At Asea’s command men opened the mouth of the gasbag. The elemental moved closer and hot air began to fill it. One by one, more salamanders exited the flask. One by one, the gasbags rose. Asea ordered the men to hold them down.
Sardec turned to Weasel and the Barbarian. “It’s a pity about Ambassador Valefor’s accident,” he said.
“Accident, sir?” said Weasel.
“The way he fell from the balloons when we were trying to escape.”
“Right you are, sir,” said Weasel. “I shall go and fetch him.”
“Don’t kill him,” Asea said. “He may be innocent, and even if he is not, we don’t have the time. Get aboard. If need be, I will deal with Valefor later.”
Her tone told them that a quick clean death might be better for him if he had betrayed them. Asea’s vengeance would not be pretty.
Vengeance is good, the voices in Rik’s head whispered.
The balloon lurched skyward. The courtyard of the embassy receded below them. Soon they were drifting above the cities red-tiled roofs, getting higher with every heartbeat. Sardec clutched the wickerwork of the basket with his hook and stared down. It looked like they had taken off none too soon.
Coming up the street towards the embassy he could see a large body of men. By the light of their glowstone lanterns he could see that they numbered in the hundreds and were armed with muskets. A quick calculation told Sardec that they were most likely out of range now, which was good, because he shuddered to think what would happen if a musket ball penetrated the silk gasbag overhead.
The wind pushed them away from the sea. Sardec was glad because from this height he could see something strange was happening out there. The waters around the edge of the harbour boiled. Something massive and luminescent blocked the harbour mouth. It looked like a squid but was big as an island and its tentacles seemed so long that they might be able to reach up and pull the balloons from the sky. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter. It was cold up here but that was not what had caused the chill to run down his spine.
They drifted above temple spires. The waters of countless streams glinted silver below them. Once or twice he heard shouts and screams. Perhaps someone had looked up and seen the balloons drifting across the moon.
Rik still made Sardec uneasy. He had the feral inhuman look to him that Sardec had noticed earlier, and there was something strange and pained about his movements. If Sardec had not known better he would have thought the half-man possessed.
What had gone on between the Sardean and the half-breed, Sardec wondered? Why did Rik look so battered? What exactly was the nature of their conversation? And why was one of the highest lords of the Dark Empire talking to Rik anyway. Had there been some sort of secret negotiations going on between him and Asea, using the half-breed as a go between? If so, why had Rik claimed to have escaped and killed a Sea Devil in the process?
The city walls came ever closer, and with them the moment Sardec dreaded. There were potent warding spells woven into those walls. Amongst other things the wards were intended to keep war elementals out. What would happen when the salamanders feeding hot air into those balloons encountered the wards? Perhaps they would simply be snuffed out. That was not a reassuring thought so far above the ground.
Lord Malkior stepped back into the shadows at the back of the room. The drumbeat march of the Council’s soldiers had stopped outside the embassy, and they were demanding the doors be opened. They were going to be deeply disappointed when they got inside.
Alaryn watched him like a hawk. Malkior shook his head. “I am not so foolish as to think I can escape from the city when the Quan wish otherwise. Please allow me to collect a few adjuncts from my dwelling and I will join the Council soon.”
“I am afraid I cannot allow that,” said Alaryn.
Malkior feigned anger as he stepped closer. “Cannot or will not? You do not like Terrarchs do you, human?”
“It is nothing personal,” said Alaryn, and collapsed as Malkior’s blow caught him on the side of the head. Malkior caught the wizard as he fell, and let him slide gently to the ground. He wished that he could punish the man for his insolence, but any use of his personal brand of magic would let the Council know what Malkior really was, and there was no need to make things worse there than they already were.
“Intercessor Alaryn appears to have taken ill,” Malkior told the spy at the window. “See to it that he is looked after while I collect my gear.”
Before the man had time to reply, Malkior swept passed him, out the backdoor and into the night and shadows. He was annoyed at the failure of his carefully woven plans here, and knew that he was going to have some way to make Asea and her pet pay. For now though, it was time to flee the city.
After that he would need to accelerate his plans to kill Kathea, and make sure the Taloreans had cause to regret their invasion of Kharadrea. The voices in his head roared agreement. He called on the power within him, stepped into the shadows and vanished from mortal sight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“How did you know the wind would drive us south?” Sardec asked as they approached the wall.
“Nine times out of ten it blows off the sea at this time of year,” Asea said.
“So you could still have been wrong about it?”
“Yes. I expected to make my departure at the time of my choosing, but the odds were still with us. And if they had not been, I have a contingency plan.”
Before Sardec could ask what it was they passed over the walls. Sardec flinched but nothing happened.
“We’re through the wards,” he said, not quite believing it.
“Of course, they are designed to keep things out, not in,” Asea shouted. “Even if the elementals had been dismissed, we are perfectly safe.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The gasbags are already filled with hot air. It would take some time for it to cool, and for us to sink gently earthward. Before that happened I would release more salamanders and we could continue our journey. It would not do to land in the swamp by night.”
“No, it would not.” Sardec smiled in relief. It seemed they might live through this after all.
Dawn saw them leave the swamp behind them. Rik was glad. The smell of rot and marsh gas and other things rising from the land below them had brought back memories, not all of them his own. He had spent all night in fitful dreams, waking in the cold that the heat of the salamanders only partially protected them from, with the recollections of dead men, and other things bubbling to the surface of his mind.
There had been times in the coldest, darkest hours of the night when he had almost wished the Quan had killed him. At least then he would not have had to undergo this torture. It might have gone worse, he tried to tell himself. Part of him might still be alive, drowning in the memories of the Sea Devil forever, part of his soul preserved in it, as its soul was now preserved in him.
He felt horrible, worse than he had ever done when he was sick or hung-over and he knew the feeling could not be cured by healing spells because it was something that was directly within his brain. Whatever happened, he decided, he would not rest until he had paid Malkior back for putting him through this.
Yes, yes, vengeance, said the voices at the back of his mind.
He looked down on the snow-covered land below them. Occasionally, when they drifted over a fortified manor, or a farmhouse, tiny people looked up at them as if they were some passing god or demon.
“You are awake,” said Asea. “Good — you are just in time to witness the second part of this experiment.”
