Part 58 (2/2)

'Those baffles are rotted out,' said Fiffengurt from the back of the room. No one heeded him. Rose and the Turach wrenched and pried at the board. Over the slop of bilgewater, a sound of scurrying could indeed be heard from beneath it. Was that a voice, too? Pazel pulled himself up against a crate, listening. The board was starting to give way.

Steldak's voice rang out suddenly from beneath it. 'Not yet! Not yet! He isn't close enough!'

Neither Rose nor Haddismal showed the slightest reaction to the voice - of course not of course not, Pazel thought, he's using ixchel-speech. he's using ixchel-speech.

'Captain,' he rasped, his throat still terribly painful, 'you might want to stop that.'

Rose looked daggers at him, and gave a monstrous heave. The board lifted some ten inches, ancient nails popping from sea-rotted wood. Rose bent down to peer into the dark s.p.a.ce beneath.

'There you are!' he cried.

The board shattered. Something wet and furious struck Rose in the face. It was a huge white rat, twice the size of Felthrup, and its head was thrust into Rose's mouth. Human and rat fell backwards, the beast clawing, Rose flailing and bucking on the floor. At last he got a grip on the squirming animal and flung it away from him with all his might. The rat's head was a hideous, hairless k.n.o.b, scarlet with blood, and even before it struck the wall behind Druffle it had begun to talk.

'Glory!' it howled, from atop a crate some eight feet above the floor. 'Glory to the rats of Arqual! Glory to the Angel of Rin! Death comes to the false priest, the heretic captain who mocks the Ninety Rules and their Maker! Death to his G.o.dless crew, death to this temple defiled !'

'That's Mugstur !' gasped Pazel.

'Kill it!' screamed Rose, all but incoherent with blood.

Two Turachs sprang at the rat, but it squirmed away, shouting in ecstasy. 'Victory! Victory for Arqual where the Angel reigns! Victory to Magad, our Rin-given emperor! The hour is come! Rats of Chathrand Chathrand, come forth and fight!'

And the rats came. Out of the shattered floor, the frothing bilge, they leaped and squirmed, eight, twelve, twenty, more struggling behind. Like a welling stain, they spread in all directions, and with them spread a chaos beyond anyone's control. The Turachs stabbed and stomped, killing many, but the creatures were entering the vault faster than they died, and the floorboard was in too many pieces to replace. The Turach with the lamp whirled, slamming it into Big Skip's chest and cracking the gla.s.s. The lamp sputtered, darkening.

Rose was choking, with a sound like a slaughtered bull, even as rats climbed his limbs and boiled across his back. Master Mugstur had bitten off part of his tongue, and Rose had inhaled enough of his own blood to drown a smaller man. The four bound men were screaming for their hands to be freed. Sandor Ott gazed at the bald-headed, gore-stained rat who shrieked the praises of his emperor, and for one instant appeared to forget where he was.

That instant was all Thasha needed. With a blow fuelled by rage, she drove her fist down against his knife hand, and at the same time slammed her head back against his face with all her might. Both blows connected; the knife flew from Ott's grasp, and Ott himself staggered backwards into the open doorway.

Thasha knew her only chance was to press the attack, and she did. Whirling straight into a third blow, she struck at Ott's sword-arm just as he started to draw the weapon out. It was a point-blank strike to the forearm: the spymaster snarled with pain. And then he took her. Ott's right hand, the one that had held the knife, was not too wounded to strike her bare-fisted. He smashed her chin with an upper cut. She struck back, lightning-fast but weak; she was stunned. He brought his hand slicing down against her neck. Thasha's knees buckled, and as she fell her head struck the edge of a crate. Eyes locked on her, Ott flung a fist sideways at Neeps (who was lunging in desperation) and knocked him flat on the deck. Then he drew his sword.

Pazel cried out and heaved to his feet. To his amazement, Rose also lurched at the spy. But they were both a step too far away, and too late. Thasha looked up, bloodied, disoriented. Ott grimaced and swung.

The blow was meant to kill, and would have, but for the violent collision of a body with the spymaster's own. Hercol had driven like a cannonball through the last Turachs in the pa.s.sage, and the force of his leap at Ott knocked over half the men still standing in the liquor vault. Pazel was crushed once more beneath Rose, but over the captain's shoulder he saw Hercol fighting like a man possessed, his face contorted with an emotion more acute than hate. Agony Agony, thought Pazel. Agony he doesn't mean to get over Agony he doesn't mean to get over. Hercol's momentum never seemed to break, only turn into spiral energy as he rolled and whirled Ott through the room, smas.h.i.+ng, bludgeoning him against crate and floor and soldiers and carca.s.ses of rats. Ott's sword was gone, his blows Hercol did not seem to feel. When at last he managed a damaging blow to Hercol's jaw the Tholja.s.san rose with a cry and hurled him the length of the room.

Ott struck the back wall and fell senseless upon a carpet of squirming rats. When Pazel's eyes caught up with Hercol the man was pouncing, Ott's own knife in his hand, drawn back over his shoulder with the point aimed downwards at his old master's throat.

'Kill!'

Hercol froze. The voice came from just above him. It was Mugstur, perhaps the only conscious creature in the room less rational at that instant that Hercol himself. Mugstur's mad, bulging eyes glared down at him, urging him on.

'Kill, kill! It is the promised end! The Angel comes! Arqual shall be purified through blood!'

'Diadrelu,' said Hercol, and he was suddenly, obviously, a man broken by grief. He stabbed not downwards but upwards, driving the knife into the white rat's side.

Master Mugstur did not seem surprised by what had happened to him. 'The Angel comes!' he cried, gurgling. 'The Tree bleeds, the Nilstone wakes, and a thousand eyes are opening! Glory! Glory! War !' and a thousand eyes are opening! Glory! Glory! War !'

Mugstur gave a last twitch and fell limp. Hercol lifted the creature on Ott's knife, then lowered the blade and let the rat slide onto the motionless spymaster. 'No more dreams of glory,' he said. 'They are finished, for all of us.'

But it was not finished. Ott stirred, moaning, and as he did so the white rat twitched again. The next moment it was on its feet, bleeding but very much alive. And at the same moment all the surviving rats grew still, and raised their narrow faces to look at the men. They were knowing looks, looks of conscious intelligence.

'War,' said Mugstur, and the rats began to grow.

38.

Holy War

9 Umbrin 941

The humans rushed bleeding from the Abandoned House. Rose was the last one out of the liquor vault, and he personally cut the bonds on the four prisoners, screaming orders at them as he did so. Haddismal carried the half-conscious spymaster, Neeps supported Pazel, and Thasha tried her best to drag Hercol into the pa.s.sage, as he swung and stabbed and bludgeoned and hacked, and a mound of twitching fur rose about him.

The rats of Chathrand Chathrand were awake, and mad. They had swollen to the size of hunting dogs, and their voices - mewling, screeching, speaking - were so loud and hideous that the men fell back as much from the force of them as from the creature's tearing nails and bolt-cutter jaws. When Rose at last heaved himself up onto the mercy deck, he found Fiffengurt and twelve men ready to skid a carriage-sized packet of sparwood over the hatch. The captain rolled aside, shouting, 'Do it!' No sooner were the tons of wood in place than they heard the first rats slamming their thick bodies against the door. were awake, and mad. They had swollen to the size of hunting dogs, and their voices - mewling, screeching, speaking - were so loud and hideous that the men fell back as much from the force of them as from the creature's tearing nails and bolt-cutter jaws. When Rose at last heaved himself up onto the mercy deck, he found Fiffengurt and twelve men ready to skid a carriage-sized packet of sparwood over the hatch. The captain rolled aside, shouting, 'Do it!' No sooner were the tons of wood in place than they heard the first rats slamming their thick bodies against the door.

'Angel!'

'Kill them!'

'Arqual, Arqual, just and true!'

'Pray before eating! Pray!'

Rose spat a great mouthful of blood. He did not even glance at the wounds on his legs. Seizing Bolutu by the elbow and Neeps by the scruff of the neck, he dragged them at a near run towards the mainmast, as a throng of near-hysterical sailors billowed around him, howling death and disaster. Pazel, Thasha and Hercol had no choice but to follow him.

'Report!' he thundered. 'Who's the deck officer? Bindhammer !'

'Sir, they've gone and turned themselves into Pit-vomited fiends!' cried Bindhammer, waving his short, burly arms.

'I noticed that! d.a.m.n it, man, how many rats are we talking about?'

The answer, when accounts were tallied, appeared to be all of them all of them. Not a single normal rat had been spotted; the mutants were bursting from deep recesses in the hold like bees from a broken hive. Two men had perished already. The entire hold had been abandoned.

'What did you drag Neeps and Bolutu here for?' shouted Pazel, when he could get a word in edgewise.

Rose released them both with a flinging motion. 'Because I wanted to be blary sure the rest of you followed me! Shut up! Not a word! Just tell me, true and fast: do you know what's happening?'

The sailors looked at them with fear-maddened eyes. 'There are just two things it could be,' said Thasha. 'Some trick of Arunis', though why he'd turn rats into monsters I can't imagine. Or the Nilstone, working all by itself. I'd bet on the latter.'

'So would I,' said Bolutu. 'Captain Rose, since early summer I have tried to draw your attention to the Chathrand Chathrand 's fleas. They were always large and bloodthirsty. After you brought the Nilstone aboard, however, they became positively unnatural. And there have been other deformed and aggressive pests. Wasps, moths, flies, beetles. Anything, that is, that might have touched the Nilstone. Their numbers have been greatest at the stern of the orlop, where the s.h.a.ggat stands holding his prize.' 's fleas. They were always large and bloodthirsty. After you brought the Nilstone aboard, however, they became positively unnatural. And there have been other deformed and aggressive pests. Wasps, moths, flies, beetles. Anything, that is, that might have touched the Nilstone. Their numbers have been greatest at the stern of the orlop, where the s.h.a.ggat stands holding his prize.'

'The Stone?' cried Rose. 'I thought the d.a.m.ned thing killed whoever touched it!'

'Whoever touches it with fear in their hearts, fear in their hearts,' said Hercol. 'Perhaps insects have no fear, at least not as we understand it.'

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