“It is not what I believe,” Loshtagh said. “I believe that whatever is inside your contaminated soul may infect us and pervert the growth of our pure enterprise.”
Something in what the argumentative general said triggered something else in Daniel’s memory of what he had experienced in the Night. Perverted growth-contaminated soul-pure enterprise. .
Daniel came out of his reverie to see the three elves studying him, as if to diagnose his condition, and Daniel became annoyed.
“I intend to help you whether you want me to or not. It’s nice that you can be so picky over where you get your help from. I don’t usually have that luxury. I don’t have it right now. Unless I go to one of the other ‘evil princes’ and ask for their help. Why should it make a difference to me? Perhaps they can even help me get back home.”
“It’s that sort of comment that makes me question your motives and loyalty toward our cause,” said Loshtagh.
“And
“You weren’t gone just one night, Daniel,” Filliu said.
Daniel froze. “How long was I gone?”
“Three days-four nights in total.”
Daniel considered. “I. . don’t know about that. But, listen: something happens to me at night.” He then recounted to the three as much as he could remember of what he experienced in the Night, which was almost all of what had happened to him during the first.
Loshtagh’s scowl had deepened during Daniel’s narrative. “It is a bad business. I do not know what it all means, or the nature of the devils that torment you, but it is a bad business. A bad business.”
But at length Filliu allowed him another mission, and this was one that Daniel felt particularly passionate about-tracking down Kay Marrey and K?yle the woodburner.
And so here he was, standing in an empty room in the uppermost tower. He had followed the directions they gave him, following a certain river toward its source, which was not as easy as it sounded. There were about forty different confluences and branches of the river, and he’d had to memorise the order of which to follow and which to disregard. He soared above the water, watching how the sun sparkled on the clear surface, making it glisten like a path of diamonds, but although he recognised the beauty of the sight, he did not delight in it.
The riverbanks grew steeper and steeper, rising toward him until, after the miles and miles that he travelled, they became sheer cliff faces, laced together every so often by bridges of splendid and ornate designs. Roads now ran along the edge of the cliffs, and houses started to become more frequent. There were only a few branching tributaries, but they were very small, and anyway, Daniel was at the end of the sequence. He was nearly at his destination.
A mountain of black stone rose up before him, from which poured a waterfall, and before that was an enormous palace, more of a city, really, since it was a cluster of buildings all squeezed together and built on top of each other, but they were built across the chasm between the cliffs and before the waterfall. It hung in an arcing and domed magnificence, sparkling and cool in the spray thrown off by the waterfall. Daniel had just hovered for a time, taking the inconceivable structure in. This, apparently, was the Falling Palace.
Studying it more closely, he knew it was practically deserted. Some of the walls and facades showed signs of disrepair, and green slimy growth was coating some of the areas that were in contact with water the most.
And so he had found the highest crested tower, which seemed a good place to start his search. All the fairy tales had prisoners locked in high towers, and he was in F?rieland, after all. But materialising inside, he discovered it was mostly empty-a disused bedroom where an elfish bed, a desk and chair, and some fine drapery were quietly mouldering in the damp. He didn’t have any time to stand around and reflect on the meaning of this, or the purpose of the room, and so crossed to the door. He gave the handle a turn and found it locked. There was a keyhole, and he bent down to squint through it. He could just make out a small section of white on the other side. Fixing himself on this, he let himself drift through the keyhole and into the stairwell outside.
A handy trick, he decided, and walked down the stairs, thinking it would be easier to be more systematic if he were solid, and feeling that being bodiless probably wasn’t so healthy for him mentally. He was starting to feel extremely. . abstract.
He wandered down the tower and checked in at the rooms that he passed and found them all locked and abandoned. At the base of the staircase was an ornate bronze gate that had weathered to a pale green. He slipped through this and into an open courtyard. It seemed deserted, but there were too many dark windows and archways to be certain. He went into the cloud and drifted through it.
As he passed, he noticed a metal grate in the panelled courtyard beneath him. He took a moment to examine it and the darkness within.
A drain? Into some sort of sewer system? How complex would a sewer for a city on a bridge possibly be?
He lowered his disembodied self to inspect it further and found almost exactly what he had come to find. If the wooden stocks and bronze manacles were anything to go by, he was in a dungeon. His main worry, however, was that it, like the city, seemed deserted. If this was a dead end, then he didn’t know what he was going to do.
He materialised and walked around the room. He grew uncertain as he studied the stalls and restraints, wondering if this was indeed a jail, or just a stable, but then he found a large, wooden door on the far end of the hall that had a wide metal grill in it. There was a glowing light issuing from it and he slowly approached it. He got a sense of foreboding from the door; he didn’t know why.
A door opened and closed behind Daniel and he evaporated. It was an elf of apparently high rank, dressed in detailed finery, flanked by two bodyguards and led by an aide that held an ornate silver lantern that burned with a pale light. Daniel watched them as they approached the door he stood beside. The aide pounded a rhythm on the door and it wasn’t long before it opened.
Daniel glided in with the rest of them and nearly lost control of himself at what he saw.
It was a broad room with a high ceiling that was like some sort of hellish chemist’s. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets upon which sat large bottles and jars filled with coloured liquids. The ceiling was decked with bundles of branches and sprigs of plants, and there was one wide wooden table in the centre of the room, and others spaced here and there where needed.
The tables at the right end of the hall were completely caked in blood, which had soaked into the wooden tops and burnished it a dark, red-tinted brown. Empty jars were stacked in the cabinets at this end, as well as large bottles of what smelled like preservative.
Looking at the bottles on the shelves, it was clear what was happening here. There were heads in jars on the middle two shelves that ran across the room. Below those were hands, and then feet on the bottom. Above the heads were different organs in smaller bottles.
All of them were neatly labelled and tidily stored. A small and bent sort of elfish apothecary puttered around at the wide wooden table before him, chopping some pale leaves with a copper knife. He raised his head at those who entered.
“My lord and prince,” he crooned, “Kione Traast, what an honour! Have you brought me anything new?”
Daniel noted the name-Kione Traast was one of Lhiam-Lhiat’s brothers.
“No, I haven’t,” the well-dressed elf replied. “I’ve come for information.”
“Ah, of course. I trust the campaign is going well?”
“It is going perfectly,” said the elf with a prickly measure of annoyance. “But would go smoother with more details on the inner workings of our enemies.”
“Of course, of course. Forgive my question, I did not mean it as a comment,” the wizened elf said nervously as he swept what he was working on to one side and pulled up a large book with thick sheets of vellum from beneath the counter. “Who is it you are interested in seeing?”
“Are the woodburner and the rider ready yet?”
The old elf ran his finger down the page. “Woodburner and rider. . yes, here they are. And yes, I think-yes, they should be ready. I’ll retrieve them, one moment.”
The elf prince stood imperiously as the little elf picked up a ladder made from willow wood and propped it up
