Orb Sceptre Throne

Kruppe sat up, straightened his crimson waistcoat. ‘I remove my own dents, thank you very much. And I do not understand why anyone would wear iron shoes. Fashion does drive us to awkward choices, however, does it not? I will send a carriage. In the meantime, here are some papers that have recently come into my care.’ He laid a folded packet on the table. ‘Now I must take this opportunity to escape before even greater demands are made, terms raised, or outrageous conditions imposed — squash or no squash! Good day!’ He threw his chin high and marched out.

Barathol eyed the packet for some time before letting out another breath and uncrossing his arms. He broke the wax seal and scanned the papers. He couldn’t read them but they certainly looked official. They might be a title. Or a bordello’s taxation report. He couldn’t tell. He’d have to take them to the scribe on the corner who wrote letters for everyone in the neighbourhood.

He tapped them against the table and eyed the door to the rear yard. He’d have to be damned quiet about it. He slipped the papers into his shirt.

So it had come to this. All her struggle. Her long journey. Failure. Abject loathsome failure once again. She leaned on her staff and ran a hand through her sweaty hair, squinting in the constant stabbing glare of the quicksilver Vitr sea. Twice with the same man. That had got to be some kind of record. She’d let down Agayla — not to mention the Enchantress. And what trouble might come of that? She dreaded to think of the possible consequences.

Yet further options existed. More extreme alternatives. Tayschrenn didn’t even seem to remember he was a mage and so he would pose no trouble. The only hurdle would be the man’s shadow, Korus. And she and Leoman together might be able to handle him. That left those countless little wretches, and for her there lay the problem. They would surely crowd to his defence and she would be forced to strike them down.

And that she could not bring herself to do. It would be like attacking children. She just couldn’t imagine it. Gods! Defeated by my own principles. Well, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The Queen of Dreams could hardly fault her for that. She tapped the butt of the staff in the black sands, then swung it up over her shoulders and went to find Leoman.

He was asleep, curled up on his side. Just like a boy. How does he do that? Sleep so soundly? It’s like he’s at peace. An idea that jarred against what she knew of the man. She tapped his foot and he jerked, then stretched and blinked up at her. ‘Yes?’

‘All right. You win.’

He leaned up on one elbow and arched a brow. ‘Win? Me?’

‘Yes. There’s no point in staying. We should go.’

He stood and brushed at his clothes, picked up his armour, threw his belted morningstars over a shoulder. ‘So. You’re going,’ he said.

‘Me? What do you mean me?’ She motioned to the shore. ‘Might as well say goodbye.’

‘Yes.’

On the way to the sea Leoman said, ‘You know, I find it very relaxing here. Restful. It reminds me of the deep desert. I always felt comfortable there. It was just the people who occupied it I objected to.’

The moment they drew close to where Tayschrenn stood at the shore, the tribe of shambling malformed creatures he’d rescued from the Vitr gathered around protectively. Giant Korus strode to intercept them on its odd backward-bending legs.

‘What do you intend?’ it demanded.

‘We’ve come to say goodbye,’ Kiska answered. ‘We’re going.’

‘Goodbye? Farewell? You are leaving?’

‘Yes.’

The creature’s finger-long fangs grated like knives as it seemed to consider such a thing. It glanced over to where Tayschrenn was approaching from the glimmering surf. ‘Very well. But I will be watching.’ It lumbered aside.

‘What is it?’ the ex-mage called. ‘I asked you to trouble us no more.’

Kiska bowed. ‘Yes. Just come to say farewell. We are leaving.’

‘I see.’ He pushed back his long grey-shot hair, crossed his arms. It seemed to Kiska that he did appear younger. The harsh lines about his mouth and eyes had eased; gone was the watchfulness and guarded wariness from his gaze. Reborn in truth?

‘Safe journey then,’ he said. ‘I bear you no ill will.’

‘Yes. But perhaps some time from now-’

He’d raised a forestalling hand. ‘No. I will never return to that. Tell whoever sent you to leave me alone.’

‘Yes.’ Kiska struggled against the tightness in her chest. ‘There is just this. I understand this is yours.’ She held out the crumpled stick and cloth remains of their guide.

He took it into his palm and studied the dry bundle of litter. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know exactly — but I was told it belongs to you.’

‘I don’t want …’ His voice fell away as he seemed to lose his concentration.

Korus leaned close, looming over them all. ‘Thenaj — what is this thing? Throw it away!’

But the man’s hands clenched into fists around it, his body convulsing. He would have crashed to the sands but for the creatures easing him down. He curled into a straining knot, shuddering and twitching.

A huge fist closed about Kiska’s cloak and armour from the rear, lifting her from her feet. ‘What is this?’ Korus boomed. ‘What have you done to him?’

Leoman’s gear fell to the sands as he grasped the demon’s arm. ‘We know nothing of this!’ he yelled.

Kiska stared, horrified. Gods! Have I killed him? Was this the Enchantress’s scheme all along?

Then Tayschrenn screamed. He threw his head back and howled his agony. His back arched as if it would snap. He screamed until his breath failed and he fell limp, immobile.

Kiska did not even struggle as the hand swept her spinning through the air. She crashed into the shingle and tumbled over and over, gouging a trail. Then Leoman was there wiping the sand from her face. ‘Are you all right, girl? Speak to me.’

‘I killed him,’ she moaned. ‘Me! It was to be me all along.’

‘We don’t know …’

A large shadow covered them and a voice snarled, ‘Take them to the caves!’

CHAPTER XV

Tyranny remains because the weak and fearful seek it.

Letters of the Philosophical Society. Darujhistan

The Passages Orchid led Antsy and Corien through could only in the coarsest sense be named tunnels. As far into the distance as Antsy could see, the naked rock canopy was intricately carved to imitate a wide forest. Branches glittered with precious stones and gems which had been set as if mimicking berries or flowers. They passed rooms where wrecked furniture carved from rare woods lay like abandoned works of sculpture. Such wood alone would make Antsy wealthy beyond measure. That such riches lay about ignored within these upper reaches of the Spawn told Antsy a great deal about the character of those who occupied the place. After different coin, this lot.

Here Morn met them. He emerged from the gloom and waited as they advanced. At his feet lay a pile of equipment: their gear. Antsy belted his sword and long-knife then shouldered his pannier, all the while eyeing the strange entity. He’d even recovered their food bags. ‘Thanks,’ Antsy said, meaning it. The shade had very probably saved their lives.