about to enter into.’
‘What about those refugees who are Indebted?’ Ormly asked. ‘Having them all disappear could cause another crash in the Tolls.’
‘It won’t, because the trickle is to be so slow that no-one notices-’
‘How could they not notice?’
‘They will be… distracted.’
‘You’ve got something ugly planned, haven’t you, Tehol Beddict?’ Ormly’s small eyes glittered. ‘Meaning what happened the first time wasn’t no accident. Wasn’t incompetence neither. You just found yourself with a string in your hand, which you then tugged to see how much would unravel. You know what you’re telling us? You’re telling us you’re the most dangerous man in Lether. Why would we ever let you walk out of this chamber?’
‘Simple. This time I’m taking my friends with me. So the question is, are you my friends?’
‘And what if our Chief Investigator investigates you right here and right now?’
‘My scheme is already under way, Champion Ormly, whether I stay alive or not. It’s going to happen. Of course, if I die, then nobody escapes what’s coming.’
‘Hold on,’ Onyx said. ‘You said something about expense. You becoming our financial adviser is going to cost us?’
‘Well, naturally.’
‘How much?’
‘A quarter of a peak or thereabouts.’
‘So you pay us half and we pay you back a quarter.’
‘And so you come out ahead.’
‘He’s got a point,’ Scint said, snatching a rat from the table and biting its head off.
Everyone stared, including a roomful of rats.
Scint noticed, chewed for a moment, making crunching sounds, then said around a mouthful of rat head, ‘Sorry. Got carried away.’ He looked down at the headless corpse in his hand, then tucked it into his shirt and out of sight.
From where Glisten sat came a plaintive sound, then, ‘What did that rat ever do to you, Scinty?’
Scint swallowed, ‘I said sorry!’
Tehol leaned close to Bugg and whispered, ‘If you could poke any of them in the eyes…’
‘Three of ’em would likely complain, master.’
‘Can I guess?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Ormly, Bubyrd and Rucket.’
‘I’m impressed.’
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Onyx demanded.
Tehol smiled at her. ‘Do you accept my offer?’
Brys found the Ceda in his work room, hunched over an upended crab lying on the table. He had removed the flat carapace covering the underside and was prodding organs with a pair of copper probes. The crab appeared to be dead.
Burners had been lit beneath a cauldron behind Kuru Qan, and the lid was rocking to gusts of steam.
‘Finadd, this array of organs is fascinating. But I’m distracting myself. Shouldn’t do that, not at this critical juncture.’ He set the instruments down and picked up the crab. ‘What have you to tell me?’
Brys watched the Ceda nudge the cauldron’s lid aside then drop the crab in. ‘The Azath tower is dead.’
Kuru Qan pushed the lid back into place then walked back to sit in his chair. He rubbed at his eyes. ‘What physical evidence is there?’
‘Little, admittedly. But a child is resident there, on the grounds,’ Brys replied. ‘The tower was in some sort of communication with her.’
‘The role of Keeper? Odd that the Hold should choose a child. Unless the original Keeper had died. And even then… odd.’
‘There is more,’ Brys said. ‘A resident within one of the barrows was accorded the role of protector. The child, Kettle, believes that person is capable of destroying the others – all of whom are close to escaping their prisons.’
‘The Hold, in its desperation, made a bargain, then. What else does this Kettle know of that resident?’
‘He speaks to her constantly. He speaks through her, as well. At the moment, he is trapped. He can go no further, and no, I don’t know how that situation will be resolved. Ceda, I also spoke to that stranger.’ Kuru Qan looked up. ‘He reached into your mind? And showed you what?’
Brys shook his head. ‘He made no effort to convince me of anything, Ceda. Voiced no arguments in his own defence. Instead, I was made witness to an event, from long ago, I believe.’
‘What kind of event?’
‘The bringing down of a god. By a cadre of sorcerors, none of whom survived the ritual.’
Kuru Qan’s eyes widened at these words. ‘Relevant? Errant bless me, I hope not.’
‘You have knowledge of this, Ceda?’
‘Not enough, Finadd, I’m afraid. And this stranger was witness to that dire scene?’
‘He was. Inadvertently, he said.’
‘Then he has lived a very long time.’
‘Is he a threat?’
‘Of course he is. None here could match his power, I would think. And, assuming he is successful in destroying the other residents of the yard, the question one must face is, what then?’
‘It strikes me as a huge assumption, Ceda. Killing the others. Why would he hold to his bargain with a now- dead Azath?’
‘One must believe that the Hold chose wisely, Finadd. Do you have doubts?’
‘I’m not sure. He has asked for weapons. Two swords. I am inclined to accede to his request.’
The Ceda slowly nodded. ‘Agreed. No doubt you were thinking of finding something in the armoury. But for an individual such as this, a normal weapon won’t do, even one of Letherii steel. No, we must go to my private hoard.’
‘I wasn’t aware you had one.’
‘Naturally. Now, a moment.’ Kuru Qan rose and walked back to the cauldron. Using large tongs, he retrieved the crab, the shell now a fiery red. ‘Ah, perfect. Of course, it can cool down some. So, follow me.’
Brys had thought he knew virtually every area of the old palace, but the series of subterranean chambers the Ceda led him into were completely unfamiliar to him, although not a single hidden door was passed through on the way. By the Finadd’s internal map, they were now under the river.
They entered a low-ceilinged chamber with rack-lined walls on which were hundreds of weapons. Brys had collected a lantern along the way and he now hung it from a hook in a crossbeam. He walked to a rack crowded with swords. ‘Why a private collection, Ceda?’
‘Curios, most of them. Some antiques. I am fascinated with forging techniques, particularly those used by foreign peoples. Also, there is sorcery invested in these weapons.’
‘All of them?’ Brys lifted one particular weapon from its hooks, a close match to the description relayed to him by Kettle.
‘Yes. No, put that one back, Finadd. It’s cursed.’
Brys replaced it.
‘In fact,’ Kuru Qan went on in a troubled voice, ‘they’re all cursed. Well, this could prove a problem.’
‘Perhaps I should go to the regular armoury-’
‘Patience, Finadd. It’s the nature of curses that allows us to possibly find a reasonable solution. Two swords, you said?’
‘Why would sorcerors curse a weapon?’
‘Oh, most often not an intentional act on their parts. Often it’s simply a matter of incompetence. In many cases, the sorcerous investment refuses to function. The iron resists the imposition, and the better the forging technique the more resistant the weapon is. Sorcery thrives on flaws, whether structural in the physical sense, or metaphorical in the thematic sense. Ah, I see your eyes glazing over, Finadd. Never mind. Let’s peruse the
