and violent one.'
'What happened to the Hungry Death?'
'You know. Close your eyes, and you know.' I do nothing of the sort, just stare at her. She blinks.
'I don't blame you,' Suzanne says. 'When I tell you there were thirteen warriors who went to battle with it, do you start to get the idea?'
I stare at her, dumbfounded.
She sighs. 'OK. Thirteen warriors. They fought the Hungry Death, and what a battle it was, fire and brimstone, storm and earthquake. All of that, real 'Book of Revelations' stuff. They fought it. And they defeated it. Six times. And each time it came back. They cut it into pieces. And it came back. They ground its marrow to dust and it came back. They even ground its marrow to dust and turned it into some sort of paste, and yet it did no good.
'Finally a seventh, desperate battle. And this time, the earth a wasteland about them, the world a wound and the dying everywhere, they had begun to question why they had even tried fighting it in the first place. They held that Hungry Death down and this time they devoured it. Thirteen warriors, and each of them absorbed one- thirteenth of the Hungry Death's essence. And it has stayed that way through time.
'You see, it was never truly vanquished. Death cannot be. The Hungry Death lives on in each of the Orcus. It is our power, and the thing which each of us fear. That is what you dream about, Steven. Death untrammelled, blood and knives and the scythe. We all dream these dreams. It is why we don't need to sleep – its power sustains us – and why we don't want to.'
I blink. 'So I somehow ingested a thirteenth of the Hungry Death?'
'Absorbed is perhaps the better term. The Negotiation, why do you think it is so brutal? To become an RM you must appease the Hungry Death, blood must flow, and it is the only way to draw it out of a previous RM. And once it's within you… Surely you have felt it there? Not just in the dreams. Don't you sometimes feel its delight in death and destruction? It's the Hungry Death that makes it easier for you to deal with the things that you must see and do. And through you, it makes it easier on your Pomps.'
'So what's the All-Death? It spoke to me, and not just in a dream.'
'It's an aspect of the Hungry Death, too. We use it, of course, to generate the schedule, because it exists outside of time. Through it we know who is to die and when. It knows so much, and bereft of the Hungry Death, it is relatively benign.'
'It didn't feel benign when it grabbed me.'
'I said relatively. It remains a part of the Hungry Death.'
'So what was it, this thing in me before it became the Hungry Death?'
'Something like the Stirrer god, perhaps. We don't know. This all happened a very long time ago. Generations before even the oldest RM, before even the invention of writing.'
'And all it wants is death?'
'Yes, but not in the way that the Stirrers do. Which makes me believe it really isn't like them. You must be able to feel it, the pure joy it takes in death. Stirrers wish an end to life, this needs life to sustain it. I know you feel it.'
Yes, I do. Why wasn't I told about this earlier? Mr D with his all-in-good-time. My dreams have been such a horrible space, not least because of the pleasure I find in them.
'To think of such a cruel thing in here,' I tap my chest.
Suzanne pulls my hand away. 'You mustn't think that. It isn't cruel, merely inventive. Couple that with a clever and cruel creature like Homo sapiens and you have all sorts of madness, all sorts of ways of killing.' Suzanne's eyes gleam. 'It is better that it exists inside us, spread across the world, and that it is only fed every few generations in a Schism and a Negotiation. Think of the ruthlessness that we forestall with our existence. Our world, our myriad of societies, exist merely because we have given people time. We have given them the space to live longer, to develop culture and technology. Death remains, as does genocide and madness, but it is not all encompassing.'
I remember my Negotiation. The Orcus gathered around Morrigan and me in a circle, the hunger in their eyes. I now know where most of that came from. Come the next Negotiation will I look that way, too?
'So I rule the land and the sea around Australia as Death, because once there were warriors and they killed Death itself.'
'No, you cannot kill Death, only shape its form. And no, you do not rule the sea.'
'Why hasn't Mr D explained this? Gaps, gaps! I've got so many bloody gaps in my knowledge. What does, then?'
'Water, and the force within it. We've made our agreements with that force to cross the seas. But we have no power there. It does with those souls who die within its substance what it will. I hope that you'll never have to deal with it. Water is a cruel negotiator.' Suzanne shivers. 'And that is your lesson for today. The Stirrer god is powerful. But there is a power within us, too. The secret is to use that power without destroying everything those first warriors fought for.'
'And how do we do that?'
'I have a plan.' Suzanne puts a finger against my lips. 'But that is for another time.' I'm still thinking about plans, and Deaths of the sea, when I shift back to my office. Right on target. Tim obviously senses my return because he gives a ragged cheer from his office.
There's a message on my phone. Lissa.
'Call me, babe, when you get the chance.'
I dial her number. She answers before the first ring.
'That was quick,' I say.
'I was just about to call you again. Where have you been?'
I mumble something about Death Moot prep, feel a pang of guilt. If only she knew. Maybe I should just tell her about the deal with Suzanne now.
'Steven, we may have a problem. Actually there's no may about it.'
'What is it?'
'Stirrers. Something new. I suppose you could call it a nest of them. I need you to come here.'
'A nest? Why the hell can't we feel them?'
She gives me an address in Woolloongabba. It's a couple of suburbs south of the city. About ten minutes' drive away if the traffic isn't too bad.
I look at the schedule. There's no one spare. Besides Lissa and I should be able to handle them. I hesitate to shift there. If I can sense a shift they may be able to as well.
Oscar's standing outside my office door. I open it and he looks at me. 'Going to need your help – and Travis's.'
'Not a problem.'
'How fast can you drive that Hummer of yours?'
Oscar gives me one of the biggest, maddest grins I have ever seen.
21
I don't expect to see Alex, but he's there with Lissa. Both of them look pretty grim.
There's no small talk. Lissa leads us up onto a flat rooftop above Vulture Street, a major tributary to the M1, the motorway that feeds into and out of the city. The traffic is building rapidly.
The Stirrers below us move with a confidence that only comes from inhabiting a body for weeks. They're sitting on the front verandah of the house, drinking what look like stubbies of beer. The house could be like any other in the suburb, or Brisbane, for that matter. It's a classic Queenslander, verandahs all around, tin roof. Very much like my parents' place. But this one has known better days; the paint's peeling so badly that we can see it from here. There's a pile of rubbish in the backyard, but that's common enough. The only odd thing about it is the roof – it's crammed with aerials, peculiar prickly bunches of them. What the hell do they need those for?
We're across the river from the city centre. I can feel Number Four, and just down the road is the Gabba
