At least not yet.
One of the malformed creatures edged up closer before her; it struck her that they were even more wary of her than she of them.
‘You are understanding of me?’ it asked.
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘We are decided to allow you to go. You go if you wish. Imprisonment is hurtful. We are many victims of cruel imprisonment. We would not impress it upon any other. We are not like you.’
Kiska thought it rather convenient of them to allow her to leave after she’d already escaped. But she let that pass. Instead she asked, ‘Like me?’
‘Yes. Like you. Those who summon us, imprison us, use us cruelly, send us melt among the Vitr. Those like you.’
Kiska understood. Human mages. Summoners. Theurgical researchers. Her breath caught as she realized:
Steps behind her and Leoman emerged. ‘Labour problems?’ he asked.
‘They are lowering the blockade.’
The Seven Cities native nodded sagely. ‘Sieges are a test of patience.’
Kiska didn’t say that she thought these things could easily outwait them if it came to that. She addressed them: ‘I am looking for the one known as Thenaj. Do you know where he is?’
A flurry of hissing and burbling among the dun-brown creatures answered her. Their spokesman pointed the longer of its blunt limbs. ‘It is as feared. You are come to take him away. You mustn’t! The Great One is much pleased by him. He was very sad all alone for so long.’
‘The Great One. You mean Maker?’
‘Names are dangerous things. To us he is the Great One.’
‘I understand.’ She set her hands on her hips. ‘May we go then?’
‘We will not close the way … but we will not help either.’
Kiska sighed. ‘Fine.’ She waved Leoman forward. ‘Let’s go.’
They walked in silence for a time. The malformed creatures were left behind at their caves. Leoman, she noted, paced warily, hands on his weapons. ‘You’re nervous?’ she asked.
‘I’m wondering how the big one will take this.’
‘Sounds like he was outvoted.’
‘Ah, voting. Such a political arrangement is fine on paper, or among philosophers. But it tends to break apart upon the rocks of application.’
Kiska cocked a brow. A revolutionary political philosopher? ‘Oh? How so?’
‘Inequity. Disparities in power. For some unknown reason our big friend chooses to play along with the delusion of egalitarianism. But believe me, when the wishes of the powerful are thwarted they will set aside any communal agreements and pursue their own plans regardless. Because they can.’
‘You sound bitter.’
‘No. Not bitter. Realistic.’ He waved a gloved hand. ‘Oh, because no one likes to think of themselves as a despot they will cloak their actions in high-sounding rhetoric. Announce that he — or she — sees the situation more clearly. That everyone will thank them in the end. That it is for the better. And so on.’
She eyed him where he walked next to her, hands on the hafts of his weapons, his gaze somewhere else. The Sea of Vitr glimmered ahead. Lazy waves came hissing up the black scoured strand. ‘You
Beneath his moustache the man’s lips curled up in a rueful smile. ‘The curse of an unflinching eye.’ He froze. ‘And here comes the test.’
Kiska glanced over and tensed. It was the big demon hurrying up to them on its broad ungainly bird’s feet. It stopped a short distance off, glowered down at them. ‘You are out,’ it growled after a time.
Kiska decided to forgo any sarcastic response. She levelled her stave before her. ‘Yes.’
It looked over them to the cliff face. ‘I disapprove. But it is their decision.’ It held out an amber-taloned hand and clenched it as if crushing them within. ‘If you hurt anyone you will answer to me.’ And it stalked off.
Kiska caught Leoman’s bemused gaze. ‘And what do you say to that?’
He stroked his moustache, frowning thoughtfully. ‘I would say this place seems to have rules of its own.’
She could not argue with that.
CHAPTER V
What is the Deck of Dragons
But where one bends to look
For reflections
Of all things unseen?
Spindle could not sleep after he and Blend and Picker dragged themselves back to K’rul’s bar. It was dawn in any case, and his nerves were shot. They’d witnessed something they shouldn’t have; they all knew it. No one said a thing all the way back from the base of Majesty Hill — which wasn’t very far in any case, as K’rul’s old temple stood on its own hill in the estate district.
Blend and Picker thumped up the stairs to their room. Spindle slouched into a booth. The common room was empty. The historian was upstairs asleep. After dozing for a short time, Spindle was driven by a full bladder to shamble out of the rear kitchen exit. Facing the yard, looking out over the chicken coop, the woodpile and the pigsty, he untied his trousers and relieved himself in the chill air.
In mid-stream he gaped, jerked, traced a warm stream down his leg, then stumbled back inside, struggling with his trousers.
‘Picker! Blend! Burn’s own tits, would you come and look at this!’
‘Shut up!’ came the muffled response.
‘No, really! This is amazin’! You gotta see this.’
Shambled footsteps sounded from above. Picker’s voice called down: ‘If it’s just you findin’ your little soldier then I’m gonna be real mad.’
‘Ha, ha! No. I’m fucking serious here.’
‘All right, all right.’ Picker appeared, tucking in her shirt and tying her trousers, boots clumping. ‘What is it?’
‘Out back. Take a look.’
‘What? Has Moon’s Spawn returned?’
‘Somethin’ like that.’
Picker sobered, eyed the man, doubtful. She hiked up her trousers and headed to the kitchen. Spindle followed.
At the open doorway Picker stopped, peered right, then left. Behind, Spindle hopped from foot to foot, brushing at his wet pants. ‘Do you see it? Do ya?’
‘What? The amazin’ chickens? They dancin’? Singin’?’
‘No! Not …’ He squeezed his way round her, stared squinting into the distance. ‘But there was …’ He turned back to the big woman, hunched his shoulders. ‘There was this huge dome-like thing there. Over the hilltop …’
Picker just shook her head in a slow heavy dismissal. She rubbed her arm where scars marked a ring round the flesh, eyed the distance once more. Then she pushed him aside, muttering, ‘Fuckin’ moron. Can’t believe I’m beginnin’ to miss Antsy.’
Spindle was left alone in the chill air. He turned back to the view across the hills of the estate district, snorted to himself.
