Sliders, Smarters. And I got two assault weapons-a local arbalest and an onager-we’re fitting clay heads on the quarrels. And I got me a new lobber, too.’ He was almost jumping with excitement as he led Bottle through the camp. ‘My first squad’s going to be all sappers along with whatever other talents they got. I was thinking- imagine a whole Bridgeburner army, say, five thousand, all trained as marines, of course. With heavies, mages, sneaks and healers, but every one of them is also trained as a sapper, an engineer, right?’
‘Sounds terrifying.’
‘Aye, doesn’t it? There.’ He pointed. ‘That tent. Quick’s in there. Or he said he would be, once he got back from the command tent. Anyway, I got to go collect my squad.’
Hedge walked off.
Bottle tried to imagine five thousand Hedges, with the real Hedge in charge.
The flap rippled.
Scowling, Bottle crouched and ducked inside.
‘Stop spying on the Adjunct and me,’ the wizard said. He was sitting at the far end, crosslegged. In front of him and crowding the earthen floor in the tent’s centre was a heap of what looked like children’s dolls.
Bottle sat down. ‘Can I play?’
‘Funny. Trust me, these things you don’t want to play with.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. My grandmother-’
‘I’m tying threads, Bottle. You want to get yourself tangled in that?’
Bottle shrank back. ‘Ugh, no thanks.’
Quick Ben bared his smallish teeth, a neat white row. ‘The mystery is, there’s at least three in there I can’t even identify. A woman, a girl and some bearded bastard who feels close enough to spit on.’
‘Who are they tied to?’
The wizard nodded. ‘Your granny taught you way too much, Bottle. I already told Fiddler to treat you as our shaved knuckle. Aye, I’ve been trying to work that out, but the skein’s still a bit of a mess, as you can see.’
‘You’re rushing it too much,’ Bottle said. ‘Leave them to shake loose on their own.’
‘Maybe so.’
‘So, what have you and the Adjunct got to be so secret about? If I really am your shaved knuckle, I need to know things like that, so I know what to do when it needs doing.’
‘Maybe it’s her,’ mused Quick Ben, ‘or more likely it was T’amber. They’ve sniffed me out, Bottle. They’ve edged closer than anybody’s ever done, and that includes Whiskeyjack.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Maybe Kallor. Maybe Rake-yes, Rake probably saw clear enough-was it any wonder I avoided him? Well, Gothos, sure, but-’
‘High Mage,’ cut in Bottle, ‘what are you going on about?’
Quick Ben started, and then glared. ‘Distracted, sorry. You don’t need to spy on her-Lostara saw the rat and nearly chopped it in half. I managed to intervene, made up some story about using it for an augury. If anything vital comes up, I will let you know.’
‘A whisper in my skull.’
‘We’re heading into a maze, Bottle. The Adjunct’s ageing in front of my eyes, trying to figure out a way through the Wastelands. Have you tried soul-riding anything into it? It’s a snarl of potent energies, massive blind-spots, and a thousand layers of warring rituals, sanctified grounds, curse-holes, blood-pits, skin-sinks. I try and just reel back, head ready to split, tasting blood in my mouth.’
‘The ghost of a gate,’ said Bottle.
Quick Ben’s eyes glittered in the gloom. ‘An area of influence, yes, but that ghost gate, it’s wandered-it’s not even there any more, in the Wastelands, I mean.’
‘East of the Wastelands,’ said Bottle. ‘That’s where we’ll find it, and that’s where we’re going, isn’t it?’
Quick Ben nodded. ‘Better the ghost than the real thing.’
‘Familiar with the real one, are you, High Mage?’
He glanced away. ‘She’s worked that one out all on her own. Too canny, too damned unknowable.’
‘Do you think she’s in communication with her brother?’
‘I don’t dare ask,’ Quick Ben admitted. ‘She’s like Dujek that way. Some things you just don’t bring up. But, you know, that might explain a lot of things.’
‘But then ask yourself this,’ said Bottle. ‘What if she isn’t?’
The wizard was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed. ‘If not Paran, then who?’
‘Right.’
‘That’s a nasty question.’
‘I don’t spy on the Adjunct just when she has you for company, Quick Ben. Most of the time I watch her, it’s when she’s alone.’
‘That’s pathetic-’
‘Fuck the jokes, High Mage. Our Adjunct knows things. And I want to know how. I want to know if she has company none of us know a thing about. Now, if you want me to stop doing that, give me a solid reason. You say she’s got close to you. Have you returned the favour?’
‘I would, if I knew how. That otataral sword pushes me away-it’s what they’re made to do, isn’t it.’ Seeing the sceptical expression opposite him, he scowled. ‘What?’
‘It doesn’t push you as hard as you like to pretend it does. The risk is that the harder and deeper you push through the otataral, the more of yourself you potentially expose-and if she catches sight of you, she won’t just be close to knowing you, she’ll be certain.’ He jabbed a finger at Quick Ben. ‘And that is what you don’t want to happen, and it’s the real reason why you don’t dare push through. So, your only chance is me. Do I resume spying or not?’
‘Lostara’s suspicious-’
‘When the Adjunct is presumably alone.’
The High Mage hesitated, and then nodded. ‘Found anything yet?’
‘No. She’s not in the habit of thinking out loud, that much is obvious. She doesn’t pray, and I’ve yet to hear a one-sided conversation.’
‘Could you be blinded?’
‘I could, yes, but I’d sense the gaps of awareness. I think. Depending on how good the geas is.’
‘If it’s a geas directed specifically at your extra eyes?’
‘It would have to be. But you’re right, something specific, Mockra maybe, that slips into the rat’s tiny brain and paints a pretty picture of nothing happening. If that’s the case, then I don’t know how I could do anything about it, because with the local effect of the otataral, the source of that sorcery would be an appallingly high level-a damned god’s level, I mean.’
‘Or an Elder’s.’
‘These waters are too deep for a mortal like me, Quick Ben. My spying only works because it’s passive. Strictly speaking, riding a soul isn’t magic, not in the common sense.’
‘Then seek out something on the Wastelands, Bottle. See what you can see, because I can’t get close and neither, I think, can the Adjunct. Find a wolf, or a coyote-they like to hang round armies and such. Who’s out there?’
‘I’ll try. But if it’s that risky, you might lose me. I might lose me, which is even worse.’
Quick Ben smiled his little smile and reached into the heap of dolls. ‘That’s why I’ve tied this thread to this particular doll.’
Bottle hissed. ‘You miserable shit.’
‘Stop complaining. I’ll pull you back if you get into trouble. That’s a promise.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Bottle, rising.
The High Mage looked up in surprise. ‘What’s to think about?’
‘Quick Ben, if it’s that dangerous in the Wastelands, hasn’t it occurred to you that if I’m grabbed, you may not be the one doing the pulling on that thread? With you suddenly drooling and playing with dolls for real, the Adjunct and, more importantly, her army, are well and truly doomed.’
‘I can hold my own,’ Quick Ben growled.
‘How do you know you can? You don’t even know what’s out there. And why would I want to put myself in the middle of a tugging contest? I might well get torn to pieces.’
‘Since that wasn’t the first thing you brought up,’ said Quick Ben, with a sly look, ‘I expect you have a few contingency plans to deal with the possibility.’
‘I said I’d think about it.’
‘Don’t wait too long deciding, Bottle.’
‘Two full crates of that smoked sausage, aye. Fist Keneb’s orders.’
‘Will do, Master Sergeant.’
‘Strap them tight, remember,’ Pores reminded the spotty-faced young man and was pleased at the eager nod. Quartermaster division always pulled in the soldiers who couldn’t fight their way out of a school playground, and they had two ways of going once they’d got settled-either puppies who jumped at the snap of an officer’s fingers or the ones who built impregnable fortresses out of regulations and then hoarded supplies somewhere inside-as if to give anything up drew blood and worse. Those ones Pores had made a career out of crushing; but at times like this, the puppies were the ones he wanted.
He cast a surreptitious glance around, but the chaos swirled unabated on all sides and no one was paying him any attention. And the puppy was happy at being collared, so when accosted he could shake his head, duck down and use the various lines Pores himself used. ‘
