The Last Stormlord

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Scarpen Quarter Breccia City Kaneth wasn't happy. Right then, though, he couldn't have said which irritation in his life worried him the most.

It might have been the sand-ticks crawling up into his groin or the stones digging into his stomach as he lay at the top of a ridge in the foothills of the Warthago Range. It might have been the way the frost forming on the plants in front of his nose reminded him of the cold eating deep into his bones. Or perhaps the monotonous booming of that sandblighted night-parrot calling from its burrow entrance like a demented dune god. Or the fact that he believed Breccia's attempts to train sufficient guards for its defence were too few and too late. Or the unsettled feeling he had that someone was out there in the dark in front of him, someone who had no right to be there.

Or annoyance at his own shortcomings as a rainlord. If Jasper had been with him, he would have identified the unknowns, counted how many pedes and how many people and how far off-and all Kaneth had was a nebulous feeling.

Or, then again, it might have been memories of saying goodbye to Ryka three days ago, soon after the Gratitudes festival. Her farewell had been formal, polite-and somehow sad.

Ryka. He didn't know where to start when he thought of her. It was hard to admit, but he loved her in the idiotic manner of a youth twenty years younger. And she dodged him with the skill of a desert pebblemouse. When he walked into the room, she left. She hadn't been in his bed for so long he had almost forgotten what she looked like naked. She had even taken to wearing unattractive baggy clothing, as if she was warning him off. Strangely enough, that didn't help, either; it just made him yearn for her all the more.

Everything about her puzzled him lately. Several times he had felt she wanted to speak to him, tell him something that mattered, but every time she had backed off at the last moment. Once, she would have insisted on coming with him on a job like this, hunting for Reduners infiltrating the Sweepings to the south of the Warthago. Once, Ryka the scholar had also been Ryka the risk-taker, someone who liked adventure. This time, she had stayed behind to teach the water sensitives they had brought back from the Gibber, to try to turn them into skilled rainlords. Watergiver knew, they needed as many as they could train and as quickly as possible, but most of them were no longer in the city, anyway. They had been spread out over all the other Scarpen cities-except Scarcleft-because Nealrith had been loath to "put all our gems in one jewel box," as he had put it.

Kaneth sighed and pushed his thoughts away from Ryka to Davim. His gut feeling told him the sandmaster wanted Jasper. Kaneth just wasn't sure whether it was to make use of Jasper's abilities in order to appease other dune tribes-or to kill him, to ensure the return of a Time of Random Rain. One thing Kaneth knew for sure: Davim was not going to stay in Qanatend forever. Granthon might believe the sandmaster would return to the Red Quarter; Kaneth was not so optimistic.

He felt Pikeman Elmar Waggoner coming up the slope from their camp behind him, so he slid down just below the lip of the ridge and rolled over onto his back. He could see their camp fire below and the occasional outline of one of the other ten guards as they passed in front of the flame.

"Something to eat, m'lord," Elmar said, settling down beside him and handing over a packet of food. "You want to get some rest? I can get a couple of the men to relieve you."

"No. This job is one for a rainlord. There's something out there, I feel it. That valley running into the heart of the range is as black as a tunnel at midnight now. None of your men would see a thing." He unwrapped the packet and peered at the contents. "I can't even see what I am about to eat." He took a tentative bite.

"So what is out there?" Elmar asked, scratching idly at the large scar that marred his face, reminder of a long-ago skirmish.

"Living water of some kind. Blighted eyes, what is this stuff?" He took another bite. It didn't pay to be fussy out in the desert. "Something a dung beetle dragged in?"

Elmar did not even deign to acknowledge the complaint. "Want me to send someone with a message to the city?"

"No, not yet. It could just be a couple of Scarpen fossickers, after all, and not Reduner warriors riding to battle."

"Reckon they can't get packpedes anywhere over the Warthago except at the Pebblebag Pass, anyway. Those hills are as cut up with gorges and gullies as your granny's cheeks are with wrinkles."

"Elmar, how long has it been since Qanatend fell?"

"Must be sixty-five, seventy days, I reckon."

"And we have the pass blocked up with our men and rainlords on our side, and so do they on their side. We can't get down to Qanatend, and the Reduners can't get through to us. So what do you reckon Davim's been doing all that time?" He didn't wait for an answer but gave his own. "He's either riding around the end of the range, through Fourcross Tell-and that's a long way to take an army without a source of water-or he's looking for a way through that doesn't involve Pebblebag Pass. By travelling the length of one of those wrinkles you mentioned, in fact. With access to a water supply right behind him, the Qanatend mother cistern."

He ate the rest of the food, without ever identifying its origins. "There's something alive out there."

"A pair of randy horned cats fucking themselves silly?"

"Elmar, I love the way you regard your rainlord's water-powers with such respectful awe."

Elmar's teeth gleamed white in his face.

Kaneth licked his fingers and edged up to the ridge top again. And gasped as the feel of water on the move hit him with the force of a rockslide.

"Pedeshit!"

"What is it?" Elmar edged up beside him, peering into the darkness. "I can't see a bleeding thing."

"Neither can I," Kaneth said, but he slid back down the slope towards the camp in a hurry. "I don't have to! Elmar, tell the men to get the camp struck and packed as fast as they know how." He scrambled to his feet and began to run, calling over his shoulder as he went. "The Scarpen has just been invaded. There's a couple of thousand men riding like a spindevil wind up that valley towards us." His thought was an even more horrified: And Reduners have pedes that make our hacks look like cripples on crutches. When Jasper opened the door to leave Granthon's study after cloudshifting, Senya was waiting outside. She tilted her head at him as he closed the door firmly. "Your grandfather is too tired to be disturbed," he said.

"He's dying," she said with a careless shrug, "but it doesn't matter so much now that you're here."

He stared, disliking her even while his body betrayed him and responded to her physical presence. Like her mother, she was so sunblasted beautiful. Blond curls and full lips, long lashes, nipples outlined by the thin cloth of her tunic, thighs that curved, just so-all saying things his mind didn't want to hear even as his body did.

Blighted eyes, how can she do that to me? he pondered. I don't want to marry her; I'd rather marry Terelle. At least he didn't flush around Terelle, like a settle boy caught thieving pomegranates, as he was doing right now.

Senya tilted her head and surveyed him rather as a pede seller might regard a prospective buyer for one of his mounts. Her next words made him wonder if she was reading his thoughts. "My parents want us to marry. They think we would have a good chance of raising stormlord children. I just wanted to tell you that I can't imagine anything worse."

"I probably could," he said, face expressionless. "But only with a great deal of thought. However, it's nice to know we do agree on something." To his amazement, she was taken aback, as if it had never occurred to her that he might not want to marry her. "You didn't imagine that I would-" he began, and then stopped. "Oh, you really did, didn't you? You thought I would want to wed you."

"Everyone wants to marry me," she said.

"Not this sand-grubber. I may be a dolt from the Gibber, but I'm not so sandcrazy that I would want to marry a bad-tempered spoiled brat, even if she is passably pretty."

He realised he'd gone too far when he saw the flash of fire in her eyes, pure hate. She stalked off, anger smouldering in every line of her body, leaving him regretting his words.

As if I don't already have enough enemies, he thought. Waterless wells, you're a fool, Jasper.

"You do have to marry her," a voice behind him said.

He spun around to come face-to-face with Laisa.

Amused by his startled surprise, she said, "You really should practise keeping part of your senses tuned to your surroundings, you know. People should not be able to sneak up on you."

"You were sneaking, Laisa?" he asked, unsmiling.

She ignored that. "You and Senya will marry. Make no mistake about that. You have no choice. And soon. We need other stormlords born, and a union of you two is our best chance."

"She's too young."

"She's just turned sixteen. Old enough."

The only emotion he could feel right then was grief. He turned on his heel, and headed for his room.

That evening he did not join the Almandine family for dinner. One part of him might have happily bedded Senya, but he found it hard to face her across the table. And the thought that he might have to do that every day of his life appalled him. "Wake up! Wake up, my lord!"

Jasper stirred sleepily. Since he'd been shifting water, he slept so heavily it was hard to wake. It wasn't until Morion grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly shook him that he roused.

"Whaddisit?" he muttered, opening a sleepy eye.

"We're about to be attacked!"

That brought him to his feet in an instant. The world beyond his open shutters was alive with noise: indistinct shouts, running footsteps, banging doors. "What's happening?" he asked.

"Quick, get dressed." Morion, his eyes stark with fear, shoved some clothes into his arms. "Those sandgrubbing Reduner bastards are attacking the city. Or they will be by dawn. Lord Kaneth and Elmar rode in a while back. They've been riding two straight days with Reduners right on their heels sending ziggers after them."

"Are they all right?"

"Heard they were the only two left. There were twelve of them when they set out."

Jasper winced. Ten men dead, just like that?

He looked down at the tunic and trousers as he tried to absorb the news. "Travelling clothes?" he asked.

"Highlord Nealrith's orders for any emergency. Hurry, m'lord." He flung a pack down on the bed. "This is to take with you. There's food inside, a change of clothes, tokens, some instructions-"

Jasper scrambled, the sense of urgency having finally penetrated his senses, even as he protested. "I'm not going anywhere, Morion. How can I leave if we are being attacked? It is my duty to help defend-"

"That it is not," a voice interrupted, and Jasper looked up, startled. Kaneth entered, haggard and dirty. There was dust on his clothes, and dried blood. Yet his voice was steady, his gaze cool, his words as pragmatic and as cynical as usual. "If Davim enters this city, my guess is the first person he'll be asking after is you. And you wouldn't enjoy the meeting. Your duty, above all else, is to get to a place of safety. If anything happens to you, none of us have a future." Then his eyes spied the open shutters, and he momentarily lost his calm. "And what the pedepiss are you doing leaving the shutters open? There'll be thousands of ziggers out there soon!" He dived across the room and slammed them closed.

"I'm supposedly a stormlord-how can I run away?" Jasper asked.

"And just how many ziggers can you kill if you can't draw out their water?" Kaneth asked.

Jasper flushed and fell silent as he pulled on his trousers.

"Nealrith just asked me to make sure you know what you have to do. Laisa, Granthon, Ethelva and Senya will be going with you. You'll head south to the coast and Portennabar. Laisa will be your protection. Her rainlord skills are not too bad. You're to meet in Granthon's rooms. I'll take you there."

He grabbed up Jasper's pack and sword and hustled him out of the door towards the Cloudmaster's quarters. Jasper was still trying to tie his tunic.

"Morion said you had a hard time getting back here. What happened?" he asked, running to catch up. Two women servants hurried past in the opposite direction, wide-eyed and worried.

Kaneth said, "The advance guard were trying to cut us off. They didn't want us to warn the city. Most of my men were killed. Ziggers. Damn, but I loathe those whining winged bastards!"

"How much time do we have?"

Kaneth gave a hollow laugh. "The first of their warriors were on our heels. Maybe half the run of a sandglass behind us. That's all. Oh, the full army won't be here until tomorrow, but there'll be ziggers over the walls any time now. I doubt that everyone will hear the warning in time. I'm not sure we can even get you out before they get here."

They halted outside Granthon's door. It was open and the Cloudmaster's room was crowded with people. Servants had brought in a litter, and the Cloudmaster was sitting on the edge of it, about to lie down. He was glowering at everybody. Ethelva hovered nearby, her grey hair loose and untidily ruffled. Lord Gold was flicking water onto Granthon's head, murmuring a prayer at the same time. A couple of armed guards and a manservant stood next to the shuttered windows, silent and watchful.

Laisa and Senya had just entered, clutching water skins, packs and a lantern. Laisa regarded the scene calmly, her travelling clothes neat and practical, yet flattering; Senya was wide-eyed with a mixture of fright and excitement and looked as if she had dressed in a hurry. She was, as usual, wearing a calf-length skirt and frilly over-blouse. Jasper had never seen her dressed any other way.

"I'm off to my post on the walls," Kaneth said quietly to Jasper. "Zigger-killing. You take care, Jasper." He hesitated, as if he didn't quite know what to say. Finally, he settled for, "You deserve better than this, but it's all you've got. I'm sorry."

The lump in Jasper's throat was painful. "I know," he said. "Don't worry, I know."

Kaneth nodded, and then he was gone. Jasper entered the room, just in time to hear Granthon mutter, "A stormlord shouldn't have to leave his city."

"I know, dear," Ethelva said. "But you have to live for us all to survive. Now lie down, and these good men will carry you down to the pede."

"I don't feel well," he said.

"Then lie down," she repeated.

Instead, he doubled over. His hands clutched at his upper body and his face contorted. Then, silently, he toppled from the litter onto the floor. Ethelva tried to catch him but wasn't strong enough to break his fall. She ended up on her knees beside him.

Jasper stared. Granthon's eyes were wide open in a sightless gaze.

Oh waterless damn, he thought, aghast. That can't have just happened.

Before anyone reacted, there was a high-pitched whine outside the window. Lord Gold glanced that way, then knelt at the Cloudmaster's side.

"Is Grandpa dead?" Senya asked, her eyes large and round.

"I rather think so," Laisa said, sounding more exasperated than upset. "And those are ziggers whining at the shutters."

"Lady Ethelva, his spirit has left him," Gold confirmed.

Ethelva looked at him blankly.

Jasper remained stunned with horror. The Cloudmaster of the Quartern is dead. Which meant he, Jasper, was now the only stormlord the land had. He pushed away the terror of that. His heart thudded in his chest.

Later, I'll think about it later.

Laisa moved to touch Ethelva on the shoulder. "We should go," she said.

Ethelva looked up at her, not understanding. "Go? And leave him? I cannot do that."

"There is nothing you can do here." Laisa pointed out with calm logic. "He is dead. And he would want you safe in Portennabar."

Ethelva, leaning heavily on Lord Gold's arm, stood up. She said, with heartbreaking dignity, "My husband has just died. I will do my best for his city, and I will attend to the proper disposal of his water. That is my duty. It is yours to protect the next generation, Laisa." She beckoned to Senya and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "Be the best rainlord you know how to be, my dear." Then she turned back to Lord Gold. "Can you protect us from the ziggers while we accompany the body downlevel to the House of the Dead? I wish the ceremonies to take place there, as is customary."

Laisa shrugged and turned to Jasper. "You ready?"

He returned her look numbly. "The ziggers?"

Senya gave him a scornful look. "We don't have to go out into the street. Don't you know anything?"

"Nealrith had all contingencies covered," Laisa said. "Follow me."

"My father has had this planned for ages," Senya told him smugly as they hurried along the passage. "An escape route we can use if there are ziggers in the city. The waterhall first, then down through a tunnel to the thirtieth level. There's a secret room there where we can hide until the fighting is over and we've won."

He blinked, wondering if she could believe that. Won? Could a handful of rainlords and a few hundred guards win against hordes of Reduners with ziggers? And didn't she even care her grandfather had just died? In the waterhall, lit by an extravagance of oil lamps, workmen were constructing a stone wall to block most of the tunnel leading to the mother cistern in the Warthago Range. A hole at the bottom of the barrier allowed water to pour through. The waterhall's two reeves watched the workers in a worried fashion. Ryka Feldspar was leaning against a wall with her eyes closed. A number of guards lounged about, fidgeting in edgy boredom.

"Are there Reduners out there?" Laisa asked, addressing her question to Ryka.

Ryka looked up wearily. "Not now. At least not within range of my powers. Their damn ziggers killed three of my men, though." She indicated the floor, and Jasper saw that the flagstones were littered with dried-up zigger bodies.

"Where's your father?" Laisa asked.

"Up on the North Wall. Trying to kill ziggers before they cross the wall into the city." She shrugged. "Not easy in the dark." She glanced at a wall niche where sand sifted through a sandglass. "Another two runs till dawn. I don't know that he'll make it. He's not alone, but there are only four of them up there." She meant four rainlords. "Four for the whole of the Level One wall, plus the Level Two escarpment wall." She smiled wanly. "I don't think they are going to make all that much difference, do you?"

Jasper licked dry lips.

Laisa didn't comment. She was already turning to the nearest of the guards, asking him to open the trapdoor in the floor close to where the man stood. "Disguise the entrance after us," she added to one of the reeves as the guard pulled up the cover. He nodded, as if he had been briefed on that already.

Nealrith planned for all this, Jasper thought. The wall across the tunnel, our escape routes, every rainlord knowing where to go and what to do. Even the pack I carry was prepared for me beforehand. And yet they scorn Rith as a weak ruler.

Ryka asked Jasper, "Kaneth? Did you see Kaneth?"

He nodded. "He went to the walls. I don't know which part."

She nodded, as if that was what she had expected to hear. Jasper turned away, unable to face the panicked expression in her eyes. She really cares for him, he thought in surprise. She's sick with worry, but it's for him, not herself.

With the lantern in her hand, Laisa climbed into the hole and Senya followed, fussing about her skirts. Jasper climbed down after her and found himself in a dry brick tunnel. The reeve shut the trapdoor after him.

"It leads to the groves with one exit between," Laisa told him, "on the thirtieth level. We aren't going to bump into anyone coming up the other way. At least I hope not, because that would mean that the Reduners have found the outside entrance in the groves."

"They won't, will they?" Senya asked. Any semblance of scornful superiority had vanished. The sight of the dead ziggers had shaken her.

"Unlikely," her mother said. "The entrance is under the water in one of the grove cisterns."

"I don't like this," Jasper said. "We shouldn't be running away. If the Reduners are using ziggers, only rainlords-you and Senya included-can stop them."

Laisa turned on him in a fury. "Do you think I want to run? If we don't win tonight, I lose everything I've ever worked to have. I'd rather be up there killing ziggers than down here hiding. But you and Senya are the future, the only future we have. And I've been elected the one to secure that future. If Breccia City loses the battle tonight-tomorrow-I'm the one who has to escort you to safety. Now get going."

He paused, torn. She walked away down the tunnel, taking the lantern with her. Senya trailed behind, white-faced.

Jasper thought, Laisa believes we will lose. Sighing, he followed.

It was a long and silent trek, often steeply downhill, sometimes stepped. Jasper pondered his options as he went. He could not spend too long hiding underground. He was the only stormlord the Quartern had now. He didn't think he could make clouds at all without Granthon, but he had to try. Perhaps, in Portennabar, close to the sea… If he could see the water, reach out to it.

Deep inside, he knew it was unlikely.

At last they came to a manhole lid in the bricked floor of the passage that had the figure 30 painted on it.

"This is it," Laisa said. "Open it up, Jasper."

He did as she asked, and she knelt to lower the lantern inside. He peered in. A ladder went down a cistern wall into water deep enough to be over his head.

"I don't want to go in there," Senya protested. "I'll get wet."

"You're a rainlord, you fool girl," her mother said, her contempt scathing. "Who ever heard of a rainlord getting wet if they didn't want to? Jasper, you go first. Here, take the lantern. We'll follow. Go down to the bottom and walk to your right along the cistern wall. There is a watertight metal door at the end. That leads into our hiding place."

Senya continued to protest, but Jasper didn't wait to hear. He climbed down, pushing the water gently away from his body to form an encircling bubble of air. He arrived still dry at the bottom. He followed Laisa's directions, creating his own tunnel of air as he went. When he reached the entrance she had mentioned, he cleared it of water and studied the configuration of the water lock of the heavy metal door. It was a simpler version of the Scarcleft mother cistern grille, easy enough to manipulate. He soon had it open, only to find another door, unlocked, immediately behind it. Just in case the first leaked, he guessed. He opened it and stepped through, careful to hold back the water behind him.

It was a large room, much larger than he had anticipated. There were no windows and no other doors. Fresh air entered through several ventilation shafts set high in the walls. Pallets were piled in one corner; chairs and table sat in the centre; a fireplace-with kettle and pots on the hob-had been built into one wall, under a hooded chimney. The other walls were lined with cupboards and shelves and dayjars. He entered, still maintaining the wall of water so that it didn't spill into the room. He put his pack and the lantern on the table and opened one of the cupboards. It was filled with sacks and jars of preserved food, bowls and plates. Another contained a pile of compressed seaweed briquettes, an earthenware jar of lamp oil and several lanterns.

When he turned to face the door, Senya was just entering. She was half-soaked, and her skirt flapped wetly around her calves. Laisa came in behind her. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Senya, if you would only practise your water skills more, that wouldn't happen. Now get rid of all that water before I close the doors."

Sulkily, Senya did as she was told and sent the water back into the cistern. It was clumsily done and left Jasper thinking that she really didn't have much talent. He kept his expression bland. Laisa closed the doors behind her and reset the water lock. Jasper released his hold on the contents of the cistern and heard the water slap up against the outer door.

"Who knows about this place?" he asked.

"All the rainlords, including the waterpriests and Lord Gold. The seneschal. That's all."

Jasper thought: And all it would take for Davim to find us would be one man tortured into telling.

Senya looked around in horror. "There's no windows! I can't stay here."

"You don't have much choice," Laisa said unsympathetically. "Either this or ziggers. Take your pick."

"At least I could try to kill ziggers," she muttered.

"From the exhibition you just gave of water control, I'm not too sure you could."

"I could if someone would just teach me how to kill the rainlord way!"

"When you display the kind of maturity necessary to make good judgements, perhaps they might," said Laisa, hanging the lantern from a hook in the ceiling. She looked around the room with a sigh. "What do you know about ziggers, Jasper?"

"Quite a lot. I used to care for Taquar's. The Reduners would want to be quite sure all their ziggers are satiated and back in their cages before they themselves venture inside the city walls. They want no accidents caused to their own men by an improperly trained zigger."

Senya plonked herself down at the table, looking forlorn. Laisa, fidgeting, paced back and forth as she spoke. "They lost the element of surprise, thanks to Kaneth. And their mad rush from the Warthago Range means they and their beasts must be exhausted. It gives our rainlords a chance."

Jasper thought, She's as furious about this as a scorpion taken out of its hole. Aloud he said, "There's too few of them to protect a whole city."

"Yes. Fifteen without counting us but including the waterpriest rainlords. Most of them with no fighting experience, like the priests, or incompetent, like Merqual and Ryka, or just plain old."

"The other cities should have sent their rainlords," Senya said, "like Grandfather asked them to."

Jasper ignored that and said, "Fifteen rainlords to fight-what, two thousand Reduners? Ten thousand?"

"I've no idea. Iani said the force that struck at Qanatend was about seven or eight thousand mounted pedemen. Kaneth couldn't give an estimate of those he saw." She laughed. "He said he didn't stop to count them."

"What is this room?"

"It has existed since the city was built, I expect. Our forebears were always quarrelling between cities, quite viciously, I understand, until the idea of Scarpen unity was imposed on them. I suppose they once thought they needed secret tunnels and hiding places."

"What's our plan?" He was sure there was one.

"Several myriapedes are secreted away in a hidden gully along the escarpment to the west. They are kept loaded and saddled under the care of a pedeman, waiting for us if the city falls. All we have to do is get to them unseen and then flee to Portennabar, on the coast."

"If the Reduners besiege us, we could be here a long time. Even Qanatend held out for ten days."

"We are to leave the moment the walls are breached. In the heat of battle, in effect. The reeve on this level will let us know the right moment."

"How will he tell us?" Senya asked. "No reeve can open water locks to get in here."

Her mother indicated the two ventilation shafts. "The one on the left goes to the outside. The right-hand one opens into the level's Cistern Chambers. All the reeve has to do is speak down it, and we will hear. Anyway, let's light the fire and have a hot drink."

She took up the kettle to fill it from the water jar. Jasper fetched some briquettes for a fire.

"How long do we have to stay here?" Senya whined. "When's Daddy coming?"

Laisa ignored the question.

Jasper stared at Senya, nonplussed. She sounded like a girl half her age. "There's no way we can know the answer to that," he said finally.

"I don't like it in here."

"Neither do I much." He was about to say something else placating when he heard a whine, a sharp buzzing hum like the sound of a stone-cutter's saw. He knew what it was, and he knew it was in the room with them. He and Laisa both shouted at the same moment: "Zigger!"

Jasper acted without thinking. He grabbed up the nearest thing to hand, intending to swat the beast once he'd worked out where it was. At the same time, he pulled water out of the open water jar as a backup. He spun around, searching. The zigger was perching on the edge of the left-hand ventilator shaft, the one that led to the outside.

Senya screamed and jumped to her feet. Attracted by the movement, the zigger streaked towards her, its wings a blur. She dodged, her shrieks escalating in pitch and volume. At the last moment, she flicked her head sideways in a desperate attempt to escape. Her long hair swept around her face, netting the creature. Shrieking hysterically, flinging herself around, she gave Jasper no chance to hit the zigger and Laisa no chance to use her power without endangering her daughter.

Jasper flung the shaft of water like a spear. Half of it smacked Senya in the face; the rest tore the zigger out of her hair. Stunned and soggy, it fell to the floor. He stomped on it. When he lifted his sandaled foot, there was a splatter of red blood underneath.

Senya fell to her knees, still screaming. With a controlled calm, Laisa stepped up to her and slapped her face. She picked the dead zigger up by a wing and waved it under her daughter's nose. "Dead, see?"

The screams faded into heaving sobs interspersed with indistinct complaints. "In my hair… could have died… horrid… Jasper wet me."

"Yes, and you should thank him for it. He saved your life. Sunlord above, Senya, it's time you learned to behave like the rainlord you are. It is time you learned to be one."

Jasper turned away, embarrassed and shaken. He didn't like Senya, but he didn't like the way Laisa treated her daughter, either.

He glanced down and found he had a seaweed briquette in his hand.

Salted hells, he mused, just as well I didn't clobber Senya with that. She'd never have let me forget it. He said, "I'll find a bit of cloth to put across the opening of the shaft, but it was probably just sheer chance. It was looking for a way back to its cage." He pointed at the floor. "Ziggers don't have red blood. It had already eaten its fill."

Laisa casually threw the remains into the fireplace. "Revolting things," she said.

As he turned back to the task of laying the fire, Jasper considered what he had just done. He'd killed a zigger. He pondered that, and his thoughts were a revelation.

I've been a withering idiot, he thought. There is more than one way to eat a bab fruit.

And he smiled.