Wolf Tide Page 18

  Stop. She took some deep breaths. Use your brain, she told herself. There was clearly a system of parallels going on down here. What was the nerve centre of Larridy, the seat of power? It was Palatine Square. That’s where she’d find the Master of Stacks. Somewhere about halfway down.

  Sure enough, in another few minutes just past Mm, she came to a portico. Above the arch was the City motto: Blessed are Those Who Walk in the Way. She made the triple sign. Groped for childhood prayers. Pelago, let my feet walk in the way. Let no ill befall me. Make my path smooth, O light in darkness, life in death. Let nothing evil walk here.

  She took a deep breath and entered. The light changed. Like sunlight. For a wild moment she thought it was open to the sky, that she’d somehow strayed outside again. But of course it was night outside. She ventured further, and gasped. Impossible to take in!—the breathtaking beauty of the place. There was the law court, the city hall! Above was a charmed mosaic ceiling, blue sky, a cloud drifting, a gull. Stone trees grew up from the floor. Candacian planes, their leaves green in a permanent underground summer. She’d heard of such charm-work, but thought it had long since vanished from Larridy.

  She had not gone ten paces into the square, though, when she saw her prayers would not be granted. There was evil prowling here. Silver drops on the cobbles. Fairy blood. She stifled a scream. A long smear where something had been dragged. She followed it. No, no. Don’t let it be true. But it was. A body. A slave. His throat cut from ear to ear. Too late, too late. She bent over him. Someone had folded his hands across his breast. Laid him out. She glanced up. He’d been placed beneath the statue of the south-facing Fairy warrior. Like one of the four that guarded the corners of Palatine Square.

  Heedless now, she ran to the western corner. Ah God. Another slave. Throat cut, hands folded. The Square wavered through her tears. She ran to the north, knowing what she’d find. And to the east. Dead, all of them dead! Why? Pelago, why did you let this happen? But perhaps she had let it happen. There was a strange pain in her chest. Like something had snapped in two. It really is like that, she thought, your heart can break like a stick of kindling.

  She knelt by the fourth slave and wept. I’m so sorry. His eyes were dull. Was this the one she’d met? Impossible to say. They all looked the same, that’s what the breaking process did to them. Was he free now? Had his soul gone home? She thought of how he had begged leave to kill himself. The Stackmaster must have ordered them all to commit suicide. Perhaps they’d been grateful. At least they’d been laid out respectfully, not dumped like rubbish. I did what I could. I tried my best. Gave him permission to strike back if his life was threatened. I’m so sorry. I thought it would be enough.

  Wait.

  Her heart hammered. An image flashed into her head. The slave holding up his hand. Five slaves. It had been enough. He’d escaped! He’d laid his kindred out and escaped. Which meant…

  She scrambled up. Stumbled to the centre of the Square, where a charmed fountain played. Something crunched underfoot. Fragments of black glass—a broken psych-tab! Her eyes darted round. Oh, sweet saints in heaven! There. Impaled on the Law Court railings, splayed out like a scientific specimen. She gagged. The Stackmaster. Naked. Emasculated. Tongue and heart cut out. Her lips babbled. Help me, saints, get me out of this, I didn’t mean this to happen, save us, save us!

  And then a fresh wave of horror hit her. You may strike back to save your own life—she’d forgotten to limit his self-defence to the Stackmaster. Save us! What had she done? Somewhere out there, free to roam Larridy, and free—thanks to her foolish permission—to kill anyone he thought threatened him, was the fifth slave. A mindless automaton, answerable to no-one.

  But before she could decide what to do, footsteps.

  She whirled round. Another set of steps. And another. Then a giggle. A Tressy riverman stepped out from behind a plane tree, knife in hand.

  ‘Come! Come to me, pretty lady.’ He made a kissing sound, like he was calling a cat. ‘Here, pussy-pussy!’

  She turned to run. Another stepped out. Another. Five, six. All round the Square. Each way she turned, her way was blocked. Knives. Crossbows. One pulled out a psych-tab. He smirked. The silver pen glinted as he wrote. Of course—they’d been frantically destroying all evidence of the Breaking Camp. She must have tripped some ancient alarm when she entered.

  They giggled as they closed in. ‘Puss-puss! Here!’

  Choose. Quickly. Her gaze raked round, seeking the weak link. That one. The insane Gull war cry echoed round the Square as she flew at him. Down he went, like a skittle. She’d barely touched him. Now she was back on Skuller. A crossbow bolt whistled past her, sparked off the archway. Down, down she ran, with the pack baying after her. God, show me the way out. Forty-nine. Every forty-nine arches there’s a way out. She raced on, eyes hunting for the scribbled horseshoe on the floor.

  The stampeding feet were gaining. There! A chalk smudge. One, two, three. She counted as she ran. Nine, ten, eleven. But her pursuers were fast, impossibly fast. Fly? Too low for that. They’d catch her! Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Speed my steps! Pelago, help me. Twenty six, twenty-seven.

  Then a scream behind her. She stumbled, went headlong. At the last moment she rolled and curled in the nearest arch. Let them not see me! They hurtled past. Then came a sound like a thousand mirrors falling. An explosion of jagged light filled the tunnel. The charms! More screams. They echoed. On and on. Anabara stopped up her ears. But she could still hear them.

  Finally it was over. Jangling filled the tunnel. She opened her eyes. A procession was going by back up the hill. Glass hooves chinked. Armour chimed. Coloured light slid over her. The last knight raised his visor and stared down at her. Then he spurred his glass horse on up the hill, and they were gone.

  The last faint tinkle dwindled. Silence. Then a sob. A voice keening. She got to her feet. Crept towards the sound. Nothing could have prepared her for this. A single blood-splashed riverman sat rocking himself in the butcher’s yard the charms had left in their wake.

  Anabara doubled over and vomited. The man keened on. She managed to straighten up and look at him. It was the weak link, the one she’d kicked. He swayed on his knees. Was he praying? Maybe he’d lost his mind. Why had he been spared? Suddenly it fell into place: he was a double agent. She picked her way through the carnage towards him. Her foot skidded. She retched again. The air was rank with blood and ruptured guts.

  He saw her, raised his hands. His eyes were starting in his head.

  ‘You’re Mooby’s man?’ she whispered.

  He nodded.

  ‘That’s why you let me escape back there?’

  He nodded again. Made the triple sign. ‘I saw you. At the slave auction. You are very brave.’

  ‘I wish I was.’ She shuddered and retched again, but there was nothing left. ‘Get up. We’ve got to find Mooby and warn her. The enemy knows everything. They can communicate secretly. With those psych-tabs.’

  ‘Yes. Fay-glass. Just now even, my captain sends a message.’

  ‘I saw him.’

  ‘You are betrayed, lady.’ He trembled. ‘He sends to Golar. Golar will come for you. Run! The cause is lost. The evil will escape.’ He looked around him. ‘Except these ones. My countrymen. God have mercy! What were those… things, those men of glass?’

  ‘Charms, ancient stained glass charms.’ She took his arm. ‘Come away. There’s nothing you can do. We must try and get out. Somewhere near here there’s a tunnel. Come on.’

  Their footsteps squished. Paran, Paran, please come back. Sweeten my memory. Wipe these sights from my eyes. The riverman followed her like he was drugged. She’d long since lost count of the archways. Nothing for it but to search each one till she located the forty-ninth. At last she found it. They tacked up the long weary zigzags. On and on. Pitch blackness, feet stumbling, fingers tracing the walls.

  Finally, noise. Muffled footsteps above. Voices. Where in the city would they come out? She’d lost all sense of dir
ection.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ she whispered.

  ‘Save yourself. Give no thought for me,’ he said. ‘May the Lord of Light guide you.’

  They fumbled hands together, shook. ‘And you. Go well.’

  She leant on the stone door. It swiveled, and tumbled her into a small room. St Pelago stared with mad little eyes. A shrine! The very one she’d sat in that first morning after the auction. Crowds were still thronging the street. She stumbled out.

  And there was Chief Dhalafan. She sobbed in relief. ‘Uncle Hector!’

  ‘Thank God!’ He took her in his arms. ‘You’re safe!’

  ‘There’s a plot!’ she gibbered. ‘Slavers! The Stackmaster’s dead!’

  ‘Hush hush. I know. It’s all right now.’

  ‘But you don’t understand! Golar—’

  He shushed her again. ‘I think you’re forgetting I’m Chief of the City Guard, my dear. Mooby reports to me. I thought you were safely at home, not careering about Larridy risking your life. We’ve got the situation under control, but I do not want to be worrying about you.’ He took her arm and led her through the crowds. ‘Now, I don’t want any arguing, please. I’ve got a secure litter here. It will carry you to a safe house, where you’ll be taken care of.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No. Leave it to the professionals this time, Anabara.’ He opened the litter door. ‘Hop in.’

  The fight went out of her. ‘Thanks.’

  He bent and dropped a kiss on her head. ‘I’m so sorry you got caught up in this, my dear.’

  Tears rolled down her cheeks as the litter bumped and jostled through the streets. I did what I could. It’s over. I failed. I’m too small, too young to fight this battle. Who was I kidding? Yes, much better to leave it to the professionals. And now, at last, a safe house. Thank God for a safe house. And for Uncle Hector, lifting the burden from her. Like the father she’d never known.

  The litter turned off Skuller into some quieter alley. A few more twists and turns, then it came to rest. She heard the bearers’ footsteps recede. A metal gate clanged shut. Well, this must be the safe house. Would there be someone here to greet her? She opened the litter door and clambered out. A small enclosed courtyard. Unlit. The moon stared down. Through what looked like a net. Could it be a bird-net, stretched overhead? Was this a fowler’s yard, maybe?

  Suddenly, dogs. Everywhere. Slavering, snarling. She sprang with a cry up on to the litter roof. Dogs! The yard boiled with them like a cauldron. They leapt and snapped. They could smell the blood on her boots. One got its paws on the roof. She kicked its head. Behind her another gnashed at her ankles. And above, the net! She was trapped.

  Then—oh, thank God—a tall man approached.

  ‘Call them off, call them off!’ she screamed.

  The dogs cringed back from him, parted to let him through. A flickering torch lit up his face. Pale moonstone eyes. Eyes like the Boagle-man. He smiled.

  ‘Welcome to your safe house, my lady. My dogs and I will be taking care of you.’

  CHAPTER 20

  ‘Get back, scum!’ She aimed a kick at his face. ‘The Chief of the City Guard knows I’m here!’

  ‘Yes, my lady, he does. He sent you to me.’

  ‘Liar! He rescued me! And when he hears of this—’

  ‘He already knows.’ Golar raised a hand, cutting her off. ‘My captain sent me a message from the Stacks. We had men waiting at all the exits with orders to capture you. No, Dhalafan did not rescue you—he sent you here, my lady. To me.’ The dogs snarled. Golar snapped an order. They fell silent. But their panting silence was even worse.

  ‘No! He wouldn’t do that!’

  ‘It’s a shock, I know,’ Golar said. ‘But the Chief and I have had an understanding for many years. He looks away while I ply my trade. I make it worth his while. He keeps me informed of Guard activity.’ He took out a psych-tab and held it up. For a second the moon winked off it. ‘You see? Your beloved Uncle Hector has betrayed you, demy.’

  Her legs shook under her. The whole world was shaking. Nothing was true anymore. Nothing was good. C stood for Chief, not Carraman, not Charlie. Chief Dhalafan.

  ‘It grieved him,’ went on Golar, ‘but he is a professional. He saw that you had to be silenced. He begged only that I would make it quick. But that is not my way.’

  ‘Paran!’ screamed Anabara. ‘Paran help me!’

  ‘Are you are calling for the Fay?’ Golar shook his head. ‘I warned you not to make the mistake of thinking him human. He is treacherous. They all are. He will not come.’

  ‘He will!’ she cried. ‘We have a deal! He’ll protect me.’

  ‘Then by all means let us wait for him,’ said Golar. ‘And while we wait, I will tell you what I have planned for you.’

  All around the dogs panted. Their hot stench filled her nostrils. Above, the orange moon stared down through the net. How strong was it? Could she rip through?

  ‘It’s razor-web. Carraman’s best, my lady,’ he whispered. ‘You will not be flying away tonight. Conserve your strength. You will need it. So. Here is how matters stand: you have robbed me of my Ship’s Fay.’

  She tried to spit at him, but her mouth was dry. ‘I bought him fair and square! Two hundred gilders!’

  ‘Grant that the Fay is yours, then. He killed two of my men. You are responsible for his actions. Therefore you owe me two lives.’

  ‘I owe you nothing!’

  ‘Two lives, I say. But more grave than that, you have been making a fool of me. You are an incompetent bungling time-waster, yet somehow you have managed to escape my snares and stumble upon the truth. And suddenly, a trade that has been quietly prospering these thirty years is jeopardised. By you, a stupid filthy little demy bitch.’

  A quiver went through the dog pack. They slavered. One raised its head and bayed.

  Her legs quaked beneath her. Pelago, save me.

  ‘You have no love of dogs, I see. Excellent.’ Golar’s dead fish eyes feasted on her terror. ‘Well, the matter of the Ship’s Fay is soon settled. I have not forgotten your Gull kinsman. He’s a pretty little slut and well-trained. He mollied for me eagerly enough, once I’d broken him. My men are lying in wait for him outside your house.’

  ‘They won’t get him. He’s protected, you sick Tressy gob-shite.’ Her voice rose shrill with panic. ‘My whole family is protected!’

  ‘By the Fay? But where is he? What can be keeping him? Call him again, my lady!’ He smiled his gentle smile. ‘Has it not occurred to you yet that the Fay does my bidding? You may have cut off the irons, but his soul is still mine.’

  ‘Liar!’ Her hand clutched the talisman. But was it true? Did that explain everything? ‘You’d better escape while you can, arsehole. He’s going to rip out your heart and eat it.’

  ‘Brave words! But again I must ask: where is this loyal Fay of yours? Why does he not come when you call—in your hour of peril?’ He shrugged and looked about the dog-packed courtyard, and up at the razor-web, that little smile playing on his lips all the time. ‘Well, I fear we must press on without him. I am a merciful man, and so I will give you a choice.’

  Terror twanged through every sinew. A choice. Like the one he gave Loxi. ‘Feck you! You’re a dead man, Golar.’

  ‘So brave! Let us see how far your bravery goes. You love your kinsman, yes? Then perhaps you would like the chance to prove it. Why not offer to take his place in that cage? Agree to this, and in exchange I will not set my hounds on you.’ He snapped his fingers. The pack surged forward.

  ‘No! You won’t get away with this! Mooby knows everything. She’ll catch you!’ she gibbered. ‘She’s on her way now!’

  ‘Of course she is. Just like the Fay. So there is your choice: save your cousin, or take your chances with the pack. They are Tressy wolf-baiters, my lady, trained to sport with their prey. But don’t worry. If you are still alive by dawn, I will dispatch you.’ Another sweet smile. ‘The choice is yours. Take your time.’

&nb
sp; The dogs began to leap and snarl. Their claws clattered on the litter roof. One leapt up behind her. The big pack-leader. Slaver swung in strands from its jaws. She lashed out. It snapped. Her left hand still gripped the amulet.

  ‘Paran! Help me!’ Golar was right. He wasn’t coming. In desperation she screamed in Fairy: ‘Paran, come to my aid!’

  At these words the stone writhed in her hand. A blinding slit of white. A paran. She was holding a paran!

  In horror she tried to fling it away. But it was welded to her hand. Some other will greater than her own by-passed her control. It slashed at the hound. The blade passed clean through its neck. As if through air. For a second nothing seemed to happen. Then the creature’s head toppled. Blood spurted. The carcass slumped off the litter and the pack fell snarling on it.

  Monstrous strength surged through her. The world slowed. She sprang from the litter roof, hung on the air like a feather. Everything was lit up, every charm glowed: the web above, the gate, the ancient gargoyle jutting from the roof edge. Slowly the hounds came at her. The blade melted through them, left, right. They fell butchered like chunks of meat.

  It was a dream. Of course! She was dreaming. Just dreaming. She saw Golar reach out to catch hold of her, watched the knife pass through his wrist, saw the hand tumble like a white crab to the cobbles. A dog seized it, infinitely… slowly… and made off. She watched the black hole of Golar’s mouth scream, and the blood spool out from the stump in a lazy necklace.

  Then she was bounding, bounding, each bound a league long, across the yard. The iron gate was a cobweb to the paran. She was through and in the alley. On and on she sprang. Skuller Road. The cobbles shone with charms. One skull-stone for each firstborn male Gull who had been spared. Charms everywhere! Silver-white, shimmering. She had not realised how full of charms her city was.

  But now there were people and she must be careful. Must not harm them, the crowds, pushing downhill. Drunks. Little children. Folk in wolf masks. She held the blade high. Like a blazing torch.