The Night of the Swarm

‘The Chathrand,’ put in Thasha.

‘Or the Promise, or Prince Olik.’

‘Or the selk.’

‘In Tholjassa, all toasts are silent,’ said Hercol. ‘Some things are better thought than said.’

The choice pleased everyone. They served the brandy in dented silver cups (none of the glassware survived) and drank it off without a word. Then Thasha asked Marila for the little rod from the stanchion. ‘Come with me, all of you — and bring the Nilstone, Hercol.’

They filed into her cabin, which Marila had not changed in the slightest. Thasha rounded the bed and reached up to press a spot in the wall just above eye height. Click went a hidden latch, and a door unseen a moment earlier sprang open. Within was a small cabinet, empty save for a book, bound in dark leather and exceptionally thick.

Thasha smiled. ‘Hello, old friend.’

She handed it to Marila: the Polylex, of course. But Thasha wasn’t interested in the forbidden lore-book. She was looking at an iron plate set in the wall at the back of the cabinet. It was a rusty, formidable slab of metal, with a thick handle and a small round hole.

‘Look close, you can see an outline of a drawer,’ said Thasha. And so there was: a drawer some five inches tall and twice as wide, almost hidden by the rust. Thasha placed the notched end of the silver rod into the hole: a perfect fit. She turned it experimentally. ‘Did you hear that?’ she said. ‘Something clicked.’

She gripped the handle and tugged, to no avail. She pressed the rod deeper into the hole and turned it again, pulling at the handle as she did so. She removed the rod and inserted it backwards. The drawer would not move.

‘Gods damn it!’ she said. ‘I was so blary certain.’

Hercol set the steel box with the Nilstone carefully on Thasha’s desk (which groaned a little at the weight). ‘Make room, Thasha, there’s a lass.’ He stood square before the cabinet and seized the handle of the drawer in both hands. He drew a deep breath. Then he threw himself backwards with all his strength. There was a shriek of metal on metal, and the drawer slid open with a decisive snap.

‘Locks were not your problem, Thasha — merely rust. Your key worked perfectly well.’

What had slid open was in fact no drawer at all, but a thick iron slab. It extended more than a foot into the room, and had but one feature: a cup-like hollow at the centre, about the size of a plum.

‘I knew it!’ cried Felthrup suddenly. ‘This is Erithusme’s safe!’

Marila stared at him. ‘What safe?’

‘I told you, I told you! The safe they spoke of in the Orfuin Club!’

‘I’m sure you’re right, Felthrup,’ said Ramachni. ‘My mistress had various safes for the Nilstone in her dwellings ashore, though I never knew one had been installed on the Chathrand. They mask the power of the Stone, and make it harder — though not impossible — for enemies to detect. You won’t need that box any longer, Hercol. I daresay no one will be able to steal the Nilstone from this spot.’

Hercol donned the selk gauntlets while Pazel unlocked Big Skip’s box. With great care, Hercol tipped the Nilstone into his hand. ‘Glaya, it’s heavy!’ he wheezed. But the Stone fit snugly in the hollow of the slab.

Thasha gazed at the black orb, and it seemed to Pazel that she could not look away. Then Hercol pushed the drawer firmly shut, and Thasha blinked, as though starting from a dream.

They placed the wine of Agaroth in the outer cabinet, wrapped in scarves and braced by the Polylex. Thasha closed the outer door, and once again Pazel could see nothing but the wooden wall.

‘Ramachni,’ said Thasha, ‘there’s still wine in that bottle: two or three sips, anyway. I can use it. I can control the Nilstone.’

‘Let us speak of that another time,’ said Ramachni.

‘I know what you’re afraid of,’ said Thasha. ‘You think I’ll hold the Stone too long, and let myself get killed. But I wouldn’t risk that, I promise. I’ll be safe.’

‘Only my mistress could use the Nilstone safely,’ said Ramachni. ‘Keep striving to bring her back, and forget the wine for now. If we must turn to it, we will. But I would be happier if that bottle never again touched your lips.’

A faint hoot sounded from above: the bosun’s wooden whistle. ‘Ah, that’s our sign,’ said Mr Fiffengurt, rather sadly. ‘Come quickly, all of you. The Promise is ready to depart.’

Pazel felt a sudden ache: he had not prepared himself for goodbyes. But if Kirishgan only makes it back to that ship! Then at last Pazel could stop fearing for him every time they spoke, every time the selk drew near.

Up they hurried to the topdeck. By the Red Storm’s light they saw the Promise standing near, anchors up, sails loosed but not yet set. Her skiff was crossing the space between the vessels to collect any stragglers.

Hundreds of men had turned out on the Chathrand, but it was not hard to spot the few remaining selk and dlomu among them. Here were Kirishgan and Nolcindar, along with Bolutu, Prince Olik and a handful of the Masalym volunteers. The selk were talking with Neda and Corporal Mandric, while Myett and Ensyl looked down from the shrouds just a few feet above their heads. As the group from the stateroom drew near, Prince Olik turned to face them, and a hush fell over the crowd.

‘Well, here we stand,’ said the prince. ‘The hunters of Arunis, together a final time. Do you remember the day I came aboard hidden in a water-cask, and Captain Rose bled me with his knife? I thought my end had come, but now I shall count that day as blessed. How else could I have met you?’

‘You might have been better off if you hadn’t, Your Highness,’ said Pazel.

‘No, lad,’ said the prince. ‘I should have been poorer, sadder, and most certainly lost. You saved me from that doom. You reminded me that however desperate my struggle for the soul of Bali Adro, it is but one battle in the larger war for Alifros. You let me feel the curve and compass of the world, beyond my darkening Empire. Alas, the wider world too is darkening swiftly. But look what has come from the darkness.’ He spread his hands. ‘You, friends, have been my candles and my hope. Allies undreamed of, allies I know I shall never see again.’

‘A few of us may yet return to your country, Olik Ipandracon,’ said Ramachni, ‘if the darkness passes, and the world is renewed.’

‘We will still fight the darkness together, even though we part,’ said Kirishgan.

‘Yes, brother, we will,’ said Nolcindar. ‘For just as I led Macadra astray in the mountains, so will we seek her now, and fool her again. When she spies us, we will seem to panic, and run downwind. She will never catch us, but she may well give chase.’

‘And now goodbye, and safe running,’ said the prince. ‘Whether we meet in this life or the next, you shall dwell for ever in my heart.’

They crowded near him, with words of praise, and not a few tears. Then the prince descended the folding ladder and was gone from sight. He was followed by most of the volunteers from Masalym, while the humans cheered them, and sang, and flint-hard old sailors stammered and wept. Some actually held the dlomu back by force, shaking their hands and plying them with brandy, trading hats, trading rings and trinkets. Secrets were told and pardons asked. Unsolicited confessions were heaped on the bewildered dlomu, and still the humans talked. They had never understood the dlomu, or quite ceased to fear them²⁰; but the two races had fought and died together, and now it was finished, done.

Nolcindar took her leave next, and the survivors of the inland expedition struggled to find words for their gratitude. When his turn came before her, Pazel wished he could speak of Ularamyth, of the love that had filled him there and made him feel a foot taller and a century older and a match for any horrors from the Pits. He said none of it: the protective spell had sealed his tongue. Anguished, he gazed at this great woman of the selk, and something in Nolcindar’s smile told him that she knew.

As she descended the ladder, Pazel turned to Bolutu. ‘You’ve done so much for us,’ he said. ‘You saved my life on the bowsprit, that day Arunis left me to fall into the sea. More than that, you saved us from despair, by telling us the story of Bali Adro.’

Bolutu laughed. ‘Even though it proved out of date.’