It was strange, somehow.
I halted about ten yards from this unexpected obstacle, trying to decide what to do next. For had advised me to go across the roofs, but who knew if they would support the weight of a man after all these years? Should I try to slip through? Under the cover of the shadow, pressing close against the wall?
Beyond the silver haze of this strange substance I could see the outline of a human figure. From the height of him, he had to be a giant. His head was level with the roofs of the single-story houses.
As far as I could tell, what I could see up ahead had to be the statue of Sagot.
I had already lifted one foot in order to go over to the wall and slip past the little cloud when I was stopped by that sharp voice ringing out in my head again:
“Stop! Don’t move, if you value your life!”
Harold is an obedient lad, and I froze as still as a scarecrow in a village vegetable garden. It was only a few agonized heartbeats later that I realized the archmagician had come back again and it was his voice. I was about to tell Valder exactly what I thought of him, but before I could, he barked: “Quiet! Not a sound! That rabid beast is blind, but there’s nothing wrong with its hearing! Speak in thoughts, I can hear you perfectly well.”
“You promised to leave me alone!”
“Then where would you have been? In the jaws of the irilla?”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s what you’re looking at.”
I stared hard at the cloud.
“I read about this creature spawned by the Kronk-a-Mor in the ancient tomes when . . .”—the voice hesitated—“. . . when I was still alive. Irillas are blind, they like deserted places.”
“How do they hunt?” I asked doubtfully. “A blind hunter—that’s something new.”
“I already told you. They have excellent hearing.”
“I think it would have grabbed me ages ago, if everything you say is true,” I thought.
“Don’t deceive yourself. The irilla heard you two hundred yards away. It’s still waiting for you to approach it.”
“It’ll have a long wait. What kind of fool does it take me for? I’ll have to find another way round.”
“As soon as you take a step back, it will attack. You have to deceive it.”
“I wonder how?” I snorted, keeping my eyes fixed on the calmly quivering clump of mist. “And what do you care if it eats me?”
Valder was silent for a long time. “I have been given life again after a long wait in oblivion. Life, and not a gray nothingness from which it is impossible to move into either the darkness or the light. Although I exist in another’s body, where I am regarded as an uninvited guest, that is still better than nothing. Let me fall asleep, I will not hinder you, and perhaps sometimes I will be able to help. Do not drive me out . . .”
“Okay, it’s a deal. You can stay for the time being.” I had come to the conclusion that the archmagician’s help could come in useful after all. “But only until I leave the Forbidden Territory. Agreed?”
“Yes! Thank you.”
“So how do I deceive this blind beast with big ears?”
“Try to pick up a stone and throw it as far away from yourself as you can. And then run.”
Remarkable, a brilliant plan. And I was foolish enough to think I would get really useful advice. Although I supposed I could try it. If I ran fast, I could end up beside the statue of Sagot, and For told me it was absolutely safe there, no evil beast would dare to touch me.
I picked up a small round stone and threw it into the window closest to the mist. The stone flew into the darkness and bounced off the wall, and then the mousetrap snapped shut. The cloud hurtled toward the sudden sound as fast as an arrow fired from an elfin bow and disappeared into the house, and I darted past the dangerous spot as fast as I could run. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that my trick hadn’t been a complete success. The white bundle of mist, looking more like a worm now, was rapidly pouring back out into the street.
And it was clearly intending to play tag with my own humble and frightened personage. I concentrated all my energy into a wild gallop.
“Faster!” Valder advised me, entirely unnecessarily.
I collapsed beside the granite pedestal and watched as the worm that was pursuing me, as crazed with hunger as a starving gkhol, gave out a melodic crystalline note and shattered into a thousand tiny shreds that burned up in the air with a crimson flame.
Well now, my teacher For was right, as always. Sagot’s statue really is a safe spot.
I got up off the ground, brushed the dust and small pieces of rubbish off my jacket and trousers, and turned round to see the face of my god at long last.
I gasped in amazement.
The ancient artist had done a really good job in depicting the patron god of thieves. Sagot was sitting on a granite pedestal with his legs crossed, wearing boots on his feet. He looked very slightly tired, like a traveler who has finally completed a long journey. He had elegant hands with slim fingers—they looked too young for a forty- year-old man.
The pointed nose, high forehead, slight stubble on the cheeks, cunning eyes and smile were equally suitable for an old man made wise by experience, or a mischievous boy.
