To one side a pointed stone shard resembling an immense fang reared at an angle from the waters. Its contours troubled Antsy until he recognized its features: a circular staircase cut from the very rock spiralled upwards, ending at empty air. The sight brought home the outrageousness, the impertinence, of their intentions. Orchid sobered, losing her excited grin, and she rubbed her arms as if chilled. Even the sailors grew quiet. They peered everywhere at once and Antsy didn’t think it was from the difficulty of the passage. Only Malakai and, surprisingly, Corien appeared unaffected by the atmosphere of alien grandeur.
Every little sound echoed into distorted noise: the harsh cawing of the seabirds, the crack of the poles against rock, unseen falling stones, and the constant slap of the waves. From beneath the water, Antsy caught the glint of the day’s dying light glimmering from sunken metal, possibly even silver or gold. Multicoloured fish darted, nibbling at algae and seaweed.
Orchid began humming a slow dirge-like tune. The humming became words that she whispered to the passing shattered basaltic rock.
Mother Dark he forswore,
Death’s own blade he bore.
Dragon’s blood courses his veins,
Immortal,
He walks till end of Light:
Anomander,
Night’s own fickle Knight.
Everyone turned to her. Even the sailors stopped poling. Blinking as if returning from a long daydream she blushed furiously, her dark features flushing, and she lowered her head. ‘From an epic poem composed during the Holy City period of the Seven Cities region,’ she said.
Corien cleared his throat. ‘Thank you. Very appropriate.’
The sailors eyed one another but none commented. They returned to their poling, following a route known only to them. The main island reared over them now, rising sheer from the surf as a cliff. The sailors started edging the punt round it. Between the shards, off to one side, Antsy spotted an anchored ship rocking in the waves. It was long and low-slung in the water, single-masted. A war galley. Shields hung all along its side just above the oar- ports. In the dying light it was hard to tell, but the shields appeared somehow decorated. Then it was gone in the maze of rocks. Antsy turned away shaking his head; it was almost as if he’d imagined it.
The punt yawed dangerously now, threatening to capsize. The waves batted it like the toy it was. A number of times it was almost swamped as the surf threatened to suck it against the rocks of the cliff. A darker shadow, the mouth of a cave some way above the waterline, came into view round the curve ahead and as they drew near Antsy spotted a rope ladder hanging from it into the surf. The sailors poled the boat to just beneath. ‘Get your gear,’ one yelled over the crash of the waves.
‘Get closer!’ Antsy demanded, but started gathering the equipment. Corien grabbed one set of waterskins and Antsy silently thanked him.
‘Now, go!’ a sailor shouted.
‘Wait just a damned minute!’
When the punt dipped in the surf Malakai suddenly leapt to land on a tiny stone ledge. He trailed the rope behind him. Antsy pressed it into Orchid’s hands. ‘Hold on.’
‘I can’t swim!’
‘Then hold on, dammit!’
The poles cracked against the rocks as the sailors desperately fended the boat from the cliff. Orchid yelled something lost in the crash of waves and jumped for the end of the rope ladder. The punt nearly tipped over. She disappeared into the foaming blue-black waves. Malakai hauled on the rope. Antsy remembered the girl’s amazingly strong grip. She appeared again, thrown up by the surf, driven against the rock wall, to which she clung. Malakai began making his way to her, dragging the rope ladder with him.
Corien took the punt’s side next. While the man timed his jump Antsy belted the two panniers he had been carrying to himself. ‘How do we get off the damned island?’ he yelled to the nearest sailor.
The man waved him away. ‘Go, damn you!’
Antsy pointed to the cave. ‘Is this where we get off, too?’
Corien leapt and hit the side, where he hung by both hands. He clambered up the uneven cliff face.
‘Jump or we take you back with us!’ a sailor barked, and swung his pole at Antsy.
‘Let me go or we’re all dead!’
‘Answer!’
‘All right! Hood’s grin, man!’
Then the bottom of the punt launched up into Antsy, clouting him in the mouth, and there was a shout of warning, a snapping of wood, and the water sucked him down into its cold embrace. The sailor he still had by the belt kicked at him; the two panniers of equipment dragged him down like stone weights. He cut the straps of one, hoping it was the right choice. A wall of black stone veined with bubbles flew at him. The collision knocked out his remaining breath and he gulped in a mouthful of water. He scrabbled for a grip over the slimy rock. He knew he was drowning and it outraged him that there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. It wasn’t goddamned fair.
It seemed that the world, with all its infinite traps, had finally caught up with him.
He came to coughing and vomiting up seawater. Someone held him upright in chest-high surging waves: Malakai. The man was shouting something: ‘Did you lose it! Where is it?’
Still dry-heaving, Antsy dug at the remaining pannier; it was his. He grinned his relief to Malakai, who grunted, nodding. The man also had a grip on the rope ladder and he swung Antsy to it. ‘Damned fool.’
At the back of the cave was a flight of ascending steps cut into the rock, barely as wide as his shoulders. It was pitch black but for the light from the cave mouth. Antsy felt his way on all fours. Seawater dripped from him on to the stairs, which were cold beneath his hands, and as slippery as polished marble. He kept almost falling until he realized that the stairs tilted crazily to one side. He smelled something, an old familiar smell — it came from something smeared over the stairs, and because it had been some time it took him a moment to recognize the tang of dried blood.
‘Almost at the top,’ came Orchid’s voice from above.
Hands took his shoulders and she led him to a wall. He leaned against it, grateful. She seemed to be having no trouble in the absolute black. ‘Corien?’
‘Gone ahead.’
‘How far?’ from Malakai, sharp.
‘Not far,’ came Corien’s voice.
Antsy couldn’t take it any longer: ‘I can’t see a goddamned blasted thing!’
Silence, the muted roar of the surf. ‘Anyone else?’ asked Malakai.
‘I’ve always had excellent night vision,’ said Orchid.
‘Before I came I visited an alchemist. He gave me an unguent,’ Corien said.
‘Can you give some to Red?’
‘Ah. Sorry. There’s really only enough for one.’
Antsy felt his way along the wall to the top of the stairs. He squinted down; there, dull grey, a glimmering.
‘Don’t we have
‘Yes,’ Malakai answered, reluctantly. ‘But I’d rather not announce our presence by shining it everywhere.’
‘Well, you should’ve thought of that when you hired us.’
