causeways, and in Narkus's harem. Likewise Narkus himself and his three lieutenants, all dead in their quarters.
'Well, Narkslump was scarcely a fortress such as towering Dramstack. And Narkus lorded it — or he had used to — over a mere dribble of men and monsters compared to the greater Lords in their lofty aeries. Even a small invasion force, if its components were stealthy and well ordered, could have infiltrated Narkslump's defences under cover of the storm. But that wasn't the way the survivors in Scarstack and Lurelodge told it.
'According to one of them, a sentry on the night in question:
''The night was dark and overcast; residual rain dripped from roofs, buttresses, causeways, overhangs. I was cold, wet, uncomfortable in my niche. And I admit that I stayed well back, to avoid getting wetter still. But it was also a night of shadows. When I came out one time to scan abroad, I looked down on the lower ramparts where a colleague was keeping watch. Failing to see him, I assumed that he too was avoiding the worst of the drench. But I did see a shadow — or I thought it was a shadow — that flowed swiftly along the walkway and disappeared into a niche, then returned and continued along the ramparts. A stain, a blot on the stone, a shadow, aye… but mobile?
''There again, the clouds were fleeting and there were so many shadows, and I have only a thrall's eyes. A lieutenant's eyes might have been keener, better suited, but lieutenants do not guard the walls. My Lord Stakis's eyes would certainly have noted any weirdness or peculiarity, but he was in his chambers. ' 'When next I looked out and down, my colleague's brazier was out; a hiss of steam rose up; I assumed that there had been more rain, or my friend had been negligent of his fire. And the night was even darker.
' 'My duty station was lit fitfully by twin torches ensconced under slate awnings that fended off the rain. I replenished them with fresh faggots before returning to my niche and snuggling deeper yet. Time passed; perhaps I heard a grunt or call — a gurgled cry? — from the north flank. But in any case I ventured out again, to the northernmost point of my picket, where I leaned from an embrasure to look down on the adjacent flank. In the misted gloom of a landing bay, there was no watchman to be seen, but the steam of his extinguished brazier rose up!
' 'It was time I made report. But only recently recruited, my vampire skills were weak; I was not yet linked to my master. If I cried out with my mind alone, Lord Stakis would not 'hear' my alert, and deep within the rock he couldn't possibly hear my voice. Wherefore a dilemma: should I desert my position and go to the Lieutenant of the Watch, who I knew to be a very difficult man? And if I did, and nothing was found amiss, what then?
' 'I leaned out again and looked down… and at once drew back! For traversing the scarp directly below me — coming diagonally upwards across the treacherous, rain-slick face of the rock and scarcely pausing to negotiate the way — I had spied a lumpy shadow like a dark blot against the lesser darkness. But did I say dark? The shadow was block! And where it merged with other shadows it disappeared completely, only
to emerge a moment later, always climbing towards my battlements station.
' 'Now I knew to run and make report — or at least to run, if nothing else! But already the shadow was stretching itself, groping like the fingers of some phantom hand towards the merlons between myself and the entrance to Narkslump's east wing. Even if I ran this unknown thing would be there first, perhaps waiting for me. Neither was there any other route of entry — nor of escape — from my position on the outer face.
' 'Now, I am not a man to shrink from any normal darkness. Murky gloamings and the weird nebulosities of Sunside bogs had never frightened me. But this was no ordinary shadow. There was something sinister, knowing, clever, about it; it moved as on a mission, and in my heart I knew I couldn't stop it. Only let me try… it would certainly stop me! But as yet it didn't even know that I was there. Or at least, I hoped that was the case.
' 'And as quietly as possible I crept into my niche, drew as far back as I could go among the spiders and beetles — then farther yet until the sharp rock of the split scraped my chest and my back — and finally held still, so very still, there in the dark and the dust.
' 'And eventually something came.
' 'Do not ask me what it was, but it came and was a part of the darkness. And while I couldn't see it, I knew it was there. Then—'
''Indeed I am here!' A voice came to me like the rustle of leaves, so close I felt the breath of it! And it continued: 'I see you are afraid, and that is good. Be afraid, my friend, and make no outcry. Stay here for long and long in this tight crevice, while I go about my business, and I won't harm you. But if you come out… ah, that would be a brief but very unfortunate affair. So then, do we have an understanding?'
''I could only nod, and though I saw nothing at all, still the shadow saw me. 'Good,' it husked, and spoke no more.
' 'Then I was alone again — and pleased to be alone — for long and long…
''… How long I cannot say. But when I dared to come out I saw that my torches were expired, and looking closer I saw they had been capped — put out — deliberately. And not only my torches but all the lights in Narkslump, till tip to toe the aerie stood in darkness most utter.
''Then when I went inside I found what I found, and discovered the hidy-holes of a handful of others with tales to tell much like my own. Following which… can you blame us that we fled that haunted place, and came with all dispatch here…?'
'That was the thrall's story, and the other survivors with him agreed with everything he said. But survivors of what?'
Since the answer to Korath Mindsthrall's final question was obvious, a reply seemed unnecessary. But Harry Keogh answered him anyway, saying, Survivors of Lord Szwart, of course.
Harry's words — more definite, decisive in Jake Cutter's mind — startled him from the reverie induced by Korath's narrative; from what had seemed like a dream within a dream, where everything that the ex-vampire lieutenant described had seemed as real as if Jake himself had been there, in another time and another world. And:
'What? Where?' Jake gave himself a shake. And looking all about he saw debris: the buckled stanchions and shattered concrete slabs fallen from the ceiling, the partly-gleaming, scorch-scarred rim of the monitor conduit rising from the sullen swirl of dark waters. That was where this fragment of the history of a vampire world had its origin: that ugly pipe where Korath had died the true death, which still contained his bones, sloughed clean and washed white by the water. And Jake shuddered.
Harry sensed his unease, and asked, Are you all right?
'No,' Jake answered. 'And I don't think I'll ever be all right again.'
You will lie, the other told him. You have to be. Anyway, we still aren't through here. I want to know more about Szwart — what he is and how he came to be — and I think Korath knows it all. But I sense that he's slowing up, holding back
To which Korath immediately replied, And you are correct! For it dawns on me that I do myself no good here. When you have learned your fill, what then of me? No forgiveness, shunned by the living and the dead alike, washed away to nothing and dispersed across an alien land? Hah! Surely I can do better.
You are dead, said Harry. These things are what happen to the dead, in circumstances such as yours.
And Korath answered, Ah, cold, cold!
No, said Harry, not entirely. Merely truthful. I won't lie to you that there's anything in this for you. Only our company, for however long it lasts.
But Korath said:
Yet your dead converse! I know, for I have heard them whispering in their graves. When they sense me listening, then they keep quiet or exclude me. So why can't they converse with me?
They don't like you, said Harry. Can you blame them? Being dead, they hate death. And they know that you thrived on it! -
I did what vampires do. Is there no pity?
For you, none.
Then I have none for you! Korath sulked. You dare to go up against Vavara, Szwart, Malinari? Without knowing all there is to know about them? Good luck to you. You are dead men and may think of me again some time, when you lie broken or drained, or minced into warrior feed. Then perhaps you'll wish we had spoken at greater length, but too late. Until that time you'll hear no more from me. He fell silent. But:
You have no idea how weary I am of all your bluff and bluster, Harry told him. What do you expect of me? What can I possibly do for you? You are dead, Korath!
