Vengeance

CHAPTER 33

‘The Rat Hole,’ said Rix.

They had spent all the previous day following a series of unmarked tracks and dead ends until they finally found a way out of the mountains, then making their slow way around the flank of the Red Vomit and through the morass of the southern Seethings. Now they were on the rim of a small, bowl-shaped valley, looking towards the maze of fortifications around the roofed shaft. Rix lifted his kilt to scratch his gnat-bitten rump. The wind had turned north-westerly during the night and it was unseasonably warm here, a good six thousand feet lower than the wrythen’s caverns.

He added, ‘I could take it with a hundred men.’

‘Since it’s unguarded, you could take it with a one-legged rabbit,’ said Tobry. ‘And you’d die as soon as you reached the bottom of the shaft.’

‘The grass isn’t worn,’ Rix mused. ‘There’s no sign that any army has ever exercised here.’ He let out a heavy sigh. ‘And they’d have to — you can’t practise battle manoeuvres in a tunnel. They’re not planning war at all.’

Tobry was staring at the shaft. ‘Unless it’s a different kind of war …’

Rix checked the angle of the sun — midday. ‘Come on. I’ve got to get home.’ Lady Ricinus would be honing her flaying knives by now.

‘Can I have the ’scope?’

Rix handed it across.

Tobry extended it to full length and focused on the maze. ‘I can see bodies.’

‘Bodies?’ cried Rix.

‘And part of the shaft roof has collapsed.’

‘Has Hightspall attacked? I’ll be really pissed off if war has begun and I’ve missed it.’

Tobry gave him a pitying glance. ‘Make up your mind, Rix.’

‘What?’

‘There are no dead horses, no bodies outside the maze.’ They rode to the walls. ‘Everything’s coated in dust. Whatever happened here, it came from within.’

‘So that’s what the mushroom eaters look like,’ said Rix, dismounting to study an unconscious Cythonian, a muscular young man with blue wings tattooed on his temples. He had never seen the enemy up close before. ‘Ugly brutes, aren’t they?’

Tobry rolled his eyes. ‘They’re alive, but unconscious. And there’s no sign of violence, plague or poison. That only leaves one thing.’

‘Magery.’ Rix shifted uneasily. ‘But you said they don’t use it.’

‘They don’t.’

‘So who did this?’

Tobry shrugged.

Grating sounds echoed up the shaft. Rix eased one of the broken doors open, started when he came face to face with the charcoaled corpse of a guard fused to the wall, then edged by and peered down into a rubble-choked hole.

‘They’re clearing the shaft,’ said Tobry, beside him.

Rix turned away. ‘Come on.’

‘Don’t you want to know what happened here?’

‘I don’t imagine it’s that important.’ Rix could think of nothing save the verbal crucifixion that awaited him at home.

They were riding down to the Seethings when Tobry, who was ahead, stopped so suddenly that Leather had to swerve aside.

‘Hey?’ said Rix.

Tobry had gone as still as a sphinx. As Rix rode up beside him, the wire-handled sword rattled furiously in its scabbard. He punched the hilt down with his fist.

‘Tobe?’

His pupils were enormous, his eyes even blacker than before, though after a minute they shrank to normal. Tobry shook himself.

‘Why is your mouth hanging open?’ Rix said mildly. ‘You looked as though your brain was in another place.’

‘Just thinking.’ Tobry frowned, as if trying to remember something, then looked down and said sharply, ‘Hello, what’s this?’ He dismounted, studying the ground. ‘A faint track through the grass.’

They followed it down into a dip where the ground was moist and soft, to a freshly cut grave neatly covered with stones. Two pairs of small footprints continued down.

‘Kids!’ Rix shook Leather’s reins. ‘I have to get home.’ And face Lady Ricinus’s fury.

‘My enemy can only be beaten with magery,’ mused Tali. ‘But the one person who can show me how to use my magery is my enemy.’

No matter how she turned Mimoy’s words around, it was impossible. She tried to dismiss it as the raving of a dying woman, but could not. She felt sure it meant something.

They had been trudging across the Seethings for hours. The autumn sun was still surprisingly hot, baking her head and shoulders through the heavy robes, and her mouth was as dry as the scalded ground beneath her. They had found no drinkable water since leaving the hills.

‘Rannilt, what do you know about your gift?’

Tali was trying to work out how it had sparked hers off. And how she might discover where it had retreated to, for she could find no trace of it.

‘Until this mornin’, never knew I had a gift. Where are we goin’, Tali?’

‘Caulderon, the greatest city in Hightspall. And when we get there, my family, House vi Torgrist, will help us. We’ll sleep in real beds — ’

‘Not made of stone?’

‘No, child. Our beds will be as soft as that fluffy little cloud up there.’ Without thinking, she looked up and the dome of the sky tilted. Tali jerked the hat down. Her phobia was worse out here; she was constantly fighting the urge to curl up into a ball inside her robes. She forced herself to continue. ‘We — we’ll wear lovely gowns and eat our dinner off silver plates. You can have a whole poulter to yourself, if you want.’

‘I’ve never tasted poulter,’ Rannilt said wistfully. ‘The big girls steal all the good stuff.’

She went skipping off to their left, following the tracks of some small creature that led across a smooth, grey expanse — alarmingly smooth.

‘Stop!’ Tali screamed.

Rannilt froze, left foot in the air. Tali tossed a stone onto the grey area, which rippled, emitted a burst of steam then smoothed out as the stone sank with a thick gloop. She felt a sharp pain in her middle.

‘If you stepped on that, you’d be cooked like a poulter. Stay beside me.’

‘Yes, Tali,’ said the girl, still beaming. Having adopted Tali, nothing could faze Rannilt.

But she had no common sense and, though Tali liked Rannilt, she was needy. She was a burden Tali could have done without.

You took her on, now you’re responsible for her. She looked ahead, trying to find the shortest path to the road, knowing the Cythonians would be much faster. They would have spied out the land years ago; they would know the quickest way through the Seethings, and how to get ahead to block her path.

Rannilt looked back anxiously. ‘Still not coming. Do you think they’ve given up?’

‘Maybe they have,’ Tali said, knowing it was probably a lie.

The attempt to assuage Rannilt’s fears only heightened Tali’s. They would never give up. Why weren’t they coming? Were they setting a trap?

It was impossible to go in a straight line here. The Seethings was a maze of mud pools, sinkholes, steaming bogs and chymical lakes surrounded by crystalline haloes of red, orange, yellow and green salts. Some pools were hot enough to boil eggs.

As she limped on, her thoughts returned to that image of her enemy, glaring out through Tinyhead’s eyes. Tinyhead had called him master and had broken that blue object against his own forehead to prevent himself revealing his master’s name. He was selflessly doing his master’s bidding, following some plan kept secret even from his own people.

It did not change Tali’s view of her enemy — an evil master could surround himself with well-meaning servants. He had been killing the women of her line for a hundred years; he was powerful enough to destroy Tinyhead’s mind from a great distance. And he had seen her. Was he watching her meandering passage across the Seethings, smiling as he moved the pieces to trap her? Was he after her because she was the one?

The thought made it hard to maintain hope. Some traps were perfect, some enemies all-powerful … and some people were born to be crushed, as the Pale had been beaten down these past thousand years. Even if she got away, even if she discovered her enemy’s name and where he dwelt, what could she do? She was neither fit nor ready. She would never be ready.

She fought down the despair, the surety that her quest was impossible and that she was a tiny fly trapped in a gigantic web. Clearly, her enemy needed something from her, and she was determined to stop him getting it.

‘Trees!’ yelled Rannilt, half an hour later. ‘Tali, we’re nearly through.’

Some distance ahead, a flat-topped mound covered in tall palm trees and shrubbery made a green blister on the ravaged flatlands. ‘It’s just an …’ Tali had to dredge up the right word, ‘ … an oasis. But at least there’s shade, and maybe good water.’

And, she hoped, relief from the endless open spaces that so panicked her.

They wove through tall, dense shrubbery, and the moment Tali lost sight of the horizon the pressure eased. High above, a canopy of palm fronds hid most of the sky, and it wasn’t rocking. Her pulse slowed to normal; the dread faded. They pushed through the bushes to a deep, heart-shaped pool touched by slanting sunbeams and surrounded by tus-socks of coarse grass.

‘Will we get to Caulderon tonight?’ said Rannilt.

The girl had no sense of distance, but then, how could she have? ‘Not at this rate.’ Tali scooped a handful of water, which tasted fresh. She drank, then worked the healing charm again. It helped, though only a little. ‘In the morning, if my legs hold out.’

She wasn’t looking forward to it. As soon as she went out into the open, the phobia would return. Tali felt a momentary pang; she had never felt this insecure in Cython.

What? her other self cried. You spent your whole life trying to escape, and now you want to go back?

‘Are you all right?’ said Rannilt.

Tali came back to reality. ‘I expected too much,’ she said absently. ‘I thought once we escaped, our troubles would be over.’

‘But we’re free. What can go wrong now?’

Tali smiled at the girl’s naivety. She scratched her itching head and could hardly force her fingers through her hair. Sweat had caked it with dust from the sunstone implosion; she was covered in it and spotted with Banj’s blood.

She looked longingly at the pool. Uncleanliness was not permitted in Cython, and being so dirty felt disgusting. Besides, she rationalised, no proud lady of House vi Torgrist could present herself to her people looking like a filthy tramp.

‘Rannilt, can you do an important job for me?’

‘Yes, Tali.’

‘Can you keep watch while I bathe? You’ll have to be careful, though.’

‘Yes, Tali.’ Rannilt’s eyes were glowing. All it took was a little kindness.

Tali washed her dusty gown in the pool and spread it over a rock to dry. It was beautiful and would make her feel like a lady of House vi Torgrist. Wearing it would also symbolise putting her slave past behind her. Then she scrubbed herself clean, combed her hair with her fingers, donned the gown, still damp, and felt sure she looked her best. She did feel like a lady, just a little.

Never again would she be a slave, or serve unwillingly. She pinned her father’s letter into the hem and put the silver seal around her neck, taking comfort from its link to her ancestors all the way back to the Second Fleet. Now, what about dinner? In Cython they ate fish or eel twice a week, though they were farmed in stone tanks and only had to be scooped out with a net.

She was crouched by the water, wondering if there were fish in this pool, and if she could catch one with her hands, when Rannilt whispered, ‘Tali, Tali?’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Heard somethin’ in the bushes.’

The backs of Tali’s hands prickled; why hadn’t she been more careful? ‘What was it?’ A pool of fresh water in the middle of the Seethings would attract all kinds of predators. She looked for a stick or a stone, but saw neither.

A long pause. ‘A man, a really big man. And he looks cross.’