Part 19 (1/2)

The Fountain of the Vale.

The moon rose, illuminating their pa.s.sage. Avoiding the fis.h.i.+ng smacks anch.o.r.ed and moored in the shallows had been difficult, but now they were in open water, Robal panting as he stroked the boat out into the middle of the vast Dhau Ria, the sea that had flooded Dona Mihst at the Most High's command.

'Here we are,' he said eventually, at the same time as Kannwar cried 'Halt!' and Robal began to back with his oars. The smell was at its strongest here, and the sea bubbled beneath them.

'There is a deep chasm below us,' Phemanderac explained. 'It was formed by the wrath of the Most High, and divided Dona Mihst between rebels and loyalists. From it liquid fire emerged, and it was quenched only by the onrus.h.i.+ng sea.'

'We know the story,' said the man behind him.

'The chasm still emits vapours and occasional bursts of fire,' the scholar continued stubbornly. 'The Fountain is a little way beyond, and is on the highest point of old Dona Mihst. Some say it is occasionally exposed at the lowest of neap tides.'

'It does not need to be exposed for our purposes,' Kannwar said. 'Do you have the cloths?'

'Aye,' said the guard.

'Place them over our mouths as soon as we have partaken,' Kannwar commanded. 'The reason will be evident.'

The brute took Stella's hand. 'Be brave,' he said to her.

'Why has no one else done this and gained immortality?' Robal asked.

'Because the Fountain is diluted by the water in which it plays,' Stella said. 'It won't affect a normal person enough to make a difference, but Kannwar believes it will help us. You will need to row us back, dear,' she added, touching Robal on the sleeve of his tunic. 'We may appear dead; we may even die. Neither of us can guess the effect. But if we are to be of any use in the next few months, we must try it.'

Robal rowed on, until he was signalled to stop. 'Here,' Phemanderac said.

The scholar could feel a faint vibration against the hull of the dinghy, no doubt the pressure of the water welling up from the Fountain below. In the stern Stella and the-Kannwar dipped their hands into the sea and withdrew them. Raised them to their lips. Drank.

Their screams were piteous. Horrifying. A ba.s.s roar intertwining with a high-pitched shriek, echoing around the valley.

'For the sake of the Most High, Robal, apply the cloths! Gag them!'

The guard would not be rushed. He laid the oars carefully inside the boat, then took a cloth and bound it around Stella's juddering head, across her mouth, stopping her screams. He did the same to Kannwar.

'We could tip him over the side,' Robal said into the silence. 'Perhaps he might be swallowed by a leviathan. Let him be immortal in a sea beast's belly.'

'And what would you say to our lady?'

'There is that,' the guard admitted. 'This is beyond me, scholar. I have no way of judging whether anything I do is right or wrong.'

'Then hold on to what you know to be right, and do as she asks.'

They waited under the starry sky until the two figures stopped shaking.

'Time to return,' Phemanderac said, 'and thence to judge the effectiveness of our cure.' He grimaced. 'Never in my worst nightmares did I see myself aiding someone to break the prohibition of the Most High.'

'It was for a good reason,' said the guard.

'Yes, it was. And that is exactly what Kannwar said when he broke it for the first time, if his scroll is to be believed. I am frightened, friend Robal. Frightened that I have done something that might have cursed not just my best friend, but the entire world.'

'That's what I've been worried about too. Do you think we should write our own scroll of apology?'

'Uh,' said Kannwar, struggling to sit up. He waved a barely controlled arm in the direction of his gag. Robal looked at Phemanderac enquiringly.

'We must,' he said to the guard. 'I'll do it, while you start rowing.'

The cloth came off easily and, for a wonder, the man thanked him. 'Is Stella all right?' he asked in a shaken voice.

'I don't know,' Phemanderac said.

'She's cold, and so am I,' the man said. 'Would it be possible to divert to the nearest land? I could start a fire, and we could warm ourselves before returning to Dhauria.'

'We need to get back to the city,' Robal growled.

'It would give Stella time to recover. And if we judged it necessary to return to the Fountain, we would be close by.'

Persuasive words, Phemanderac knew, but that didn't mean the man was telling the truth.

Stella's deathly cold face decided him.

They had to lift her from the boat, as she remained unconscious. It took a while for Robal to a.s.semble enough driftwood for a fire, but no time at all for Kannwar to bring forth a flame.

Phemanderac and Robal took turns rubbing Stella's icy hands. She was alive, of that he was as certain as anyone could be when dealing with immortals. She breathed, at least, albeit raggedly. The Water of Life was at work in her, strengthening-or poisoning-and healing. Already the bruises were fading, and the more seriously damaged internal organs were no doubt being restored as they waited.

The faint sound of splas.h.i.+ng came to them across the water. 'Ho, the sh.o.r.e!' someone called.

'Who is that?' Robal hissed. 'Dominie, we should put out the fire and hide. Explaining ourselves will be awkward at best.'

Phemanderac was deathly tired and did not react as quickly as he might. 'A boat?' he said, stupidly.

'Yes, and it draws closer.'

Kannwar drew a pouch from under his tunic, not caring to hide his actions. Phemanderac saw him moving but thought little of it, preoccupied with the oncoming craft. The man sprinkled a small amount of powder on the fire and muttered a few words under his breath.

The world around them exploded in a flash of blue. There were cries of fear and pain everywhere, one of which came from Phemanderac's own mouth. They were all drawn inside the flames, consumed by them, suffering horrible agonies. Betrayed by the Destroyer! Phemanderac begged the fire to slay him swiftly. It took a long time, but eventually the sound and pain faded away, away, away to nothing.

INTERLUDE.

Husk has imperilled his own plans. He knows himself for a fool. If the future goes against him, his precipitous action may cost him his life. Such as it is.

But what else could he have done?

If his story is ever written, if he is ever revealed as the one who vanquished the Undying Man, he hopes his biographer makes mention of the many mitigating circ.u.mstances surrounding the rash decision he has made today. He will make sure they are noted. Chief of these, of course, is the sheer agony of seventy years of struggle. Day after day he has endured pain and suffering beyond anything he ever inflicted on others, and yet over the years he has returned from the house of death to a place of strength. He has achieved this by suppressing rigorously every emotion and exercising an inhuman, costly patience.

But patience has failed him today.

He stretches his vestigial forelimbs forward a finger-width, takes a grip on the next stair, and begins to haul himself upwards. Patience. He moves literally an inch at a time; he remembers using the phrase 'inching' once in his former life to describe slow political progress, but had never imagined what the word might literally mean.