saved them. The Chathrand slept on.
Thasha put her face in her hands.
Pazel touched her shoulder, but Thasha only stiffened and leaned away. Neeps looked at him and nodded. Telling him he'd done what he had to. It didn't make Pazel feel any better.
Druffle looked at Marila, eyes blazing with accusation. 'Why'd you bring me here?' he asked.
33
9 Umbrin 941
179th day from Etherhorde
If opening the clock had proved an ambiguous wonder, the fact that no one fled the room afterwards was simply a miracle. Big Skip was still staring at the suitcase, into which Pazel had quickly packed away the clock. Druffle was nipping from a flask. Bolutu, for his part, gazed fixedly at a spot in the air, bending his notebook first one way, then the other.
Thasha sat silent, face in her hands. Ramachni had not come; no help of any kind had come, and now the newcomers were terrified. Their rebellion was sinking into chaos before it had even begun. Pazel sat across from her, wishing that he could take her aside, calm her, beg her not to feel ashamed. But there was no chance of that.
Neeps and Marila, to their credit, were trying to steer the meeting back on course.
'What you've got to remember,' Neeps was saying, 'is never to touch Arunis of your own free will. Pazel found out the hard way: it gives him the power to look into your mind, somehow. That's why he could kill poor Peytr Bourjon. Once he knows you're not the spell-keeper, you're fair game.'
'We've been wondering what Arunis could have promised him, to make him shake hands,' Marila added.
'Safe passage off the IMS Chathrand,' suggested Big Skip, 'that is, if we reach the south. If there is a south.'
'That is the other great unknown,' said Khalmet, breaking his wary silence. 'I mean the South itself. Drellarek always spoke of resupplying quickly, making west along the southern shores, taking our bearings at some known location, and then returning north to Gurishal, behind the Mzithrini defences. But he knew nothing of the land or its people. Will we face a wilderness like Bramian, full of beasts and savages? If we fled the ship we might perish in a day, or wither slowly, while Rose and his loyalists sat at anchor, starving us out.
'But we might just as likely find a civilised country, with townships and industries, and force of arms. We must be ready to contact such people. It may be they have ships that could take on the Chathrand.'
'Like the Jistrolloq did?' said Fiffengurt. 'Don't bet on it, mister. Rose fights above his weight.'
'I'll bet there's nothing but a wasteland,' said Druffle. 'Nothing but toads and spiders, rocks and desolation, and hills all sheathed in ice.'
'Toads and ice?' said Marila.
Pazel saw Bolutu shaking his head, as if he had heard nearly all he could stand.
'Just a minute,' said Neeps. 'The Chathrand and her sister-ships used to cross the Nelluroq all the time. There has to be civilization in the south. Otherwise, why bother?'
'That was centuries ago, mate,' said Dastu.
'Aye,' said Khalmet, 'and civilizations come and go.'
Bolutu uncurled his notebook — a warped, water-stained ruin after months of abuse — scrawled two words, and held them up: NOT THESE.
They looked back at him, puzzled. 'Whaddya mean?' said Big Skip.
The veterinarian frowned, looking from face to face. He began to write again.
' The wa… waking… phenomenon,' Druffle read over his shoulder. 'As in waking animals? What's that got to do with the Queen's Tea?'
Bolutu stopped writing and sighed. Then he dashed off a sentence and held it up.
NOTHING WILL GET DONE AT THIS MEETING.
'Well you're a right blary naysayer,' growled Fiffengurt. 'Why don't you help us get somethin' done, then? Ain't you an educated man?'
Suddenly Bolutu rose to his feet. Everyone tensed: the black man's lips were pressed tight together, and his eyes were almost closed. He raised the notebook, squeezing it as though demanding some last service from its tattered pages.
'He wants something hard to write on,' said Big Skip.
Bolutu closed his hand, crushing the notebook in his fist. 'No, he doesn't.' He tossed the notebook down with a smack. 'Jathod! He doesn't want to write another word.'
There were gasps. Big Skip made the sign of the Tree. 'You can talk!' said Fiffengurt.
'And you can hear,' rasped Bolutu. His voice was dry, and his words distorted, as though he had almost forgotten how to speak. Then he opened his mouth wide, and showed them a pink and perfect tongue.
'Black spellcraft!' hissed Druffle, edging away. 'You're a conjurer! A hoojee hexman from the Griib!'
'That's ugly, Mr Druffle,' said Marila. But in fact they were all in shock. Bolutu had grown a new tongue.
Say something, Pazel! cried Diadrelu. Khalmet has his hand on his sword!
'Listen to me!' Pazel blurted. 'Whoever he is, he risked his life to save me from Arunis!'
'That's right, that's right,' babbled Fiffengurt. 'And if you are a hex-man, Bolutu — well, that's just fine with us. So long as you're our hex-man, he he.'
'I am neither hoojee nor hexman, whatever those may be,' said Bolutu quietly. 'Nor am I a Slevran, as I was forced to claim.'
'Told you!' said Neeps. 'I told you he was a Noonfirther! Didn't I?'
Bolutu shook his head. 'I am not.'
A hint of panic entered the room. Neeps, trying gamely to contain the situation, forced out a laugh. 'Fine then, I got it wrong. Let's not get excited. We're all human beings.'
'I am not,' said Bolutu.
Everyone leaped up; Khalmet's sword was out in a flash; Druffle bared his cutlass, and even Fiffengurt whipped the blackjack from his pocket. Bolutu wisely raised his hands in surrender. For a moment they heard only their own breath and the slosh of the bilgewater. Then Pazel stepped in front of Bolutu, his heart pounding. Courage, courage! said Diadrelu from above.
Trembling, Pazel extended his hand. 'Elaya,' he said.
'Elaya chol! ' replied a delighted Bolutu, shaking his hand. 'And where did you learn Nemmocian, Mr Pathkendle?'
'On Bramian,' said Pathkendle. 'From a scrap of paper in Ott's hand. I've never heard it spoken before this minute. And… it's not your native tongue, is it?'
Bolutu shook his head. 'Indeed, I barely speak Nemmocian, though I read it well. Can you guess why?'
'Not if my life depended on it,' said Pazel.
'What in Rin's name is happening, here?' demanded Khalmet. 'Who is this lunatic, who says he is not human?'
Suddenly Thasha gasped. 'It was you!' she said. 'It was you I was sensing, not Ramachni at all! But you're with him, aren't you? You're his friend!'
'Friend?' Bolutu smiled at her in turn. 'Admirer might be a better word. I have the honour to know and revere him, but I have seen Ramachni only once in the past twenty years: at the battle of the Straits of Simja, the day he put out the coal Arunis placed in my mouth.'
He looked at the ring of startled faces. 'Don't fear me, please. I am your ally still, and will hide the truth from you no longer. My name is Belesar Bolutu Malineko Urstorch. I am a dlomu. And I must hasten to inform you that the battle we are engaged in is larger than you have ever suspected.'
