The Night of the Swarm

enough. Thasha met his eyes, and slowly loosened her grip. Pazel rolled away, trying not to let go of her, and then they groped for their clothes.

Thasha stood. ‘I think I’d best face away from you.’

‘Towards the Chathrand?’

‘That’ll do.’

She tightened a bootlace, looked up at him with a grin. ‘I’m glad we weren’t careful this time. A child would fix her.’

‘It can’t be what she has in mind.’

They smiled for each other. He was grateful when she didn’t force herself to laugh.

‘I’ll be looking for you, you know,’ she said. ‘When I can. If I can.’

‘Don’t promise me that, Thasha.’

She nodded, wiped her eyes, kissed him swiftly once more. Then she turned away from him, and without looking back handed him the Blessing-Band.

‘Trust feels good,’ she said.

‘Nothing better,’ he agreed, and spoke the word that blinds to give new sight.

This time there was no concussion, no bending of reality, no darkening of the sun. A little pulse went through his temples, dizzying him, but it passed in a heartbeat, and he felt unchanged. Thasha tilted her head as though at a curious thought. Her back was to him, but he could have touched her. A moment ago it was so easy. He wasn’t even dry from their lovemaking.

He watched her walk away onto the open sand.

When she had gone twenty paces she looked up at the Swarm. Then into the distance. Slowly she raised her arms and wrapped them around her head. Pazel waited, barely breathing. Thasha lowered her arms, looked at her left palm, and cursed- ’Bugger all, she did it! The wretched girl did as she was told!’

Thasha’s voice, but not Thasha. She moved her hands experimentally, felt the contours of her body. His lover’s body. Then she whirled and looked at him, affronted.

‘What the devil?’ she cried. ‘Is this Gurishal? Am I standing by the Arrowhead Sound?’

He said yes, that was where she was. Then he told her the rest of what she needed to know.

‘I do recognise the vessel,’ she said sharply. ‘It’s mine, after all. And I’m well aware that the Nilstone is aboard. I could feel it, even from — a great distance away. Never mind. Why are you skulking around behind me? What is it you want?’

Pazel stared at her.

‘Speak up, boy!’ she shouted. ‘Have we met?’

‘Gods,’ he said, ‘I never thought it would work on you.’

He had directed the Master-Word to blind Thasha to his existence, to make her forget she’d ever known someone named Pazel Pathkendle. But Master-Words could be brutal, or least brutally imprecise. This one had swept right through Thasha’s mind, and erased Erithusme’s memory of him as well.

Now her look contained the hint of a threat. ‘Work on me?’ she said.

He did his best to explain. ‘Your disciple Ramachni gave me the words. This was the last of them. And yes, we’ve met before.’

‘Where and when, pray?’

‘A few months ago, in-’

His voice froze. The magic of Ularamyth still sealed his tongue.

She waved at him irritably. ‘I think you are touched in the head. If you’re not, or not too badly, start running for your life. I may have to do some terrible things in the next few minutes.’

‘Oh, you do,’ he said. ‘Look in your shirt pocket.’

She jumped, looked at him with even more vexation. She raised her hand to her pocket and removed a bit of folded parchment. ‘Whose writing is this?’ she demanded.

‘Yours. I mean hers, Thasha’s. The idea was hers, too.’

‘She thought of this plan? The girl?’

‘Why do you find that so strange?’

‘I believe I shall do it,’ said Erithusme, amazed at her own words. ‘The force should suffice. It could be the only force that will suffice.’ She glanced at him again. ‘Did I not say that you should run?’

‘I mean to,’ said Pazel. ‘But Erithusme: remember your promise. When the Nilstone is gone, you’ll give that body back to her, you swore-’

‘Never in two thousand years have I broken an oath!’ she shrieked. ‘Get on, you needling brat! This is the last deed of my life, and you are making it unbearable!’

‘It’s because I love her,’ he said.

She laughed, indifferent. Then she blinked, turned to gaze at him with deeper understanding. ‘And she you.’

He nodded.

‘Desperately,’ she said. ‘That was it, that was what made her keep fighting me. That was the power that kept rebuilding the wall. She could want to give way to me, let me return and deal with the Nilstone. But she couldn’t ever truly want to lose you. She mated with you, with doom hanging over you both like a pall.’

‘Something you can’t understand.’

The mage considered. ‘Quite right. I cannot. But I know power when I feel it. And I will return Thasha her body when this job is done — and only then. Now for the last time, run.’

He ran. The dunes fought him, swallowing his feet. He doubled back to grab the blanket but could not find it, and then, in the thicket of trees, he could not find the stairs. When at last he did he took them two at a time, ambushed by the fear of having waited too long.

If he drowned today she’d be searching for a dead man.

At the top of the fourth staircase he saw her climbing an accordion-ladder. By the time he topped the seventh, the gunports were sealing themselves, one by one. He was already winded. Thirteen to go.

Far above, the last of the climbers were spreading out along the ridgetop, hundreds of feet above the saddle where the canyon began. There were Jorl and Suzyt; there was Marila’s round belly, and Neeps holding her close.

Twelve staircases behind him. Now he could look back over the sound, all the way to the Arrowhead, the stone that ought to fall. Thirteen staircases. On the beach, the Chathrand suddenly righted herself, slid into deeper water, turned her prow to face the wall.

Fourteen staircases. A tremor shook the earth.

Pitfire. Pitfire. I’m too late.

He could barely feel his legs, but they still served him, he still climbed. Not high enough. You can’t stop. Keep going. He was dizzy, falling and bouncing to his feet again, scraping his hands. Was this the fifteenth staircase? The sixteenth? He was no longer sure.

The wall still loomed above him. He was crawling. And that wouldn’t do.

Then the Arrowhead fell.

‘Oh credek, no!’

It toppled straight inland, like a tree. Millions of cubic feet of rock struck the water in an instant. And then the wave came, like a second mountain. Like an act of vengeance by the Gods.

He was seeing stars. The wave was big enough. That was all he could think of, all that mattered. It would lift the ship and everything else on that mile-long beach, and would not stop for anything, anyone, between here and death.

A monstrous roaring filled the canyon. As the canyon narrowed the wave grew taller and taller still. He crawled a few more steps. A wind rose that nearly knocked him flat.

Yes, it was big enough, and Erithusme was there with her hand on the Nilstone, holding her broken ship together by will and sorcery. That was enough. It would have to be enough. He had earned his rest.

‘Get up you damned fool!’

Neda. Neeps. They had come out of nowhere and seized his arms, one on each side, and all but carrying him