Deadhouse Gates

other way around, of course. 'A lie,' Fiddler whispered. 'Kalam's good at those-' like lounging around in Rutu Jelba for a whole damn week on the off-chance that a Skrae trader would come in. 'Book passage in comfort, eh, Fid?' Not like the damned ocean crossing, oh no — and that one was supposed to have been in comfort, too. A whole week in Rutu Jelba, a lizard' infested, orange-bricked cesspool of a city, then what? Eight jakatas for this rag-stoppered sawed-in-half ale casket.

The steady rise and fall lulled Fiddler as the hours passed. His mind drifted back to the appallingly long journey that had brought them thus far, then to the appallingly long journey that lay ahead. We never do things the easy way, do we?

He would rather that every sea dried up. Men got feet, not flippers. Even so, we're about to cross overland — over a fly-infested, waterless waste, where people smile only to announce they're about to kill you.

The day dragged on, green-tinged and shaky.

He thought back to the companions he'd left behind on Genabackis, wishing he could be marching alongside them. Into a religious war. Don't forget that, Fid. Religious wars are no fun. The faculty of reasoning that permitted surrender did not apply in such instances. Still, the squad was all he'd known for years. He felt bereft out of its shadows. Just Kalam for old company, and he calk that land ahead home. And he smiles before he kills. And what's he and Quick Ben got planned they ain't told me about yet?

'There's more of those flying fish,' Apsalar said, her voice identifying the soft hand that had found its way to his shoulder. 'Hundreds of them!'

'Something big from the deep is chasing them,' Kalam said.

Groaning, Fiddler pushed himself upright. Moby took the opportunity to reveal its motivation behind the day's cooing and crawled into the sapper's lap, curling up and closing its yellow eyes. Fiddler gripped the gunnel and joined his three companions in studying the school of flying fish a hundred yards off the starboard side. The length of a man's arm, the milky white fish were clearing the waves, sailing thirty feet or so, then slipping back under the surface. In the Kansu Sea flying fish hunted like sharks, the schools capable of shredding a bull whale down to bones in minutes. They used their ability to fly to launch themselves onto the back of a whale when it broke for air. 'What in Mael's name is hunting them?'

Kalam was frowning. 'Shouldn't be anything here in the Kansu. Out in Seeker's Deep there's dhenrabi, of course.'

'Dhenrabi! Oh, that comforts me, Kalam. Oh yes indeed!'

'Some kind of sea serpent?' Crokus asked.

'Think of a centipede eighty paces long,' Fiddler answered. 'Wraps up whales and ships alike, blows out all the air under its armoured skin and sinks like a stone, taking its prey with it.'

'They're rare,' Kalam said, 'and never seen in shallow water.'

'Until now,' Crokus said, his voice rising in alarm.

The dhenrabi broke the surface in the midst of the flying fish, thrashing its head side to side, a wide razorlike mouth flensing prey by the score. The width of the creature's head was immense, as many as ten arm-spans. Its segmented armour was deep green under the encrusted barnacles, each segment revealing long chitinous limbs.

'Eighty paces long?' Fiddler hissed. 'Not unless it's been cut in half!'

Kalam rose at the tiller. 'Ready with the sail, Crokus. We're going to run. Westerly.'

Fiddler pushed a squawking Moby from his lap and opened his backpack, fumbling to unwrap his crossbow. 'If it decides we look tasty, Kalam …'

'I know,' the assassin rumbled.

Quickly assembling the huge iron weapon, Fiddler glanced up and met Apsalar's wide eyes. Her face was white. The sapper winked. 'Got a surprise if it comes for us, girl.'

She nodded. 'I remember…'

The dhenrabi had seen them. Veering from the school of flying fish, it was now cutting sinuously through the waves towards them.

'That's no ordinary beast,' Kalam muttered. 'You smelling what I'm smelling, Fiddler?'

Spicy, bitter. 'Hood's breath, that's a Soletaken!'

'A what?' Crokus asked.

'Shapeshifter,' Kalam said.

A rasping voice filled Fiddler's mind — and the expressions on his companions' faces told him they heard as well — Mortals, unfortunate for you to witness my passage.

The sapper grunted. The creature did not sound at all regretful.

It continued, For this you must all die, though I shall not dishonour your flesh by eating you.

'Kind of you,' Fiddler muttered, setting a solid quarrel in the crossbow's slot. The iron head had been replaced with a grapefruit-sized clay ball.

Another fisherboat mysteriously lost, the Soletaken mused ironically. Alas.

Fiddler scrambled to the stern, crouching down beside Kalam. The assassin straightened to face the dhenrabi, one hand on the tiller. 'Soletaken! Be on your way — we care nothing for your passage!'

I shall be merciful when killing you. The creature rushed the barque from directly astern, cutting through the water like a sharp-hulled ship. Its jaws opened wide.

'You were warned,' Fiddler said as he raised the crossbow, aimed and fired. The quarrel sped for the beast's open mouth. Lightning fast, the dhenrabi snapped at the shaft, its thin, sawedged teeth slicing through the quarrel and shattering the clay ball, releasing to the air the powdery mixture within the ball. The contact resulted in an instantaneous explosion that blew the Soletaken's head apart.

Fragments of skull and grey flesh raked the water on all sides. The incendiary powder continued to burn fiercely all it clung to, sending up hissing steam. Momentum carried the headless body to within four spans of the barque's stern before it dipped down and slid smoothly out of sight even as the last echoes of the detonation faded. Smoke drifted sideways over the waves.

'You picked the wrong fishermen,' Fiddler said, lowering his weapon.

Kalam settled back at the tiller, returning the craft to a southerly course. A strange stillness hung in the air. Fiddler disassembled his crossbow and repacked it in oilcloth. As he resumed his seat amidships, Moby crawled back into his lap. Sighing, he scratched it behind an ear. 'Well, Kalam?'

'I'm not sure,' the assassin admitted. 'What brought a Soletaken into the Kansu Sea? Why did it want its passage secret?'

'If Quick Ben was here …'

'But he isn't, Fid. It's a mystery we'll have to live with, and hopefully we won't run into any more.'

'Do you think it's related to …?'

Kalam scowled. 'No.'

'Related to what?' Crokus demanded. 'What are you two going on about?'

'Just musing,' Fiddler said. 'The Soletaken was heading south. Like us.'

'So?'

Fiddler shrugged. 'So … nothing. Just that.' He spat again over the side and slumped down. 'The excitement made me forget my seasickness. Now the excitement's faded, dammit.'

Everyone fell silent, though the frown on the face of Crokus told the sapper that the boy wasn't about to let the issue rest for long.

The gale remained steady, pushing them hard southward. Less than three hours after that Apsalar announced that she could see land ahead, and forty minutes later Kalam directed the craft parallel to the Ehrlitan coastline half a league offshore. They tacked west, following the cedar-lined ridge as the day slowly died.

'I think I see horsemen,' Apsalar said.

Fiddler raised his head, joining the others in studying the line of riders following a coastal track along the ridge.

'I make them six in all,' Kalam said. 'Second rider's-'

'Got an Imperial pennon,' Fiddler finished, his face twisting at the taste in his mouth. 'Messenger and Lancer guard-'