“You said that already, Rik, and please close your mouth. The slack-jawed look does not become you.
“It is simply that your statement astonishes me.”
“I can see how it might. But I can assure you that it is the case unless Adaana lied to me, and I doubt she did. Angels rarely speak anything but truth.”
“You closed the Gate.”
“To be more specific, I broke it. I did not want anyone being able to open it again after us.”
“And now you suspect that someone has opened one again.”
“I suspect someone is creating a new one. According to Adaana they took centuries to weave and grow. I did not think anyone else had that knowledge but apparently that was mere vanity on my part. The Princes of Shadow gained access to the knowledge of the Angels when they plundered their Temple-Houses. It was one of the reasons they rebelled in the first place.”
He simply stared at her. Perhaps it was the drugs that stupefied him but he suspected that it was the way she talked of matters of theology as if they were part of her personal affairs. She seemed abstracted, lost in thought.
“I did not think that there was enough power in this world to weave a gate, but if you had access to thanatomancy or rituals derived from it, you could conceivably make the seed and after that it would simply be a matter of shaping it. The trick is to create the fault into the Deep and link it to the Angel’s Roads.”
“You said that with access to a Gate, spells as potent as those on Al’Terra became possible.”
“Yes- power bleeds from the Deep through a Gate, like water flowing up from a spring. One who knows the correct rituals could tap it. For decades now the level of ambient magical energy has been rising. That’s when I had my initial suspicions. I ignored them at first because the level always fluctuates naturally. And I did not want to admit to the alternative. Foolishly, as it turns out.”
“You are saying that with access to such power a sorcerer could create this plague and animate the dead.”
“Yes.”
“And they could open a way through to Al’Terra and let the Princes of Shadow come here.”
“Yes.”
“It could already have happened.”
“I don’t think so. I would be able to sense the presence of a fully open Gate, so would you. So would anyone with a reasonably strong gift for sorcery. It would be as noticeable as the sun is in the sky to a man with eyes. I don’t think the Princes of Shadow are here yet, but I have been known to be wrong.”
“Let us hope you are. What now?”
“We wait for the Inquisitor to summon you and for the Queen to decide whether we march East.”
“How long will that take?”
“Messengers have already been dispatched. We await only her reply. I am guessing a week at the most. If the decision has not already been made.”
The invitation to visit Joran was waiting for Rik when they returned to their apartments. It was delivered by one of the High Inquisitor’s henchmen, verbally. It requested that he pay his respects to Joran at the seventh bell, an hour after sunset. The time seemed ominous, and it gave him some hours to brood before the meeting, which as Asea pointed out, was just what the Inquisitor intended.
In his mind, he ran through all the questions that might arise, ranging from the missing books back in Redtower, to the death of Queen Kathea, to his own Shadowblood heritage. He thought about what he would tell them.
It was best to stick as close to the truth as possible. He had shot Malkior with a truesilver bullet. He knew it was Malkior because he had met the Terrarch in Harven at a reception given by the Council there. By the time he arrived on the scene the Queen and most of her guard were already dead. He and the survivors had managed to take the Terrarch sorcerer down. It was not quite the truth but it was close enough.
He tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong. The Inquisitor might see the mark of the thanatomancer upon him, or already know about his dark deeds. You could never tell quite how much any Terrarch knew and the Inquisition had a legendary array of sources. Perhaps even as he sat here trying to read a book, Weasel and the Barbarian were screaming under the hot irons in the cells below.
He told himself not to be stupid but he could not keep such thoughts from his mind, and they upset the voices and made them whisper and that too made him uneasy. He rose from the chair and started pacing up and down the chamber. Asea looked at him sardonically then went back to her own reading. She could maintain her poise through the end of the world. He feared that he could not.
He wondered whether he should make a run for it, leave the Palace and disappear, try and bury himself in the slums until he could leave the city and make his way back to Sorrow.
If they knew anything about him though, the Inquisition would expect him to do that. He could not head for Harven, the traditional refuge of the runaway human. He knew exactly what sort of reception he would get there, after Asea’s daring escape from the Talorean Embassy.
It was a big world. He ought to be able to lose himself in it. He had some money. He had his weapons. He had the sorcery Asea had taught him. Might it not be better to take his chances? But running would simply confirm their suspicions and give them reason to come looking for him, and it was not certain that they knew anything yet.
Perhaps it would be better to talk with the Inquisitor, find out what he knew and then make a decision. Yes, he thought, and perhaps it might be fatal for him and his friends.
Perhaps it was Asea’s potion, perhaps it was his own moral weakness. He could not make up his mind. He had grown accustomed to the Palace, to Asea’s company, to being someone, and he found himself loath to simply abandon that for the life of a freelance thief and beggar.
He still had not come to a decision when the seventh bell sounded, and there was an ominous knock on the door.
Chapter Six
Two tall white-robed Terrarchs, faces gold-masked, led Rik through the Palace corridors. Four burly black- robed humans accompanied them, and their scarred and pock-marked faces were not masked. Rik could see that their tongues had been torn out. They were mutes of the sort that most conservative Terrarchs still favoured as servants. He doubted they would be able to read or write, but no doubt they could slit a throat or pin down a screaming prisoner with the best of them.
The Terrarchs did not speak to Rik nor did he attempt to start a conversation with them. Soldiers and Palace servants looked away as he passed. Most put their heads down and moved on swiftly, as if he were carrying some contagious disease and they did not want any exposure to it. He could not blame them for that, but it made him feel suddenly alone, in the middle of a Palace filled with people. He forced a smile on to his face. He was simply going to have to rely on his own wits and inner resources and put his faith in the long arm of Asea’s influence.
They made their way into the part of the building that Joran had taken for his people, and began to head down stairs. Rik’s heart sank as they descended, and then rose again just as quickly when he saw they were merely going down a couple of floors and not heading for the cellars. He needed to get a better grip on his emotions, but it was difficult when all control over his circumstances appeared to have slipped from his grasp.
He recalled some of Asea’s words. A sorcerer must be able to control his own mind and his feelings. Often they are the only things that he will have control over, and mastery of the external world flows from mastery of the inner one. He tried to take them to heart as they approached the door of the Inquisitor’s chambers and one of his escorts gave a discrete coded knock.
“Enter,” said the Inquisitor within.
Joran wore no mask. He was dressed in the sort of tunic that the upper echelons of Terrarch society used for less formal meetings. It was white and trimmed with green, the traditional colour of Al’Terra. Discrete golden studs, cast in the shape of an eye, held the collar in place. A golden sash was wound round his waist.
The chamber was luxuriously furnished, and a number of books lined the shelves. A small table stood
