Part 62 (1/2)

He s.n.a.t.c.hed a leather pouch from the floor, ripped at the drawstring, and took a large pinch of gravel-like salt. Without preamble he gulped it, crunched it audibly in his teeth, and grabbed the bottle from Fulbreech. He favoured the grebel with a look of loathing and respect. Then he tilted the bottle and drank.

'Glah! Horrid! Quick!'

He gestured at the little box. Pazel unscrewed the lid, breaking the seal. Inside was a teaspoon's worth of fine red dust. The doctor bent until his nose was directly over the box. He covered one nostril and sniffed. Then he began to scream.

'OH DEVILS! OH G.o.dS OF FLAMING DEATH!'.

He straightened, spasmodically, as Pazel had seen men do when stunned by a Flikkerman. He gave an incoherent roar.

'It's working!' said Fulbreech.

Looks of terror and wild mirth chased themselves across the doctor's face. He reeled, clutching at the air. Grebel sloshed from the bottle in his hand.

Hercol caught the doctor's arms. 'Hold on man! It will pa.s.s!'

Chadfallow thrust the swordsman aside and bent over the table. He put his forehead down, moaning. In his grip the table began to vibrate. Then, shaking violently, he raised his head to look at them, and spoke through chattering teeth: 'Twice . . . the . . . grebel . . . half . . . the . . . snuff.'

Those were his last coherent words. Fortunately they were the right ones. When the others had chewed the salt, swallowed the grebel and inhaled the tiniest whiff of thundersnuff, they felt weird and sick, but not deranged. Chadfallow for his part sat grinning, hugging himself, occasionally letting out a strangled scream.

'Well, we're awake,' said Thasha, twitching. 'But there's no more grebel - Chadfallow spilled half of it on the floor. We're not going to be able to give this treatment to anyone anyone.'

'And a hundred monsters in the hold, waiting for their chance,' said Fulbreech.

'Or more,' said Hercol. 'And there is no way to know how much time we have gained. No matter - we shall fight the fight we are given. But be careful! You are not yourselves. Above all, beware your courage. It may be heightened beyond all reason, and lead swiftly to your death. Pazel, are you quite all right?'

'Yeah,' said Pazel, sniffing. 'Just hot. I feel like I'm standing next to a fire.'

'The grebel came around to you last,' said Hercol. 'I wonder if you had enough?'

'I left him half of what came to me,' said Fulbreech quickly.

'I'm all right,' Pazel insisted. 'But listen. We can't do this alone. It's blary impossible. We're going to need--'

'Prayer,' said a voice from the doorway, 'though what mongrel G.o.d might answer you I cannot guess.'

It was Arunis. Pazel, who had not seen him since Bramian, was shocked by the change in his appearance. He had lost all the round plumpness of Mr Ket. His face was pale, almost spectral, and a deathly light shone in his eyes. He gripped his cruel iron mace in one hand, and in the other the neck of a large and bulging sack. He looked amused at the sight of the doctor.

'The Imperial Surgeon,' he jeered. 'Prince of Arquali intellectuals. Whatever you have done to him is an improvement.'

To Pazel's surprise it was Fulbreech who spoke first. 'Get away, sorcerer! You don't deserve to breathe the same air as this man! And if you have any powers at all, use them to reverse what you you did to the rats.' did to the rats.'

'I?' laughed Arunis. 'You witless dog! I have done nothing to the rats! You humans left the Nilstone in a compartment overrun with fleas. You humans failed to notice an ixchel clan in your midsts, or a woken rat possessed by holy lunacy. Yes, I work for your destruction as a race, n.o.ble cause that that is. But how little you force me to do! My only fear is that the Chathrand Chathrand 's crew of savages will destroy itself, before it carries us to Gurishal.' 's crew of savages will destroy itself, before it carries us to Gurishal.'

'A n.o.ble cause was laid before you, long ago,' said Hercol. 'But you chose another path, and have cleaved to it ever since. It has made you very strong, and very empty. Will you not abandon it, Arunis? There is still time to choose a new purpose - a higher purpose, beyond your poisoned dreams.'

'Spare me the sermon,' jeered Arunis. 'Delusion is not to my taste. Was ever a life more empty than your own, Hercol Stanapeth? Where has your higher purpose led? You could have been Ott's successor - the brain behind the Ametrine Throne. You could have been the most powerful man in your Empire. But instead you chose fantasy - a mist of promises and hopes. And so did the rest of you. Where is Ramachni ? Where is your father, girl? A safer place than the Chathrand Chathrand, that is where! And the crawlies! For months you denied their true nature. You couldn't admit that they were simply beasts, born rabid, ready to kill. You wanted them to be your tiny brothers. You wished to befriend them, or--' He looked at Hercol with disgust. '--to train them to perform . . . other services.'

Hercol moved before anyone could stop him. He vaulted over the table and flew at the sorcerer, his black sword raised to strike. Arunis took a step back, lifting his mace, and shouted a word in a strange, harsh language. There was a flash of white light, and Pazel felt himself hurled backwards, as by the slap of some giant's invisible fist. Thasha and Fulbreech were thrown as well. But Hercol did not falter; he only slowed his step, as though fighting upwind in a gale. Ildraquin glowed faintly in his hand, and he shouted a challenge in his native tongue.

Six feet from Arunis he slashed suddenly at the air. Now it was Arunis who felt an unseen blow. He stumbled backwards into the pa.s.sage, amazed and furious. Once more he cried out in the harsh language. There was a second flash. Again Hercol swung at nothing; again the mage fell back. As the swordsman came at him a third time, Arunis hurled the mace with all his strength, and ran.

Hercol might have dodged the mace - but not without endangering those behind him. He caught it full on his s.h.i.+eld, which cracked in two. With a snarl of pain he cast the two pieces to the ground. Then he groped for a wall. He was badly shaken.

'After him!' he gasped. 'He is about to commit some atrocity, I felt it as we fought! Do not let him get away!'

'You're hurt!' cried Thasha.

Hercol shook his head. 'Leave me with Fulbreech! Stop the sorcerer, girl.' With sudden decision he stood and thrust Ildraquin into her hand. 'Go!' he bellowed, pus.h.i.+ng her out.

Thasha ran, and Pazel with her. They could hear the sorcerer's feet pounding across the deck. They entered the main compartment, and there he was, fifty yards ahead, running for the Silver Stair.

He was exhausted, they were gaining on him swiftly. As he reached the stair he looked back and saw Ildraquin in Thasha's hand, and fear shone in his eyes.

Pazel and Thasha gained the stair and hurled themselves down. Pazel could feel the grebel starting to work on his mind: that bad-dream feeling, the way dark and wriggling shapes cl.u.s.tered at the edge of his sight, only to vanish when he looked at them directly. He would have to warn Thasha. You're not mad, it's the drink, it's the snuff, it's every blary thing but you. You're not mad, it's the drink, it's the snuff, it's every blary thing but you.

The berth deck pa.s.sed in a whirl; then they heard Arunis exit onto the orlop. 'I know where he's going!' said Thasha. 'To the Nilstone! To the Nilstone and the s.h.a.ggat Ness!'

They reached the foot of the stair - and backed away in horror, not daring to breathe.

A swarm of giant rats was crossing the orlop, port to starboard, flowing around the foot of the Silver Stair. They were eerily quiet: no more screeching, though soft cries of ”Kill!” still boiled from a few b.l.o.o.d.y mouths. Their stench was alarming: not only the rat-reek the youths had suffered for hours, but a new, oily, heady smell that made them cover their mouths, lest they cough.

As they flowed by within feet of the two humans, the rats suddenly raised their twisted, nasal voices and began to sing: Fearless the child of Rin proclaims: 'Death is the promise that breaks my chains.'

Cold is the journey, but bright the glade Where believers rest in the Milk Tree's shade Faith on fire, blood on the sea, Rin's fair Angel, set me free.

Eighty or ninety of the monsters pa.s.sed, staring straight ahead, as Pazel and Thasha watched without moving a muscle. When the last had scurried by the youths leaned back against the wall, gasping with relief.

'Arunis must have been barely barely ahead of them,' whispered Pazel. ahead of them,' whispered Pazel.

'That chant,' said Thasha, 'it's a hymn. The same one we used to sing at the Lorg, except for that bit about blood. And Pazel - did you see an ixchel ixchel walking with them?' walking with them?'

Pazel started. 'No, I didn't. Listen, Thasha, don't trust your eyes. That grebel--'

'I know,' she said. 'It started back in sickbay. I saw my father standing behind Fulbreech, terribly angry, reaching for his neck. And then--'

She was overtaken by a yawn. Aya Rin Aya Rin, thought Pazel, she's not going to last she's not going to last. Thasha looked at him, frightened, furious, tightening her grip on Ildraquin. 'Let's go,' she said.

They stepped onto the orlop. They could hear the rats scurrying off to starboard, and a voice - Master Mugstur's voice - berating them about their souls. Pazel was glad to find the compartment door torn asunder: it let them pa.s.s through without a sound.

They had stepped into a small chamber, a granary for the s.h.i.+p's livestock. The grain bins had been smashed and plundered. By the far doorway stood a pool of blood.

'The next room's the manger, where Rose put the s.h.a.ggat,' said Thasha. 'Stay behind me, Pazel, and for Rin's sake don't try anything brave.'

At another time he might have made some retort. Now he only nodded. The grebel had turned the pool of blood into a black and steaming pit; he winced as Thasha walked through it, dispelling the illusion.

He followed her into the manger. Dead ahead they could see the stone form of the s.h.a.ggat, chained tight to the stanchion. Clenched in his fist was the Nilstone, darkness made visible, nothingness given form. Bodies lay around the mad Mzithrini king: Turach bodies, and rats. Square bales of hay lay in blood-darkened mounds. But there was no sign of Arunis.

Thasha smacked herself furiously on the head. 'Wrong again! This wasn't where he was going at all!'

'But it is where you are going to die, giants,' said a voice behind them.