illness. It was a curse from the Gods of the very worst kind. It could not be fought or beaten. It could only be endured.
The soulless wake caused people to forget their loved ones, forget life, forget themselves. It stripped them of everything they were inside. It was said to be the result of the Gods prematurely taking away a person’s soul whilst they were still living, leaving nothing but an empty, wandering shell-of-a-person. This wasn’t true, Lex knew. If it were, then you wouldn’t be able to catch those occasional glimpses, those tiny little moments, of the person they had been before. But it was certainly true that the disease carried a stigma. For the condition was a rare one and it was said that the Gods would surely not curse anyone in such a way unless that person was immensely vile and despicable.
‘You wouldn’t think it to look at him, would you?’ Schmidt said softly. ‘The kind manner he has with the clients and… the interns.’ He gave Lex an evil look. ‘The way he left her to rush out of his home in the middle of the night to assist you and vouch for your character. You would never have guessed, Lex, would you?’
‘Of course I knew about her condition,’ Lex lied. ‘As you rightly pointed out, I know everything about everything. A conman has to, you know. I didn’t see how the issue could benefit me personally but I consigned it to the back of my mind, just in case.’
He almost wanted the lawyer to strike him. Mr Schmidt didn’t raise a finger, although, if looks could kill, someone would have had to use a bucket and shovel to scrape Lex off the floor.
‘You know, Lex, I think I’m going to go have a lie down in the wagon,’ Schmidt said, with exaggerated courtesy. ‘I’m not as young as I once was, after all, and you seem to be handling the mantha so expertly.’
Lex frowned as the lawyer swung his long legs round, pulled back the curtain and clambered into the warmth of the wagon. Lex caught a glimpse of the interior before the curtain fell back. There were blankets back there, piled up on flat wooden beds. Gods, it looked tempting! Lex hadn’t slept properly since fleeing the Wither City. The gypsy ship had been moving too much on the restless waves and he had kept jerking awake.
Now that the lawyer had gone, Lex realised that he had been left outside to drive the mantha alone through Gertha’s savage gales. It hadn’t seemed so bad when they were plodding through the winding streets with tall, crooked buildings piled up on top of one another on each side of them to block the wind. But out here in the open, the gales were painfully chafing.
Lex pulled back the curtain of the wagon slightly and turned his head to yell inside, ‘Pass me a blanket would you, Monty? It’s a little chilly out here.’
‘Here,’ Mr Schmidt said, throwing out the thinnest, most moth-eaten blanket there was.
Really it was more a bit of rag than a blanket. Lex stared at the thing in disgust but let the curtain drop. He wasn’t going to beg, if that was what the lawyer wanted. He would rather die before asking any favours of the man. Well… okay, perhaps not actually die but.. well, he would rather be really quite uncomfortable, anyway.
Lex was a hoarder when it came to money, so he had quite happily stood by and let Schmidt purchase the wagon and the blankets. Now it didn’t seem like such a good idea. He had no right to the blankets now and the lawyer had made it quite clear that he was not in a sharing mood.
‘Selfish sod,’ Lex muttered.
As is a common characteristic with the selfish, Lex simply couldn’t stand selfishness in others. The mantha beast plodded solidly on as the sky began to dim to twilight and Lex tried not to think about the soulless wake. When they at last arrived on the outskirts of Gandylow, the boats were all moored in the docks for the night, so they took a couple of rooms at a boarding house with the idea of seeking passage on a ship in the morning.
They ignored each other over dinner and went to their separate rooms afterwards. As he fell asleep, Lex vowed not to think about the soulless wake any more, or the person he had left behind at the farm back home, and promised himself that all his energy would be put into playing the Game.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lex’s definition of a boat was something that travelled on water. The magical boats of the enchanters then, strictly speaking, were not in fact boats, for they hovered above the sea rather than floating on its surface. They were quite different from the gypsy ships. Being propelled by magic instead of wind they could sail against the currents. They could glide above the treacherous coral reefs. And they could keep right on travelling once they hit dry land if they wanted to.
When they reached the docks that morning Schmidt again voiced concerns as to whether they would be able to find an enchanter willing to take them. They rarely took passengers since they had no need for paying customers and it was unheard of for an enchanter to allow non-magical people on board his boat.
‘You’d be amazed at the endless supply of luck I seem to have,’ Lex had said with his most insolent smile.
Schmidt had simply shrugged his bony shoulders. ‘Then I will leave you to it, Mr Trent. You’ll find out it’s hopeless quickly enough.’
There were always enchanted boats at Gandylow as it was the nearest port to the Island of Algathon — the native land of the enchanters and their crones. Khestrii was situated on the western shore of the island and, although there were some humans living there, on the whole people preferred not to live so close to enchanters. There were five enchanted boats in the harbour that day — great, silver monstrosities with black runes painted across their metallic exteriors. Even the sails were thin sheets of metal, being there solely for decoration since the wind certainly didn’t dictate the places these ships went.
Lex stood looking at the five great ships, wondering how best to go about stealing one. For Schmidt was quite right in saying that buying passage would be hopeless. There was no way an enchanter was simply going to allow them to come aboard his precious ship. It was strictly forbidden for any non-magical person to board the boats. Lex had always wanted to steal something from an enchanter. Some little trinket, just for the dangerous thrill of brushing so close to something so powerful. But this wasn’t some little trinket. It was a huge, hulking monster of a ship and stealing it would not be so easy.
Lex eyed the staff of a nearby enchanter warily. It was as tall as the wizard himself, made out of twisted metal and set with a blue star-crystal at the top. The staffs were the centre of all the enchanters’ powers and it was said that they could turn a man inside out if they wanted to, just by pointing at him with their horrible sticks. Lex grinned as Schmidt caught sight of the enchanter and hurriedly turned away, pretending to inspect a shut-up stall to avoid having to look directly at the magician.
But Lex wasn’t afraid and remained where he was. As divine luck would have it, his dilemma was solved for him, for whilst he stood musing over the problem of the boats, he happened to overhear the conversation that took place between the nearby enchanter and his crone.
‘It will be your responsibility to guard the ship until I return,’ the enchanter said.
Lex’s ears pricked up at that. He eyed the old crone with dubious glee. She hardly looked capable of guarding anything. She was hunched over the usual pair of sticks, her gnarled old hands shaking on them slightly, and she was bent almost double under the weight of the slim grey cat that was draped languidly about her shoulders.
‘I will be gone for seven days and nights. You will stay on the ship. Do not leave it for anything. Not for anything, you understand?’ he snapped, leaning a little closer to the old woman. ‘Do not fail me again, Bessa. If anyone inquires as to the ship’s prolonged presence here, you may tell them that I will return shortly and that the boat is not to be touched by anybody until then, not even the maritime authorities. I won’t have any non-magical people on board my ship.’
The crone nodded and grovelled to the wizard, assuring him all the while of her eternal and undying devotion. Lex chuckled with glee. It really was too easy. The old woman would go over like a house of cards.
‘What are you sniggering at?’ Schmidt said sharply, without looking away from the stall.
Lex ignored him. Of course, the crones were often left behind to look after the ships. It wasn’t as if anyone was actually going to try and steal them. Such an action would have been reckless beyond words. Lex watched the old crone hobble painfully up the gangplank back on board the huge, gleaming silver ship. It was not touching the water, even here in the harbour. It hovered unnaturally, just above the sea, secured by ropes to the docks, drifting
