“The lads will kill her.”
“They'll be back soon.”
Again that laughter, high pitched. “The cats will conquer!”
Melcorka stopped outside a plain wooden door, ensuring the voices came from within. Pushing open the door, Melcorka entered and three men turned to face her, three men with shocked faces, two with painted cat-faces and one with no disguise – three men who were sitting around a circular table. She killed the first cat-warrior as he reached for a knife, killed the second as he slashed at her with the steel talons, and held Defender to the throat of the third man. Two bodies slumped to the floor as blood spread over the flagstones. The whole affair had taken less than five seconds.
“I want to talk to you.” Melcorka kicked the door closed behind her. “Place these bodies against the door.” She jabbed the man with Defender until he obeyed. He was the smallest of the three, a man in his thirties with prematurely receding hair and a nervous twitch. Melcorka guessed that he was the owner of the high-pitched laugh.
“You are no warrior, are you?”
The man shook his head so violently that Melcorka feared it might fall off.
“What are you?”
“I'm the clerk.” The man gabbled. “I keep the accounts.”
“Oh, good.” Withdrawing her sword point, Melcorka sat opposite the clerk. She gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile. “You will know all that happens in this place?”
“I know some of it,” the clerk said.
“Good. I have questions for you.” Melcorka did not drop her smile. “Will you help me?”
The clerk glanced at the bodies of his companions lying stark dead on the floor. Sweat formed a sheen on his forehead. “Yes,” he said, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I'll help you.”
“I thought you looked like a sensible man,” Melcorka said. “That's why I did not kill you. I am looking for Chattan, the man responsible for the death of Bradan the Wanderer, and I am looking for the Lord of Dun Dreggan.”
The clerk shivered. “They'll kill me if I tell you.”
“Quite possibly,” Melcorka said. “And I will kill you if you don't. The choice is yours.”
“I can't,” the clerk said.
“As you wish,” Melcorka examined the claws she had attached to her left hand. “How do these things work? Do I claw you to death, as a cat would? Or do I use them like needles and thrust them inside you.”
The clerk backed away, shaking his head.
“It's a difficult choice, isn't it?” Melcorka said. She leaned closer to him, so her face was nearly touching his. “Bradan was more than a friend to me,” she said. “He was my man. Tell me where I can find Chattan.” She drew the claws across the top of the table, making deep grooves in the wood. “Where is he?”
“Down below.” The clerk could not take his gaze from Melcorka”s claws. “Chattan is the cat master. He looks after them.”
“Where down below?” Melcorka asked.
“The lowest level.”
“Thank you,” Melcorka said. As the clerk nodded, she hit him once on the point of his jaw, knocking him unconscious. “I'll get the Lord of Dun Dreggan later.” Melcorka knew that she should hunt for the Book of Black Earth, but the death of Bradan had altered her priorities. She was aware that anger and grief distorted her reasoning, but at that moment, she did not care – the Cu-saeng and Erik Egilsson could wait until she was ready to deal with them.
Slipping out of the room, Melcorka continued her descent. Twice she passed arrow slits where grey light seeped in, showing that another day had dawned, and then she was past that level and there was only bare stone on either side as the stairs spiralled downwards into blackness.
Something was different – something had changed. Melcorka stopped to look around. The darkness was the same; the steps were the same underfoot. It was the smell that had altered, and the walls. Putting out an exploratory hand, she touched the wall. It was smooth, too smooth to be stone or rock. The feel was familiar, but from where she could not say.
Melcorka had been aware of the sound for some time, yet only when she stopped was she able to analyse it. It was the howling of cats, many cats, and it was increasing as she descended. What was Chattan's title? Master of the Cats? That might be significant. Knowing that Defender would not kill in revenge, Melcorka slid the sword back in her sheath to free both hands, readied her claws and stepped onward. The ground beneath her feet altered; it was no longer stone but the same smooth substance as the walls, while she had reached the end of the steps and stood on a level surface.
A thin slit of light showed at feet level; the opening beneath a door and the sound of cats increased, yowling and howling as if they expected food. Melcorka moved to the door, precisely as somebody on the other side pushed it open.
“You!”
Chattan stared at her, his face working, his eyes more yellow than ever. “You should be dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Not yet.” Melcorka had to fight the rage that urged her to charge forward and rip Chattan to bloody gobbets.
Light from beyond the door illuminated the corridor, allowing Melcorka to see her surroundings. She stood on white bone, while the walls around her were the same. She remembered that this was a house built on human bones, so she was surrounded by hundreds of human remains, with skulls grinning at her, vertebrae, shin bones and femurs making up the walls and ceiling.
“Dear God, what level of evil have I come to?” Stepping forward, she pushed Chattan before her and immediately wished she had not.
The door opened into a large room made entirely of bones. In the centre, sunk into a deep pit, scores of cats circled and howled, raising clawed paws toward Chattan, who had
