had been right and all this was a warped perception brought on by some outside force using drugs or deep hypnotism, for whatever reason. As this thought entered his head, he was convinced he heard the throb of machines and the hubbub of men's voices through one of the doors; it troubled him inexplicably and he chose to hurry on.
Further on, the corridors took on a different appearance, so that it was no longer obvious he was on board a ship. It might have happened so gradually he didn't notice it, or in the blink of an eye, but suddenly the walls were in part limestone, in others, rough-hewn timbers, peppered with holes of varying sizes. It smelled differently, too. The saltiness that had permeated everything had been replaced by a faintly sulphurous odour of dust. The heavy echoes of his tread had taken the place of the constant creaking, nor was he even aware of the ship's rocking. Other sounds were more prevalent now, through the walls or further along the corridor: movement, fast and light like the scurrying of vermin, or slow and laboured as if enormous creatures were shifting slowly.
He was startled at one point by the sound of small feet near to his ear. He turned sharply to see a blur passing quickly across a hole in the wall at head height. One of the Portunes, he guessed, spying on him. The little people were everywhere, the eyes and ears of the ship. But why were they always watching? What did it benefit them?
As the atmosphere became less like that onboard ship, the more the air of tension rose; it was enough to warn Church he had moved into an area of more immediate danger, rather than the general background threat of the upper decks. There was a quality to it that made him queasy. His palms grew slick around the handle of the sword, his knuckles aching from holding it.
His eyes, by now well accustomed to the gloom, felt sore from continually probing the shadows ahead; so much that at first he thought the flickering shapes he occasionally glimpsed were just the tremors of an over- worked eye muscle. But gradually he came to realise there were things moving just beyond the light of the now- intermittent torches, darting around corners at the last moment. He was sure they weren't the Malignos; as Ruth had described them, they would not be so restrained. It could, of course, be Callow, playing some sneaky little game, waiting for just the right moment to attack. But still-
Church almost jumped out of his skin when a hand protruded from an unnoticed branching corridor to his left, reaching for his arm. It was just a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, but he was whirling instantly, lashing out with the sword. His reactions were perfect, but the hand became a blur of golden lightning. Before Church had time to launch another attack, Baccharus stepped out sharply, motioning for Church to remain silent.
Church's angry face passed on all the fury of the curses he wanted to yell out at Baccharus's unthinking approach, but Baccharus, as usual, was oblivious. They hurried several yards along the branching corridor until Baccharus turned and said bluntly, 'You must turn back.'
'I'm starting to worry about you, Baccharus,' Church snapped. 'Do you spend all your time hanging around down here? You know, is it the Tuatha De Danann equivalent of the street corner where the furtively smoking teenagers hang out? Or do you just wait in the shadows until Ruth or I come along?'
Baccharus gave several long, slow blinks while staring into Church's eyes. Eventually he said, 'You must-'
'Yes, yes, I know. Turn back. I know it's not a saunter through Covent Garden-'
'You do not realise the extent of the danger.'
Church sighed, running his fingers through his long hair. 'Baccharus, I really do appreciate you looking out for me. It's such a rare trait in your kind I'd be a fool not to recognise it. But this is something I have to do. There's so much at stake here for all… all the Fragile Creatures. And at the moment only Ruth and I can do something about it. I wish someone else was having to do the business, but that's not the way it is.'
Baccharus's stare was still intense. 'How does your journey here, in the depths, bear upon your mission?'
The question was curious, the fact that Baccharus was asking it more so. 'How did you know I'd be here anyway? Have you been spying on me?'
Baccharus appeared a little taken aback by the question, but not hurt or irri- rated; the emotions of the Tuatha De Danann were so difficult to read he might simply have had no idea what Church was talking about.
Church thought a moment. 'The Portunes. Running through the walls. That one was with you when you saved Ruth. So why are you particularly interested in us?'
Baccharus, in his usual honest manner, did not attempt to bat it away. 'A long story.'
'And when we get back topside you're going to tell me. But right now-'
'You must not continue. The danger is out of control. The Malignos are preparing for something unpleasant. Your fellow Fragile Creature, the one tainted by the Night Walkers-'
'Callow.'
'— he has whispered secrets to them, given them guidance. My associates are searching for them now, but they can wrap the night around them.'
Something was jangling deep in Church's head. 'Your associates? Why isn't Manannan doing something about this if it's such a threat?'
Baccharus didn't answer.
'What's going on here, Baccharus? The five of us, the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, we've been run like rats and had our lives ruined by your people. I'm not having any more of it. I feel like some massive thing has been going on all the time we've been on this ship, but Ruth and I have seen only a tiny part of it. Used when your people feel it suits their needs. Ignored or barely tolerated the rest of the time.'
'No.' Baccharus's voice was firm. 'If you knew the truth, you would not say that.'
Church searched his face; something sharply human hung there, something few of the other Golden Ones carried. A faint sound echoed nearby. Church glanced over his shoulder. 'This isn't the time. I have to find the Walpurgis.'
'I will take you to him.'
Church's attention snapped back. 'You know where he is?'
'If it will prevent you blundering into the areas of greatest peril, I will accede to your request.' He strode out along the branching corridor, then turned right down another branch that Church hadn't noticed. Church was rooted for a second, but then he skipped into step behind the hurrying god.
Church lost track of how many junctions they came up on, and the constant branching made his head spin. When he had set off below deck, the corridor had stretched on and on with no other side route, but Baccharus found a myriad, lurking in shadows, or disguised as hanging drapes. At first Church fired numer ous questions, but when the god refused to answer any of them, Church fell into a steady silence, trying to make some sense of his topsy- turvy thoughts.
Eventually Baccharus came to a halt before a stretch of corridor that was lit more brightly than most of the others. The wall in this area was of wooden timbers, uneven and nondescript. He rested one hand on it, fingers splayed, bowed his head and muttered something under his breath. The wall became like the running water of a waterfall. Baccharus strode through it. Church jumped behind him, expecting to get soaked, but it felt like the overhead hot air heaters some shops treat their customers to on a wet winter's day.
On the other side was a large chamber, comfortably fitted out with thick rugs, heavy tapestries on the polished wood walls, chairs and tables bearing a few half-filled goblets and trays of dried fruit and nuts. Several figures were scattered around. They broke off from what appeared to be intense conversation to stare at him. There were a few members of the Tuatha De Danann Church recognised by sight, but whose names he didn't know, a smattering of Portunes scurrying around like mice, and one or two of the odd figures he had glimpsed at the banquet. At his gaze, these moved back into the shadows where the torches did not reach.
'What's going on here?' he asked suspiciously. His hand moved towards his sword as the half thought entered his head that Baccharus might have led him into a trap.
'We are all friends here.' Marik Bocat squatted on the back of a chair, shouting, although his voice sounded barely more than a whisper.
'Then why are you hiding away?'
'The situation is complex,' Baccharus said. 'Perhaps it is time to unveil it to you.' He turned to the others. 'This is Jack, Brother of Dragons.' All those who had not been introduced to Church before bowed their heads.
'Maybe later.' Church walked to the centre of the room and looked around. 'First, I want to talk to the Walpurgis.'
