the will that bends Empires to my purpose! I shall wield the Nilstone, and loose the Swarm of Night, and scour this world for its new dispensation! Come, sibyl! Come kneel before me!'
On his last words, the light vanished: the figure disappeared. Captain Rose gave a howl of frustration, but Oggosk silenced him with an urgent wave. No one moved. Then Arunis whirled to face the righthand wall.
A new pool of light, small and blue and restless, hovered on the wall above a dark doorway. This time it took no human form. But a voice came from it all the same: a woman's voice, distant as thunder's echo, yet somehow clear as temple bells.
'Arunis Wytterscorm,' it said. 'Great mage, death-deceiver, Elder of Idharin. You whose gifts were given that you might seal the wounds of Alifros, the torn flesh, where the black blood of the underworld seeps in. You who preferred the commerce of devils and wraiths, theft from neighbouring worlds, a shameless auction of your own. Why should I kneel? You are not my elder. And this is my house. No, I do not kneel, but I challenge you: catch me, blood mage! Catch me and drink of my wisdom, or go with my curse!'
And with that the light made a furtive, teasing dart into the doorway.
But Arunis scowled and stood his ground. 'I will not follow where you lead,' he said.
The voice laughed softly. 'And I will not suffer your evil touch. I see what is in your book. You would draw the six-sided prison and trap me inside. But that will never be.'
'Ah!' cackled Lady Oggosk. 'That's your game, is it, mage?'
The blue light emerged from the doorway, slid down the stone rings one by one, and vanished into the flames. A moment later Dastu pointed: there it was again, sliding from the burning water on the opposite side, pausing on a broken step.
'Hercol of Tholjassa,' said the woman's voice. 'Have you come to ask for knowledge, or forgiveness? I think you have great need of both.'
'As do all who walk the earth,' said Hercol, gruff and startled. 'But I do not seek them here.'
'You were always wise,' said the voice, soothingly. 'Love, then — love, which is where knowledge and forgiveness meet; love, which alone is balm to broken souls. You have lived too long without it, warrior. You have fought in its name, but the love was always for others to enjoy. Come and take it, before you grow old, before it is too late forever. For you too carry an open wound.'
Thasha looked with distress at her friend and tutor. Hercol told her so little about his past — nothing of the Secret Fist, next to nothing of what came before it, or after. Was the sibyl speaking the truth? What kind of wound could he be suffering from, and why hadn't she seen it herself?
Again the light began to slide towards an archway. Hercol watched in silence. But when it reached the threshold, his eyes changed. A shocked and naked look stole over him, and he reached out helplessly towards the light. He took a step forward, and Thasha moved to stop him. To her surprise, Dastu's hand tightened on hers.
'Let him go,' he whispered. 'Poor man, let him find her, whoever she is.'
Thasha hesitated, then shook her head. She pulled away from Dastu and rushed to Hercol. At the touch of her hand the swordsman jumped, 'Thasha!' he breathed, like a man waking from a dream.
Thasha glanced up at the doorway, and her breath caught in her throat. Just beyond the threshhold, where the dancing light hovered still, the floor ended in a steaming pit. Hercol had been walking towards his death.
Now the light pulled away from the door, and came to rest at Thasha's feet.
'For you,' it said softly, and almost in a tone of respect, 'I have nothing to offer. For what good is a lighted lamp, or a book lain open on the table, until the reader takes her hands from her eyes?'
Thasha felt her skin grow cold. The sibyl had to be speaking of the Polylex. It was ghastly, however, to realise that a creature that had just tried to kill her oldest friend seemed to be giving the same advice as Ramachni.
The blue light vanished into the flames once more, and when it emerged it began to circle Pazel. Three times it swept around him, and several times Pazel reached out, only to drop his hands swiftly, as if fighting some impulse he knew to be dangerous. When the light spoke at last, it used a strange, inhuman language that made Pazel cover his ears in sudden distress. Thasha had heard it before: it was the unforgettably strange tongue of the sea-murths, who had nearly killed Pazel and Neeps along the Haunted Coast, before helping them to raise the Red Wolf from the depths. Then the light abandoned Pazel and raced to yet another doorway.
'Well, Captain,' said the woman's voice, suddenly bright and airy. 'Twelve years ago you fled my Manse with unsightly haste, and I doubted you would ever return. Yet here you are. Curiosity was ever the death of cats and pleasure-seekers, isn't that so?'
Oggosk glared in sudden anger. Rose bowed his head and said nothing.
'And what can I do for the commander of the Wind Palace,' the voice continued, 'that I could not do when last we met?'
'Accept a gift, lady,' said Rose. 'A small token of my esteem, and an apology for the noise and violence of our last encounter.'
'It is not to me that you should tender your regrets,' said the voice. 'But if you have brought me something, some warm and pretty megigandatra-'
She said several more strange words, and slowly the light descended towards the broken stone once more. Thasha was amazed: despite her coy words, the voice was suddenly childlike, hungry for the captain's gift, trying and failing to hide its eagerness. Thasha reeled at the wonder of it all: they were haggling with a strange and mighty being, spiteful and even murderous, and yet no more immune to loneliness and want than the very beings she was trying to entrap.
'Falindrath,' said the sibyl, as the light crept nearer. 'Apendli, margote, bri?'
Rose turned and lunged for Pazel, dragging him forward. 'Answer her, Pathkendle!' he cried, breathless with excitement.
Pazel waved his hands in protest. 'Captain! I don't speak — I've never heard-'
'You'll do fine! She always talks in riddles! Say whatever you like, but say it sweetly! Here, that's a good lad, take the present, give it to her!'
'When she asks!' hissed Oggosk.
'When she asks!' cried Rose, shaking Pazel violently by the arm. 'Only when she asks, damn it, don't be so eager, she's a lady!'
Hands trembling, he took the carved stone from his mouth and held it out to Pazel. Flabbergasted, Pazel reached for the stone-and squeezed too hard. The wet stone popped like a grape from between his thumb and forefinger. Rose made a wild grab, and only managed to send it flying like a shuttlecock across the room. In the darkness they heard it strike the wall — and then a soft splash.
Oggosk shrieked. Rose dealt Pazel a blow that sent him flying. The sibyl gave a wail of regret, and the enchanted light swept across the floor in the direction of the stone. But as it passed Arunis, the sorcerer's hand shot out and seemed to close on something invisible. The voice gave a cry of pain.
Arunis pulled hard, like a fisherman setting a hook, and grimaced as the light throbbed in his fist. There was no doubt: he had her. And with the Polylex in one hand and the sibyl trapped in the other, he leaped headlong over the flames, up the stones rings, and vanished through a lightless arch.
'After him! After him!' shrieked Oggosk. 'Didn't you hear the sibyl? His book has a drawing of a spirit cell! If he copies it out and imprisons her inside, she'll be forced to tell him anything he wants. Do you understand? Anything! Run, run, you jackdaws!'
The next minutes were mad. The men and tarboys (except Peytr, who crouched in the doorway where Rose had left him) marauded into the darkness after the sorcerer. Thasha started to go as well, but Oggosk grabbed at her arm.
'Not you, girl. You stay here at my side.'
Thasha was incensed. 'Let go! I have to help them!'
'You will be. By staying put.'
'I can fight as well as they can! And Pazel's barefoot, and hurt, thanks to your favourite thug. Why does it have to be me?'
Oggosk slapped her.
'Because I wish it, you arrogant girl! Because I'm your elder five times over! Because you'd still be flouncing about in your nightdress on the Chathrand if I hadn't brought you along!'
Thasha was bleeding; the witch's rings had cut her face. 'Why did you bother?' she asked.
