Part 10 (2/2)

'They left you tending a spyjack with no means to close it behind you?'

Ludunte nodded reluctantly.

Dri took a deep breath. 'Listen to me, sophister sophister. You will never again consent to watch a spyjack you cannot close - not if the ghost of Yalidryn the Founder himself should rise and demand it. Go to Night Village and fetch a crank. There is no shortage of them. Report what we have seen to Taliktrum, then come back and close the hole. Those are my express commands.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

Night Village was the mercy deck; the nearly lightless floor just above the hold, where the ixchel dwelt in a fortress of cargo-crates, ten yards from the bow.

'Report all that we have seen to Taliktrum,' Dri continued. 'It may be some time before I return.'

Ludunte looked at her fearfully. 'Where are you going, mistress?'

She hesitated, then smiled and laid a gentle hand on his arm. 'Where the clan must not follow,' she said.

She did not go directly where she had planned, however. There was one other matter to attend to first.

Hercol Stanapeth still slept in his valet's cabin on the berth deck. Diadrelu had no means to enter the stifling little chamber, but as she wriggled between the ceiling and the floor above she heard him move. A rustling in the darkness, then a slight sc.r.a.pe. A pale shaft of light sprang up through a crack she would never otherwise have seen. Hercol was lighting a candle. Dri crawled forward to the crack and looked down.

He was seated cross-legged on the floor, s.h.i.+rtless, back straight and eyes half-closed. A posture of meditation. His arms and chest were muscled like an ixchel's: no weak spots, no inch of flesh allowed to luxuriate in softness. His blackened sword lay before him like a talisman. This was good luck, Dri decided: it was hard to catch Hercol by himself.

He raised his hands in a seated stretch. How serene he was, how purposeful. She had come to tell him of the incubus - only the incubus, keep that clear only the incubus, keep that clear. But doubts a.s.sailed her as she watched his steady breathing. What would they say, her people, if they saw her now? There were scores of men in this compartment. The walls were thin, and the air was still and noiseless. It would be reckless to make contact here.

He twisted his upper body, and she saw the wolf-scar on his ribcage, glistening with sweat. She should have gone to the stateroom, she told herself, to the tarboys and Thasha. What need did she have to approach this man directly?

Dri felt her heart begin to hammer. She rehea.r.s.ed her words. I must talk with you, stand up, let me in. I will trust you with knowledge that could kill me. Not of the incubus, but of-- I must talk with you, stand up, let me in. I will trust you with knowledge that could kill me. Not of the incubus, but of-- She caught herself up short. Mother Sky, what was she thinking? To speak . . . of that that? Could she tell a human about that that, and still call herself a member of the clan? She closed her eyes and pressed a clenched fist against her mouth, as though it might speak without her consent. Impossible. Impossible. You are losing your mind.

One level below, in the gloom of the orlop deck, the s.h.a.ggat Ness, G.o.d-King of Gurishal and Fifth Monarch of the Mzithrin Pentarchy, stood with his stone ankles buried in straw. Dri studied him with equal parts fascination and disgust. His lifeless face wore a look of outrage, and the beginnings of fear. His left hand, held high but shrunken and withered, grasped the deadliest object on earth.

The Nilstone. It was small and round and pitch black. Too black Too black, like the body of the incubus: Dri's eyes seemed to stop working when she tried to focus on its surface.

The large compartment was known as the manger; it was a fodder room for the s.h.i.+p's cattle. Half the straw bales had been removed, the rest stacked against the aftermost wall to within a few feet of the ceiling. Atop these crouched Diadrelu, studying the men below.

Two of the group, dressed in yellow robes, were chained to the aft bulkhead. One sprawled on the floor, asleep; the other paced the length of his chains, scratching and arguing with himself. These were the s.h.a.ggat's sons. They looked to be in their twenties, but were in fact more than twice that age. On the prison isle of Licherog the men's chatter had so annoyed Arunis that he had cast sleeping-spells on them both. The spell had never quite worn off: to this day they were given to fits of narcolepsy.

They had aged more slowly in their sleep. But the long captivity, and perhaps the oddness of pa.s.sing so much of their lives unconscious, had eroded a good deal of their sanity.

The others were all Turach soldiers. Three guarded the room's single door (left open in the vain hope of a breeze), and three more stood in precise formation around the stone king. They were gigantic and terrible men: elite commandos, rated worthy to guard the Emperor himself. They drank fire storax at dawn to shock themselves awake, gulped pills made from the bones of Slevran panthers to increase their strength (though Dri had heard Bolutu begging them to give up the 'vicious habit'), plunged their fists into buckets of gravel and scarlet chilis to deaden them to pain.

But yesterday, facing Arunis and his corpse-warriors, some of the Turachs had hesitated, seemingly afraid, and in those few seconds lives had been lost. Punishment had come this morning. Sergeant Drellarek, their commander, had stood all those who had retreated in a line on the main deck. He then told his lieutenant to recite the seventh of the Ninety Rules of the Rinfaith.

'Rule Seven,' the young man had shouted. 'Fear rots the soul and gives back nothing, but wisdom can save me from all harm. I shall cast off the first for the second, and guard the sanct.i.ty of the mind.'

Then Drellarek had drawn his knife and slit the throat of every seventh man in the lineup. Those who escaped bound their comrades' bodies in sailcloth and twine. Monstrous Monstrous, thought Diadrelu. And very effective. From now on they'll fear nothing but him And very effective. From now on they'll fear nothing but him.

But was there nothing else to be afraid of? Yesterday they had all learned that to touch the Nilstone brought instant death to any with fear in their hearts. What about standing near it, though, for hours on end? The men looked well enough - just itchy and uncomfortable in the heat. For the moment that was all Dri needed to know. She did not think Arunis would soon come for the Nilstone or his king. By his own admission he was weak - and after Drellarek's measures, she had no doubt that these men and their eighty fellow Turachs would fight him to the death.

She tried again to see the Nilstone. How can it be there and How can it be there and not not there at the same time? What is that d.a.m.ned thing? there at the same time? What is that d.a.m.ned thing? Ramachni had said it was 'death given form', and had indeed come to Alifros from the world of the dead. He had also a.s.sured them it could never be destroyed. And yet she and her human comrades had sworn to get rid of it somehow, before Arunis found a way to use it against them all. Ramachni had said it was 'death given form', and had indeed come to Alifros from the world of the dead. He had also a.s.sured them it could never be destroyed. And yet she and her human comrades had sworn to get rid of it somehow, before Arunis found a way to use it against them all.

'I want wine!'

It was the s.h.a.ggat's son. He was glaring at his captors, stamping his feet.

'Is that a fact,' muttered a sleepy Turach.

'My father is a G.o.d! His hour is come! Surely you don't want to die?'

'He's not a G.o.d, you wretch. Why don't you blary sleep?'

Diadrelu crawled back from the edge of the straw bale. Nothing more to be learned here. With a sigh she decided to return to the ixchel compound. She did not relish the abuse and ridicule that would await her there. But she was hungry - and like any member of the clan she had communal duties to perform: cooking, maintenance, care of the sick and wounded. Taliktrum had let her know that he had taken a personal interest in her ch.o.r.es.

'Give that bottle here!' said the s.h.a.ggat's son.

'It ain't wine, it's water. And it's ours. You threw yours up in the hay like a naughty baby, didn't you?'

Dri smiled: the remains of a shattered bottle lay a few feet to her left.

The son was actually starting to cry. 'You despise me.'

'Now you're catchin' on.'

'Very soon you'll be sorry. When he is flesh again, and the Swarm explodes from the grey kingdom, you shall answer to my father. I will tell him and you will be crushed. You worms, you tiny insects, you - bullies.'

'What's this swarm swarm you're always on about?' you're always on about?'

But the s.h.a.ggat's son had lost the thread of his rant. 'Is it so much to ask, Warden? A good bottle and a bit of cheese? Even local cheese would do.'

Dri rose, stretched - and a flash of movement overhead sent her leaping, spinning, drawing her sword in midair, and the quickness of thirty years' training saved her life.

A hideous insect crouched before her. It was as large as Dri herself, double-winged like a dragonfly, with barbed limbs, green composite eyes and a long stinger like a wasp's curled under its body. That stinger had just stabbed the spot where Dri had lain a moment before.

She drew her knife as well. The creature made a sudden deep buzz, like a crosscut saw biting into a tree. It swivelled its black hairy head, fixed an eye on her, and launched itself into the air. Skies, it's fast Skies, it's fast. She couldn't see it: then it attacked again. This time she felt the brush of a leg. She struck, but her sword cut only air.

'Wine and cheese! Wine and cheese!'

'Shut up! Shut up!'

The thing was faster than Sniraga the cat. It dived a third time, vanished, dived again and missed her neck by a finger's width. Dri spun into battle dance, into the desperate pinwheeling that can hold off four humans at once. If I stop, I die. If I leap from the hay it will sting me before I land. If I stop, I die. If I leap from the hay it will sting me before I land.

The room was a blur. In ecstatic dance she moved backwards through the shards of gla.s.s. There was a higher bale there; she could back against it like a wall, burrow into it if need be. If I have time. How many are there? If I have time. How many are there? Then the insect was on her and the stinger pierced her cloak beside her ribs, and knowing she had won before she struck Dri snapped the stinger in two with a twist of her body and plunged her knife-hand to the wrist into the insect's eye. Then the insect was on her and the stinger pierced her cloak beside her ribs, and knowing she had won before she struck Dri snapped the stinger in two with a twist of her body and plunged her knife-hand to the wrist into the insect's eye.

It was minutes in dying. Its gore and spittle burned her, head to foot, and a barb on its leg pierced her thigh. But at last its convulsions ceased. She threw the carca.s.s down, bleeding, dumbfounded. What in the black Pits of woe had just attacked her?

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