; inhabited by creatures of the Divide...

Finally he stood at the base of the tower. Ten storeys high and broad enough to park several buggies, it seemed much larger than the natural cliff behind it. A single rectangular entranceway, twice his height and width, gaped open to the night air. If there had ever been doors, they were long gone. Skender tracked delicate carvings along the lintel - vines, perhaps, or snakes - but couldn't see well enough to make them out.

He still possessed a very faint sense of the Change. The heart of the sink couldn't be the tower, for otherwise no potential would remain at all. With a feeling of invading a tomb, he walked nervously into the shadow of the tower's interior and looked around.

No lights burned within, and it took his eyes a long time to adjust. There was no sign of occupation by human or animal or anything else. A rotting spiral staircase led up to the next floor and down to a bas.e.m.e.nt. Skender was unwilling to explore in either direction, for the moment. There were other places to look before he would be forced to such extremes of courage. There could be anything in the depths beneath the tower - a mausoleum, perhaps, lined with bodies he couldn't see, only touch - and the upper floors could be structurally unsound.

He ventured as far as he dared into the suffocating blackness, then hurried out into the cool night air and took several deep breaths.

From far across the black gulf of the Divide, the navigation light at the top of Observation Tower winked at him over Laure's protective Wall. The previous night, when he had soared over the city lights for the first time, seemed weeks ago. He longed to be in his bed in the hostel with the sheet over his head. His belly ached for a decent meal.

Stone clicked against stone in the darkness, away to his right. He held his breath and retreated into the doorway. It could have been perfectly innocent, but he intended to take no chances. The night was thickening around him. Anything could be stirring.

He saw nothing and the sound wasn't repeated. But his stomach rumbled again, drawing his attention to the fact that the night smelled different. The faintest hint of smoke tainted the crisp night air.

Where there was smoke, Skender told himself, there had to be something to burn. And he had seen barely a stick in his exploration of the Divide. Whatever was burning must have been brought into the Aad, and the thing that had brought it was probably nearby.

He followed his nose away from the tower. The source of the smell proved difficult to trace. Sometimes he felt he was getting closer only to lose the smell entirely down a side street. Other times, when it faded almost to vanis.h.i.+ng and he was on the point of giving up, it came heavily on the breeze from another alley or archway.

His nose led him to the western edge of the city, on the far side from where he and Sal had arrived. The smell was definitely stronger, although its source remained hidden. It wasn't wood smoke, he thought, or tobacco; coal, perhaps, or another solid fuel. His gut tied itself in knots at a faint tang of frying that joined with the smoke in the air. Meat and toast! If the growling of his stomach didn't alert every Homunculus and man'kin for a dozen kilometres, he would be amazed.

Then, distantly, came the sound of voices. He slowed to a creeping pace as he approached the ruins of a building jutting from the base of the cliff. The door and windows were open to the night air, so he could tell that no one was inside, but his nose and ears insisted that both the fire and people lay within. Barely daring to breathe, he inched through the main door and tiptoed along the entranceway. Debris crunched under his feet, and he shushed it nervously. The voices grew louder as he explored deeper into the house where it bit into the cliff face. There, next to a room that must once have been a kitchen but was now stale and empty, he found an enormous ballroom. Or so it seemed to him, with little more than a glimmer of starlight and faint echoes to measure its extent by. Parts of the ceiling had fallen in; rubble lay everywhere. In the shadows on the far wall, he made out four wide fireplaces, each as large as his bedroom in the Keep.

Three of them had collapsed. The fourth was the source of the smoke. The fire wasn't, however, burning on the cold grate. Both the voices and the smoke were coming from above him. Skender stood in the fireplace and looked up. Far over his head, the chimney kinked suddenly to the left. Yellow light flickered.

The lyrics to a bawdy song about a tavern girl called One-Legged Meg echoed incongruously down the chimney. The singer didn't sound like the Homunculus. Faint jeers accompanied the tune. Someone barked a command and the song ceased mid-chorus.

There were people in the Aad. Skender knew he should go back to Sal, but one last thing held him back. At the top, opposite the hole through which the light issued, he made out a hook similar to the one at the top of the cliff. That explained how people came and went through the fireplace - but, once again, any attempt by him to go up there was stymied. If he and Sal could find or make a rope of some kind, he thought, they might be able to throw a loop over the hook and haul themselves up.

He turned to go, and heard a noise echo through the empty ballroom. It sounded like a footstep.

Time to get out of here, he told himself, creeping from the fireplace with steps so soft he felt he was floating on air.

*You make noise enough to s.h.i.+ft the bones of the dead!' boomed a voice out of the darkness.

His fright was so great he actually squeaked.

The voice laughed. *That's it, my lad. Hold perfectly still. You've seen enough of the city for one night, I think.'

<script>