Synaptic Manhunt

He let his eyes follow the patterns of ripples. He made his brain become calm and analytical. He forced it to calculate the possibilities that might stem from any single action. He was completing the third level when a voice beside him interrupted the process.

‘Got a drink, buddy?’

Jeb Stuart Ho was jerked into the material world.

‘I’m sorry. I failed to hear you.’

A ragged, filthy drunk stood in front of him, swaying slightly and scratching his leg. He looked up at Jeb Stuart Ho and made an implausible attempt at a winning smile. He also raised his voice a little.

‘I said, got a drink, buddy?’

Jeb Stuart Ho smiled compassionately at him, and stretched his hand out to the water.

‘Drink of the fountain, my friend. There is plenty here for everyone.’

The drunk spat in disgust.

‘Fucking wisearse.’

He staggered away, muttering indignantly. Jeb Stuart Ho watched him sadly. It seemed as though Litz was a place where logic hardly functioned. He wondered if it was a fault in the city’s stability generators. He decided that his best immediate course of action should be to call Bannion. He looked around for a com-booth. There was one a little way on from Fidel’s Burgers in the foyer of an Obscenery. There seemed to be a lull in the traffic. His attention was attracted by a black, low-slung ground car that screamed into the square, dodging other vehicles with almost suicidal high-speed swerves. It made a half circuit of the square, drifting on the corners, and then screeched to a halt in front of Fidel’s Burgers. It only paused for a moment, and then gunned away again. Jeb Stuart Ho was just wondering if it was some kind of local pastime, when the interior of Fidel’s was taken out by an impact bomb.

The blast lifted Jeb Stuart Ho clean off his feet, and blew him some metres across the square. When he had picked himself up and recovered from the shock, there were LDC patrol cars arriving, ploughing through the rubble that now littered the square in front of what had recently been a brightly lit burger joint. A Correction Department airship floated overhead, directing its searchlights down at the wrecked building. A pair of ornithopters fluttered close to the mass of its cigar-shaped gas bag. From inside the ruins, Jeb Stuart Ho could hear muffled screaming.

A thought struck Jeb Stuart Ho with almost physical force. One of the strongest possible reasons for someone bombing the burger joint was the fact that he might have been there. If he hadn’t abandoned the meal he would have still been sitting inside. It was an obvious move on the part of A.A. Catto to hire warriors, more likely brigands of some kind, to kill him before he killed her. It was a very logical action. He felt a tingle run through his muscles. It was now a battle, something which he could deal with.

A throng of sightseers were already pressing towards the ruins of Fidel’s. They milled about and hampered the movements of the LDC. A fire truck, a medic unit and more patrol cars arrived. The disaster area was now packed with people, and luridly illuminated by the garish colours of the flashing warning lights. Jeb Stuart Ho pushed himself to the centre of the crowd to see if he could pick up any clue to the identity of the attackers. Even the patrolmen seemed to move out of the way of the tall, sinister, black-clad figure.

At the far side of the crowd, Jeb Stuart Ho spotted Bannion. He was still dressed in his rumpled brown suit. He appeared to be directing operations. He waved and gesticulated to the squad. Bodies were being carried out of the wreckage on stretchers. Jeb Stuart Ho made his way across to where Bannion stood.

‘Chief-Agent Bannion.’

Bannion turned. When he saw Ho he scowled and took the cigar from between his teeth.

‘What the hell are you doing here? Why don’t you fuck off? I’ve got enough troubles without you showing up.’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a deep breath.

‘I fear I may have inadvertently been responsible for this unfortunate occurrence.’

Bannion looked as though he was going to explode. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a snub-nosed .70 correction special. He waved it under Jeb Stuart Ho’s nose.

‘I’ve a good mind to kill you right now! Accidentally!’

He almost spat out the last word. Jeb Stuart Ho stood very still, staring impassively at the gun. Its short barrel was almost as wide as it was long. At last the chief-agent managed to control himself. His words were cold and deadly.

‘Are you trying to tell me that you blew up Fidel’s burger joint?’

Jeb Stuart Ho quickly shook his head.

‘I didn’t cause the explosion. That would have been neither logical nor ethical. I think I may well have been the intended victim.’

‘You were in the place?’

‘Minutes before the explosion. I left quickly because the food was so bad.’

Bannion’s lip curled.

‘That figures. Go on.’

‘It is my deduction that whoever drove up and threw the bomb was hired by A.A. Catto to kill me.’

‘Before you get to her?’

‘That’s correct. I think there will be other attempts.’

Bannion dropped his cigar and ground it out with his heel.

‘You really are a prize, aren’t you, brother? First you cause the death of one of my officers and now you seem to have started a mini-war. I knew I should never have let you go. I should have shot you when you were first brought in.’

Jeb Stuart Ho attempted to be totally reasonable.

‘Perhaps you should attempt to cooperate with me.’

Bannion began to turn red again.

‘Cooperate! With you!’

‘The sooner I find A.A. Catto, the sooner I’m out of your city.’

Bannion’s face tightened.

‘Listen, sunshine. If I knew where the girl was, you’d be the last person I’d tell. I hope her boys get you real soon. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and blow you apart.’

‘I …’

Bannion began waving the pistol again.

‘Get!’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a last look at the mess of broken glass, twisted neon and shattered concrete. As he walked away, the vid crews began arriving. They came in all sizes, from single hand-held operators with scanners and backpacs to big, full-size mobiles that rode on their own cushion of air. Each company’s crew vied with the others to get the tightest close-ups of death and mutilation. One portable operative was kneeling beside an arm that had been ripped off and flung out into the road. At close range he panned along it, recording every pore and every fleck of blood in loving 3D colour. Jeb Stuart Ho shuddered and walked away.

He kept on walking until he had covered the length of five blocks. The city of Litz was beginning to produce a taste in his mouth that was far worse than the Vegie-Wonder. He passed an alley that ran up the side of a Sex-O-Mat and something called Ye Olde Gunne Shoppe. A furtive movement made him pause. Although it was only half seen, there was something about it that triggered a subconscious response. Without thinking, he threw himself flat on the sidewalk. At the same instant there was the flash and explosion of a riot gun. Jeb Stuart Ho heard the scream of the cloud of deadly metal particles pass about half a metre over his head.

Two more blasts came from the alley, but both were slightly above him. Jeb Stuart Ho swivelled on his stomach with his own gun braced in both hands. He let go two shots in the direction of the flashes. It seemed from their position that there was more than one gunman. More riot blasts screamed over his head, and Ho returned the fire.

There was a clatter of garbage cans, and two men broke cover and ran, weaving in a low crouch down the alley. Jeb Stuart Ho snapped off a shot, and one of them fell. He was about to fire again, but the second man vanished into the shadows.

Ho, still flat on the ground, moved sideways like a crab. He reached the cover of the Sex-O-Mat wall and cautiously stood up. Still holding his gun, he drew his sword left-handed. He moved slowly and carefully down the alley. He was tensed to shoot at the slightest movement. After about twelve paces he came upon the body of one of the assassins. There was an ugly hole in his chest, and he was quite dead. Jeb Stuart Ho felt a grim satisfaction at his marksmanship. He now only had one killer to deal with. He moved on along the alley, keeping a careful watch on the deep shadows.

There was a slight movement, and Ho sprang sideways like a cat as a riot gun went off. A handful of particles nicked the right arm of his suit. He landed fractionally off balance, and before he could fire, a figure leaped to its feet and started running back in the direction of the street. The man made an easy target against the streetlights. Jeb Stuart Ho was about to fire, but then he changed his mind. He wanted this one alive. He dropped his gun into its holster, switched his sword to his right hand, and went after him.

When he reached the pavement the man hesitated for a moment and then ran to his right. A second later, Jeb Stuart Ho turned the corner, and saw him duck inside the Sex-O-Mat. Jeb Stuart Ho followed. Inside the brightly lit doorway was a red velvet curtain. He swept it aside and found a turnstile. He didn’t bother to fumble for his credit card. He jumped it. There was no sign of the man in the small anteroom. He went on into a red-lit corridor. On either side of it were red doors that led into two rows of cubicles. The man must have taken refuge in one of the cubicles. Jeb Stuart Ho started towards the first. A figure appeared from a small alcove.

‘Hey you!’

Ho swung round with his sword in the ready position. It was a guardian. Probably the Sex-O-Mat bouncer. The clone seemed to ignore the pointed sword and kept on coming.

‘You have entered without paying.’

Ho took a step back.

‘Did a man come through here?’

The clone kept on moving towards him.

‘You will either leave or pay.’

He produced a short club from his belt. Jeb Stuart Ho took another step back. He was struck by a sense of the absurd. Here he was, an expert swordsman, backing away from a man with a small billy club. He had no desire to kill the man, but he couldn’t afford to lose the gunman. He deliberately lowered his sword. The guardian swung his club at his head. Jeb Stuart Ho’s hand flashed up and blocked the blow. At the same time, the hilt of his sword flicked the clone behind the ears. He suddenly sagged to the floor. Jeb Stuart Ho stepped over him and started down the corridor.

Each door had a small tri-di cube set in the door, just below eye level. This gave the customer an idea of what particular attraction the cubicle contained. The first one showed a young girl lying down with her legs spread wide. She was caressing herself with a single repeating motion. The cubes were obviously run on a single short loop. On the second door a well-built girl in an outfit of leather and studs repeatedly cracked a long bullwhip, while the third showed a muscular young man flexing his biceps.

The fourth was blank. It looked as though it was filled with a kind of pink mist. Jeb Stuart Ho assumed that it was the sign that the cubicle was occupied. He took a pace back and then launched himself at the door. His foot hit the lock and it shattered. He pivoted so a riot gun blast from inside the cubicle wouldn’t hit him. None came. He pushed the door. A girl was on all fours on the bed, a small fat man crouching over her. They both stared at Jeb Stuart Ho, wide-eyed with shock and fear. He muttered his apologies and closed the damaged door.

The next two had images in the cube. The third was occupied. He hit the door. This time he interrupted a. loose-skinned middle-aged woman being thrashed by a handsome, golden-tanned young man. Again Ho made his excuses and shut the door.

At the third door Jeb Stuart Ho hesitated. All he seemed to be doing was progressively breaking up the Sex-O-Mat and frightening the customers. The man should be in the place somewhere. He poised himself to hit the door. At the last moment he remembered to twist and avoid any blast inside the cubicle. A fraction of a second later his care was rewarded. A riot gun blast shattered the door frame.

Ho rolled into the room. A small man in dirty overalls was half standing, half kneeling on the bed. A frightened sex operative was huddled in the corner. Before the gunman could fire again, Ho stabbed his sword clean through his foot. The man screamed. Ho lashed out with his foot and knocked the riot gun out of his hands. The man attempted to drag the sword out of his foot, but Jeb Stuart Ho kept on holding the sword. The man gashed his hand and gave up the attempt. Ho flicked one of his knives forward into his hand from the sheath on his arm. He placed it gently under the man’s chin.

‘I wish to talk to you.’

‘My foot! Take the goddamn sword out.’

‘When you’ve told me what I want to know.’

‘I ain’t saying nothing.’

‘But you are. You are making a great deal of noise. I need to know why you tried to kill me.’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Why not?’

‘They’ll kill me.’

‘Who will kill you?’

‘I’m not saying.’

‘I will kill you. It will be very slow and painful. I have no desire to do it, but I need the information you have very badly.’

The man looked desperate.

‘If I talk I’ll be killed.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him with great patience.

‘If that is the truth, you must accept death, for if you don’t talk, I am going to kill you.’

‘Please …’

‘I take it that A.A. Catto hired you.’

‘I don’t know any A.A. Catto.’

Jeb Stuart Ho twisted the sword a little. The man gasped and sweat stood out on his forehead.

‘Listen … It was a girl that hired me. For fuck’s sake take that thing out of my foot.’

‘Where’s the girl now?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

Jeb Stuart Ho put his face very close to that of the snan.

‘It’s just occurred to me that you might fear castration even more than death.’

The man gave a strangled shriek as Jeb Stuart Ho slowly moved his knife towards his genitals. The tip touched the material of the man’s overalls. Jeb Stuart Ho paused.

‘For the last time, where is she?’

The eyes darted from side to side in terror. Finally he gave in.

‘She’s holed up at the Leader Hotel.’

Ho jerked the sword out of the man’s foot. He fell back on the bed, groaning. Ho turned to the boy.

‘Is there a back way out of here?’

He could already hear LDC sirens outside. He didn’t want to run into Bannion so soon after the last time. The boy started to giggle hysterically. He slapped him across the face.

‘Can I get out at the back?’

He pulled himself together.

‘There’s a fire exit at the far end of the corridor. It leads out into the alley.’

Jeb Stuart Ho let himself out. He ran down the alley, away from the patrolmen who were milling in front of the Sex-O-Mat. When he reached the next main street he flagged down a cab.

‘Leader Hotel, and quickly.’

***

The com-screen buzzed in Nancy’s room at the Leader. Reave answered it. The room had been turned into a virtual command post. In addition to A.A. Catto, Reave, Nancy and Billy, Monk and four other hoods including Wormo hung about waiting for news. The Minstrel Boy squatted in a corner with his hands tied. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of booze. As the screen came to life it brought the face of little Sammy into focus. He looked agitated.

‘Lemme speak to Monk.’

Reave turned to Monk.

‘It’s Sammy, he wants to speak to you.’

Monk moved within range of the screen.

‘What d’you want?’

‘It’s trouble, boss.’

‘Trouble?’

‘That killer. He’s on the loose. It looks like he’s heading your way.’

‘What?’

‘I just heard over the LDC radio net. I’ve got a buddy who works as a dispatcher. The bomb at Authority Square didn’t get him. He’d already left the place. Mutt and Drucker made a play for him. He shot Drucker, and then chased Mutt into a Sex-O-Mat. It seems like he’s wrecked the place and cut Mutt up pretty bad. I figure there can’t be no way that Mutt didn’t talk.’

Monk looked grim.

‘So you think he’s on his way here?’

Sammy nodded.

‘He’s got to be.’

Monk thought for a couple of seconds.

‘How long ago did all this happen?’

‘Five, maybe ten minutes.’

‘Listen, you better get back over here.’

Sammy avoided Monk’s eyes.

‘Listen, Monk. No disrespect or anything, but I ain’t coming anywhere near the place. I had it with this job. I’m through.’

Monk snarled.

‘You’re through alright.’

He hit the console with the edge of his hand and broke the connection.

‘Chickenshit!’

He turned to Nancy and A.A. Catto.

‘You hear that?’

They both nodded. Nancy looked round the room. Everyone had fallen silent.

‘We have to get out of here.’

A.A. Catto turned to Monk.

‘How do I get out of the city? I’ve got to find a place where he can’t reach me.’

Monk looked blankly at the other hoods.

‘Don’t ask us, lady. We’ve never been out of the city in our lives.’

A.A. Catto looked round helplessly. Nobody seemed about to offer any kind of practical suggestion. Reave muttered something about calling a cab, and A.A. Catto hit him with the small riding crop that hung from her wrist. Even the blow seemed a little preoccupied. Finally the Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘You could rent an airship.’

A.A. Catto gripped the crop firmly and advanced on him.

‘Are you trying to be funny?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘Am I in any position to be funny?’

He held up his bound hands.

‘I’m perfectly serious. I’m good at getting people out of trouble. Ask Billy and Reave.’

A.A. Catto looked doubtful.

‘Where do I get an airship from?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘Dirigible Rentals, Lighter Than Air Leasing. They’re both good. You can get their coordinates from Information.’

A.A. Catto kicked him.

‘You’re trying to make a fool out of me.’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged as best he could while tied up. Captivity seemed to be making him philosophical. A.A. Catto was about to kick him again when Reave called across from the com-screen.

‘He’s right. Both corporations exist.’

Reave had discreetly checked while A.A. Catto had been raging at the Minstrel Boy. She redirected her anger at him.

‘Then get one, dummy.’

The Minstrel Boy sank back into the corner with a sigh while Reave went about his task. He ceased to wonder how he was going to get out of the situation. He was thankful for being alive from one moment to the next. He wondered if this minute at a time lifestyle was the basis of his new-found philosophy. Reave looked up from the screen.

‘Dirigible Rentals can get a one hundred capacity here in fifteen minutes. It comes with a cinema and small intimate ballroom. The orchestra’s extra.’

‘Screw the orchestra. Can’t they get it here any quicker?’

Reave shook his head.

‘We’re paying double for that.’

‘Order it, then.’

‘I can’t.’

A.A. Catto went bright red.

‘What do you mean you can’t?’

‘You have to. You’re the client, it’s your credit card.’

Reave stood up and A.A. Catto flung herself into the chair in front of the com-set. As she was arranging the airship hire, Nancy went over to where Monk was sitting staring bleakly into the mirror of her elaborate makeup table.

‘How long do you figure it will be before Jeb Stuart Ho gets here?’

Monk toyed with one of Nancy’s gilt hairbrushes.

‘If he took a ground cab, and the traffic went his way, maybe ten minutes. Give or take a couple of minutes each way.’

A.A. Catto came across from the com-set. She’d gone white.

‘But the airship won’t be here for fifteen.’

Monk nodded.

‘So it’ll be too late.’

Monk nodded again. A.A. Catto bit her knuckles

‘What can we do?’

Nobody answered. She looked at Nancy.

‘There must be something. He’s going to kill me.

Nancy looked at Monk, and back to A.A. Catto.

‘If Monk and his boys could hold him off for five minutes or more we could go up on the roof and wait for the ship to come. We can board it from there. It’s not used, but there’s still an old mooring tower from when this used to be a fancy hotel.’

Monk, who had listened to the whole conversation in sullen silence, suddenly slammed his fist into the top of the dressing table.

‘No way!’

Nancy looked at him in surprise.

‘No way what?’

‘No way will we hold off this guy for you.’

Every eye in the room was on Monk. Reave walked over and stood beside him.

‘Why not, Monk, what’s wrong?’

The Minstrel Boy’s voice came from the corner.

‘I’ll tell you why not.’

Reave turned towards him.

‘Why?’

‘For one, the man knows if you all jump on your airship, he ain’t going to get paid, and for two, Jeb Stuart Ho is most likely to kill anyone who gets in his way.’

A.A. Catto suddenly exploded. She pushed past Reave, and started slashing at the Minstrel Boy with her riding crop.

‘I’ll kill you! You little creep! I’ve had enough! Nasty little punk! I’ll …’

Reave grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn’t reach her ring. Even as he was doing it he couldn’t believe himself. He’d never been so brave.

‘Come on. Calm down.’

A.A. Catto continued to struggle.

‘If I’m going to die, I’m going to kill him first.’

The Minstrel Boy had curled up in a ball in the corner. He marvelled that he still hadn’t died. Suddenly Nancy moved between him and A.A. Catto.

‘There’s no reason why anyone should die, least of all you.’

A.A. Catto stopped struggling,

‘What do you mean?’

Nancy glanced at Monk.

‘I’m sure Monk and the boys would hold off Ho if you offered them a credit card each.’

Monk suddenly looked interested.

‘How do we get them?’

‘A.A. Catto calls the bank and makes the arrangements. They could be transmitted to the desk clerk who could hold them until we’re safely away.’

Nancy didn’t neglect to make sure of her own place on the airship.

Monk hesitated. He tilted back his fedora and scratched his head. Then he looked at A.A. Catto.

‘You agree to that?’

‘Anything, anything.’

Monk nodded.

‘Okay, do it, we’re wasting time.’

Reave let go of A.A. Catto. While she began desperately to punch out coordinates, he began to direct his men.

‘Huey and Jeff, you go down to the lobby. Stay hidden. When he comes in let him get past you, then shoot him in the back.’

The two hoods nodded. He turned to the other two.

‘Wormo and Chang, us three will set ourselves up on the landing. If he gets past the other two, we’ll be there to blast him in a cross fire whether he uses the lift or the stairs. Okay?’

The two men rather reluctantly agreed. He glanced at A.A. Catto.

‘Is it fixed?’

She nodded.

‘It’s fixed.’

The hoods all trooped out. Everyone looked at Billy. Nancy scowled.

‘What about him?’

A.A. Catto turned.

‘What about him?’

Reave turned from collecting up the things they’d need.

‘Can’t he come with us?’

A.A. Catto looked petulant.

‘Why?’

‘He’s my old partner. I can’t leave him, he might be killed.’

‘Why should I do you any favours, you hurt me just now?’

Reave almost grovelled.

‘Please.’

‘Oh, very well.’

Billy looked questioningly at Reave.

‘What about Darlene? She’s up in our room with a trick.’

‘You’ll have to leave her. There isn’t time.’

Billy shrugged.

‘Okay.’

The Minstrel Boy decided to push his luck.

‘What about me?’

A.A. Catto regarded him coldly.

‘What about you?’

‘I could be useful. I’d know where you were. You’re going to have to go through the nothings. I could be amazingly useful.’

A.A. Catto shook her head.

‘You’re not going.’

‘I could save you a lot of trouble.’

Reave looked uncertain.

‘He could be right. After all he is a guide.’

A.A. Catto began to get angry again.

‘I’ve already agreed to take one of your little friends. I’m not taking him. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him.’

Reave didn’t press the point. The four of them began to file out towards the lift. The Minstrel Boy had one last try.

‘At least untie me.’

A.A. Catto almost spat at him from the doorway.

‘Take your chances.’

The Minstrel Boy sagged back into his corner again. He heard the lift gates clang shut and the mechanism grind into action. Eventually he heard it stop as the lift reached the top floor. A few moments later, the sound of gunfire echoed up the lift shaft. It sounded as though it came from the lobby.

***

Jeb Stuart Ho came carefully through the door of the Leader Hotel. The lobby was silent and deserted. The screen flickered in one corner, but no one was watching it. The drunks had all left. Someone had even turned off the sound. Just inside the doorway, Ho stopped. He felt the air, almost like an animal. It seemed heavy with tension. He turned and walked quietly to the desk. The clerk seemed to have abandoned his usual position. Jeb Stuart Ho leaned over the desk and looked down. The clerk was crouching on the floor. He looked fearfully at Ho.

‘I …’

‘Why are you kneeling on the floor?’

The clerk half rose.

‘I … I was looking for something. Something I dropped.’

‘Did you find it?’

‘Find what?’

‘The thing you were looking for. The thing you dropped.’

‘I … er … no. I didn’t. It must be somewhere else.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘That seems very likely.’

He took two paces away from the desk in the direction of the lift. The clerk sank behind the desk again. Ho stopped and wondered from which direction the ambush that had evidently been arranged for him would come. The most likely tactic for the assassins would be to remain hidden until he was almost by the lift, and then shoot him in the back. He knew that he would have to take a chance on being right. He pulled out his gun and sword. Slowly he bent his knees until he was almost crouching.

With a snap he launched himself into the air. The leap took him most of the way across the lobby. He landed on his feet just in front of the lift gates. He spun round. Two men with guns appeared from behind the battered furniture, on each side of the room. Jeb Stuart Ho flung out his arm. The gun exploded and the sword flashed from his hand. One hood spun into the wall as the bullet smashed into his chest. The other toppled forward and fell on his knees, desperately trying to pull the sword from his throat. As his gun hit the floor it went off. The shot carved a long furrow in the threadbare carpet.

With his arms still extended Jeb Stuart Ho slowly straightened up. The clerk emerged furtively from behind the desk. When he saw Jeb Stuart Ho and the two dead men, he turned even paler. Jeb Stuart Ho slowly let his arms drop. He walked to the man with the sword sticking out of his neck. Ho rolled the corpse over until it was lying on its back. He grasped the sword hilt with both hands, placed his foot on the body’s chest, and tugged. He picked a tattered cushion out of one of the chairs and carefully wiped the blade. He dropped the cushion and looked at the desk clerk.

‘Where is A.A. Catto?’

The desk clerk’s mouth worked desperately, but no words came. Jeb Stuart Ho started to walk towards him.

‘Where is A.A. Catto?’

The desk clerk found his voice.

‘Up on the fifth floor, but there’s more of them waiting for you.’

‘I see.’

Jeb Stuart Ho turned and peered up the dark lift shaft. He would be a sitting duck if he used the lift. He saw that a set of emergency stairs ran round the outside of the shaft. He would be safer using them. As he started up the first flight he turned back, and smiled sardonically at the white-faced desk clerk.

‘I hope you locate whatever you lost.’

He went up the first three floors very quickly, but as he approached the fourth he slowed down and took the stairs much more carefully. It would be foolish not to assume that another trap had been set for him. He stepped on to the fourth floor landing, ready to act at the slightest sound or movement. Nothing happened. Ho waited for a few moments and then moved silently towards the next set of steps. There would be men waiting at the top of the next flight.

There were eight steps in front of him. Then a right-angle turn and, if it was the same as the first four, another eight that led up to the fifth floor. Ho moved silently up to the turn, and stopped. Still nothing had happened. He looked up at the last eight steps. He took a firmer grip on his gun and sword. He put his foot on the first step. Nothing. He tried the second, the third and the fourth. Still there was no explosion of gunfire. Maybe the desk clerk had lied. Maybe there was no one lying in wait. Maybe A.A. Catto had fled the Leader Hotel altogether. He touched the fifth step. He moved to the sixth. As he placed his foot silently on the seventh step, there was the roar of a riot gun. The blast smashed lumps of plaster out of the wall above his head. He somersaulted backwards down the eight steps and landed on his feet at the turn in the stairs. A hail of needles gouged into the wall where he’d been standing just a fraction of a second before.

Jeb Stuart Ho crouched on the stair. On his hands and knees he edged his way forward, a centimetre at a time. The needles and the riot blast meant there were at least two gunmen waiting for him. At the sixth step he paused. He unstrapped the nanchuk from his arm, held one end at arm’s length, and quickly swung the other. It soared into the air, hit the far wall of the landing and clattered on the stone floor.

One riot blast hit the far wall, another smashed plaster from the wall beside the stairs, a burst of needles screamed, ricocheting through the steel cage of the lift shaft. Jeb Stuart Ho smiled grimly. There had to be three of them. The riot blasts were too close together and the angle of fire too great for them to have come from the same gun. For a fraction of a second one of the gunmen had emerged from cover to fire. It was one of the men with riot guns. He crouched in an open doorway. Jeb Stuart Ho could only see him when he leaned out to fire.

He waited patiently, crouching halfway up that last flight. Sure enough, a minute hardly passed before the man cautiously poked his head out and looked around. Jeb Stuart Ho snapped off a single shot. It smashed the man’s forehead and pitched him back inside the room. There was another riot blast, and another burst of needles. Each hit an opposite side of the stairs. Jeb Stuart Ho remained very still and thought carefully.

At each end of the fifth floor landing, a corridor led away to the various rooms. From the way their shots were hitting the wall, he decided that the two men must be somewhere in the corridor, positioned at opposite ends of the landing, maintaining a crossfire on the head of the stairs. While he stayed where he was they couldn’t hit him, but once he set foot on the landing, one at least would probably get a shot at him while he was dealing with the other. He couldn’t afford to waste time. It seemed he would have to take a chance on their reactions being slower than his.

Jeb Stuart Ho took a step backwards. He tensed himself. He flashed up the stairs and hit the landing. He leaped and, curling himself into a ball, he crashed into the far wall. The riot gun exploded. The bulk of the charge missed him. A few particles ripped through the fabric of his suit. He could feel blood running down his arm. He fired at the man from a crouch. The impact of the bullet flung him backwards down the corridor. He twitched a couple of times and lay still. Ho swung round to face the killer with the needle gun. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t shot at him. As he raised his gun he saw why. The riot blast that had been meant for Jeb Stuart Ho had caught the man squarely in the chest. He must have stood up to take aim and been caught in his partner’s fire. His body was almost cut in half. It lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. A grey fedora lay about a metre from the mutilated corpse.

Jeb Stuart Ho stood up cautiously. There were no more shots. It seemed as though there was nobody else lying in wait for him. He dropped his gun into its holster, and walked down the corridor. He still kept his sword in his hand. He stepped over the body, and looked inside the first room. It was empty. The door of the second was wide open. In one corner was a huddled figure. Its hands were tied behind its back. It looked up. Jeb Stuart Ho saw it was the Minstrel Boy. He lowered his sword. The Minstrel Boy grinned crookedly.

‘I was wondering when you’d get here.’

Jeb Stuart Ho sheathed his sword and stood looking down at the Minstrel Boy. His face was grim.

‘Where is A.A. Catto?’

‘She’s gone.’

‘Gone? How?’

‘She rented an airship. They left from the roof. They must have got well away by now.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s jaw muscles tightened, but otherwise he showed no sign of the anger and frustration that welled up inside him. The Minstrel Boy struggled to sit up.

‘Aren’t you going to untie me?’

Jeb Stuart Ho didn’t move. A thought had just struck him. The Minstrel Boy’s voice took on a querulous edge.

‘Come on, Killer. Don’t just stand there, untie me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stared hard at him.

‘It must have been you who informed them where I was.’

The Minstrel Boy adopted a look of pained surprise.

‘Who, me?’

‘It could only have been you.’

‘How would I know where you were?’

‘You must have used your credit card. I can think of no other way.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘I could check with the bank.’

Jeb Stuart Ho moved towards the vid set. The Minstrel Boy sighed.

‘Okay, okay. It was me. I found you through the bank.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked coldly at him.

‘So you changed sides.’

‘Does it look as though I changed sides? Would I be lying here tied up if I changed sides?’

‘You told them where I was.’

‘So? Who says I changed sides? Who says I was on your side in the first place? You forced me to guide you at gunpoint. That don’t mean I owe you anything.’

‘They threw a bomb into an eating house. A number of people were killed.’

The Minstrel Boy’s mouth set in a stubborn line.

‘So? What could I do? They beat me up. They would have killed me if I hadn’t told, them. I never asked to get involved in your private wars, and no way am I responsible for any bystanders who get in the way. Now, are you going to untie me or not?’

Jeb Stuart Ho reluctantly pulled one of his knives from the sheath on his arm and sliced through the Minstrel Boy’s bond. He stood up and began massaging the circulation back into his wrists. Ho put away his knife, and walked slowly out of the room. The Minstrel Boy paused for a moment, and then followed him. As he was about to start down the stairs, something on one of the bodies on the landing caught his eye. Around its waist was his knife belt. He walked over to the body, bent down and retrieved it. He strapped the belt round his own hips and followed Jeb Stuart Ho down to the lobby.

When they reached the ground floor, Chief-Agent Bannion and a squad of LDC patrolmen were waiting. Bannion stared at Jeb Stuart Ho with his hands clasped behind his back. The ever-present cigar was clamped between his teeth.

‘You just can’t stop, can you?’

Jeb Stuart Ho inclined his head.

‘The trials that beset us are as numerous as the flowers that bloom.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what besets you, brother. It’s the way you beset me that I care about. You are giving me ulcers.’

‘A careful diet might correct that.’

Bannion began to turn crimson.

‘Don’t get wise with me, buster. There’s two men dead here. The desk clerk says you killed them.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shrugged.

‘Didn’t he also tell you that they were trying to kill me?’

Bannion began to pace up and down. Finally he stopped in front of Ho. He thrust his face very close to Ho’s.

‘Your score so far is nine dead, including the five we pulled out of the burger joint.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him calmly.

‘There are three more upstairs.’

Bannion looked as though he might haemorrhage.

‘Divine Marquis give me patience. I suppose you’re going to claim that was self-defence.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘That is correct.’

The Minstrel Boy began to edge towards the door. Bannion saw him out of the corner of his eye and swung round.

‘You! You hold it right there!’

‘Who, me?’

‘Yes, you. You’re mixed up in this somewhere.’

The Minstrel Boy became a picture of innocence.

‘Not me, mister Chief-Agent, sir. I was just passing through.’

Bannion snarled. He looked ugly.

‘Bullshit. You arrived in town with this maniac, and he paid you with a credit card. Right?’

‘I was only a guide. He forced me to lead him here.’

‘Okay then. You can just lead him away again. You’re both being expelled from the city. If you’re still here in one hour, my men will shoot you on sight.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s face became set.

‘I have a task to complete.’

Bannion’s eyes narrowed.

‘I don’t give a fuck about your mission, you’re leaving town.’

Suddenly he seemed to relax. He half grinned.

‘Anyway, A.A. Catto’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘That’s right, gone. Much as it hurts me to give you any assistance at all, she’s left town. She’s in a rented airship. It’s passed the city limits and is heading for the nothings. So go. You hear me? Go!’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘I hear you.’ Bannion pointed at the Minstrel Boy.

‘And take him with you.’

The Minstrel Boy’s eyebrows shot up.

‘I ain’t going with him. I’ll leave town, but I ain’t going with him.’

Bannion grabbed the lapels of his frock coat.

‘Oh yes you are.’

‘Why? Why have I got to go with him?’

‘So you can lead him to A.A. Catto, and I can be sure he won’t get lost and come back here. Okay?’

‘I’m damned if it’s okay. I don’t mind leaving town. I’ve been thrown out of better towns than this, but him, I ain’t no way going with him.’

Bannion tightened his grip on the Minstrel Boy’s jacket.

‘Oh yes you are.’

The Minstrel Boy tried to pull away.

‘Listen, take your hands off me. You got it all wrong. Shit, I couldn’t even help him if I wanted to. I can’t track people through the nothings. It’s just not possible.’

Bannion pushed the Minstrel Boy forcibly away. He staggered back across the lobby. He was fielded by two patrolmen who held him while Bannion sauntered towards him.

‘You’re a goddamn liar.’

The Minstrel Boy paled.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean.’

The Minstrel Boy began to struggle.

‘You can’t do it. You can’t do it to me.’

Bannion smiled nastily.

‘I can. I’ll do anything to make sure you two get out and stay out.’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head desperately.

‘You wouldn’t do that.’

‘I would.’

Jeb Stuart Ho interrupted. He looked puzzled.

‘I don’t understand. What are you two talking about?’

Bannion turned to Ho. His grin became meaner and wider.

‘He can follow A.A. Catto anywhere.’

The Minstrel Boy’s voice became hysterical.

‘No I can’t.’

One of the patrolmen twisted his arm, and the Minstrel Boy shut up. Bannion went on.

‘Any guide can get a fix on a single individual, provided you keep him shot full of cyclatrol. It gives them some kind of overall vision. Don’t ask me how it works, but it does.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stroked his chin. He looked at the Minstrel Boy.

‘Is this true?’

Sweat had broken out on his forehead. He shook his head.

‘No, no, it’s all lies. Nothing like that … argh!’

One of the patrolmen had twisted his arm again. He subsided.

‘Yes, it’s true …’

His voice rose again.

‘… But it could kill me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at Bannion questioningly.

‘Is this true? Will the drug kill him?’

Bannion shrugged.

‘It might. But it’s not all that likely. He could go mad.’

Ho nodded.

‘I suppose we’ll have to take the chance.’

The Minstrel Boy began to struggle violently with the men holding him.

‘No! No! You can’t do this to me!’

Bannion swung round angrily.

‘Shut him up.’

One of the patrolmen tapped the Minstrel Boy sharply across the back of the head with the butt of his nightstick. The Minstrel Boy slumped forward. Bannion turned back to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I’m taking you down to headquarters. I’ll fix you up with transport for the nothings, supplies and the drugs for him.’

He jerked his thumb towards the Minstrel Boy who hung limply between the two patrolmen. Jeb Stuart Ho ran his fingers through his hair.

‘There’s no alternative choice?’

Bannion shook his head.

‘You’ve got no choice at all. I’d still rather have you quietly shot.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed.

‘I suppose I should thank you for this help with my task.’

Bannion’s lip curled.

‘Save it. It’s going to cost the brotherhood a fortune.’

He signalled to the squad of patrolmen. They bundled Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy out of the hotel lobby, across the sidewalk and into the back of a patrolcar. Around them, the camera crews and sightseers were already starting to crowd round the entrance of the Leader Hotel.

***

A.A. Catto sat back in one of the small gilt chairs that were arranged round the edge of the airship’s small ballroom. The entire place was furnished in gold and red plush. A cluster of small spotlights played on the dark mirror of the dance floor. On a small dais a string quartet played muted chamber music. A.A. Catto sighed. After the fear and tension of the last few hours she felt totally drained. Exhaustion made her avoid thinking about what she should do next.

Billy, Reave and Lame Nancy stood in the small observation platform that opened off the ballroom like a tiny terrace. It was totally enclosed in elaborately worked stained glass that threw patterns of colour over them as they stared down at the receding lights of the city beneath them. They all seemed to be avoiding looking at her. It was clear that they were waiting for her to make some kind of decision. She knew it was necessary, but somehow she just couldn’t do it. She hated doing things out of necessity. She was able to act instantly on whim, but since this nightmare of crazy assassins had started her old life seemed to have vanished. It all seemed so unfair. She raised a limp hand, and a white-coated steward was instantly at her side.

‘Yes, Miss Catto?’

‘I want a drink.’

‘We have a fully comprehensive bar.’

‘Can you make me a Doric column?’

‘I’m sure our bartender can make it. He holds a triple A proficiency rating.’

‘He’d better do it right.’

‘I’m sure he will, Miss Catto.’

She closed her eyes as he hurried away. She opened them moments later when she heard a discreet cough. She thought it was the waiter with her drink, but she found herself looking at the pale blue uniform and gold braid of the airship’s captain. He stood at attention with his white peaked cap clutched under his arm. His face was set in an expression of competent neutrality.

‘Miss Catto.’

A.A. Catto raised an eyebrow.

‘What?’

‘I still haven’t had any details of your proposed flight.’

‘So?’

‘We’ve passed the city limits, and need to know what course you want me to set.’

A.A. Catto looked round the ballroom.

‘I ordered a drink. It hasn’t come yet.’

The captain glanced across the ballroom.

‘I’m sure the steward will be along in a moment. Now about the course …’

A.A. Catto’s temper flashed.

‘Bugger the course. I want my drink.’

The captain compressed his lips slightly, and marched quickly across the ballroom. Billy, Reave and Nancy were by now standing at the top of the steps that led to the observation platform, watching the exchange. A few moments later the captain returned followed by a flustered-looking steward.

‘Here is your drink, Miss Catto.’

The steward placed a tall crystal glass in front of A.A. Catto. Beneath a head of crushed ice, the liquid was pale pink. Halfway down it changed to red and finally in the bottom of the glass it was a deep purple. A.A. Catto picked it up and swirled it round once. The ice tinkled. She sipped it, and put it down.

‘I suppose it will do.’

The steward bowed and scuttled away. The captain drew himself up to his full height. With his neatly trimmed beard and rigidly controlled paunch he was every inch the figure of tolerant authority. He cleared his throat.

‘About the course, Miss Catto. I really must insist you make a decision.’

A.A. Catto looked at him with frank dislike. If there were three things she detested, they were authority figures, people who found it necessary to clear their throats before speaking and people who insisted she do things. She ran her finger round the rim of the glass. It made a faint singing sound.

‘I think I want to go into the nothings.’

The captain’s eyes widened.

‘The nothings?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘It can’t be done.’

A.A. Catto began to get impatient.

‘I was under the impression that I had hired this craft, and that you would take it wherever I requested.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Well, I’m requesting you to take the damn thing into the nothings.’

The captain took a deep breath.

‘That’s absolutely out of the question. This ship isn’t equipped for that kind of journey.’

‘That’s the kind of journey I wish to make.’

The captain spoke very slowly as though he was talking to a retarded child.

‘If this ship enters the nothings it will disintegrate. It carries no generator of its own. It will be destroyed.’

A.A. Catto looked up at him.

‘You carry a set of personal generators, don’t you? Porta-pacs or something similar?’

The captain nodded.

‘Yes, but that’s beside the point. I’m not going to take my ship to certain destruction in the nothings. I hope I make myself clear.’

‘You refuse?’

‘Absolutely.’

A.A. Catto nodded. She slowly turned and looked at the group by the observation platform.

‘Billy, could you come over here for a minute?’

Billy sauntered across the dance; floor. He glanced enquiringly at A.A. Catto.

‘Trouble?’

A.A. Catto looked hard at the captain.

‘Billy, do you have your gun with you?’

Billy nodded. He was a little confused. He pulled a .70 recoilless from under his coat.

‘I got a gun.’

A.A. Catto relaxed in her chair.

‘Would you point it at the captain?’

Billy shrugged and did as he was asked. The captain put on his cap and came to formal attention.

‘You realize that by this act of violence you have voided your hiring contract and I have no alternative but to return to the bridge and order this ship to return to the company’s docking mast.’

A.A. Catto laughed.

‘God, you’re pompous.’

‘I can only repeat …’

‘Shut up and listen. If you don’t immediately take this contraption into the nothings, Billy will shoot you. ‘Won’t you, Billy?’

Billy swallowed.

‘Um … yes.’

The captain remained at attention.

‘I’ll do no such thing.’

A.A. Catto looked at Billy.

‘Shoot him.’

Billy looked at A.A. Catto, at the captain and then down at the gun. He tried to think of a way out. There didn’t seem to be one. He pulled the trigger. The captain was knocked across the dance floor. He died without a sound. The string quartet stopped playing, but started again, rather uncoordinatedly, when Billy turned in their direction.

A.A. Catto briskly stood up. She beckoned to Nancy and Reave.

‘I think we’d better go to the bridge and take control of this machine. It would seem you can’t get anywhere leaving things to other people.’

They left the ballroom and started down one of the companionways that traversed the length of the airship’s gondola. As they walked, Billy fell into step beside A.A. Catto.

‘Do you think this is such a good idea?’

‘Is what such a good idea?’

‘Shooting the captain and pushing the ship into the nothings?’

‘You shot the captain.’

Billy looked down at the deck.

‘Yes, I suppose I did.’

‘Damn right you did. You’re as responsible as anyone.’

Billy felt a little sick. Any ideas of morality seemed to be slipping away. He glanced sideways at A.A. Catto.

‘But what about this going into the nothings? I’ve fallen into the nothings with just a porta-pac. It’s no fun. You don’t have any control over where you finish up.’

‘But you finish up somewhere.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well then.’

‘I still don’t like it. We could land in a lot of trouble, and there’s nothing we can do about it.’

‘Do you have a better idea?’

‘No.’

‘Could I be in any more trouble than I was in in Litz?’

Billy shook his head.

‘I suppose not.’

‘Then there’s nothing really to discuss, is there?’

Billy didn’t say anything more. He followed A.A. Catto up the steel steps that led to the bridge. He slid back the steel door and they stepped into the airship’s control room. The front of the bridge was a single sheet of plexiglass. The rest of the walls were covered with various control monitors. Three officers in blue uniforms were grouped round an illuminated chart table. Behind them, staring fixedly through the plexiglass windshield, was a steersman in a white sailor suit. His hands gripped the big polished wheel that controlled the rudder, and beside him were the levers that set the angle of climb or descent. The officers looked up sharply as A.A. Catto and her four companions came through the door. One of them, who from the amount of gold braid on his uniform seemed to be second in command after the captain, moved to head them off.

‘I’m sorry. Clients are not permitted on the bridge. It’s a company rule.’

A.A. Catto smiled.

‘I’m afraid company rules no longer apply. I’ve just had your captain shot.’

The officer stopped dead.

‘You did what?’

A.A. Catto continued to smile at him.

‘I had the captain shot, and I’m taking this ship into the nothings.’

The two other officers joined the first one.

‘That’s impossible. You’ll destroy it.’

A.A. Catto stopped smiling.

‘I tried to explain to your captain. I intend going into the nothings, and no one’s going to stop me. Can you understand?’

She turned to Billy.

‘Show them your gun.’

Billy pulled out his gun again. The three officers took a step back. The first one raised his hand.

‘Don’t shoot.’

Billy continued to point the gun at him. A.A. Catto looked him straight in the eye.

‘Are you going to do what you’re told?’

The officers stood together by the chart table. The senior one licked his lips.

‘I assume you’re taking over the ship by force.’

A.A. Catto clapped her hands together. It was an oddly childish gesture.

‘At last we’re getting through. Now, will you instruct the driver, or whatever he is, to take us into the nothings?’

‘You realize this is an act of piracy?’

A.A. Catto shrugged.

‘Call it what you like, only do it.’

The officer muttered for a moment with his two companions and then turned back to A.A. Catto.

‘I’ve gone on record as registering my strongest protest against your criminal acts. Beyond that I’ll follow your instructions.’

‘Then set a course for the nothings.’

The officer bent over the table and consulted a chart. A.A. Catto waited tensely. Finally he straightened up and looked at the man behind the wheel.

‘Steer one zero seven,’

‘One zero seven, sir.’

‘Steady as she goes.’

‘Aye, sir.’

The first officer looked sourly back at A.A. Catto.

‘Will that be all?’

A.A. Catto thought for a moment.

‘We’ll need porta-pacs when we hit the nothings.’

The officer scowled.

‘They’re in the wall locker.’

He indicated with his hand. Nancy opened the locker. Inside was a rack of small individual stasis generators. She took out four and handed them round. They slung them over their shoulders. There seemed to be nothing else to do until the airship hit the nothings. After all the high drama, the whole thing slipped into an anticlimactic trough. It became very quiet on the bridge. The officers went about their routine tasks, doing their best to ignore the four hijackers. The steersman stared resolutely ahead. Billy began to feel a little foolish as he stood there holding his gun. Finally, A.A. Catto could stand it no longer. She caught the eye of the first officer.

‘Could you get a steward up here?’

He reddened a little.

‘A steward?’

A.A. Catto nodded.

‘That’s right, a steward. My friends and I would like some drinks, and maybe a snack of some kind.’

The first officer began to inflate with indignation.

‘Am I to understand that you want to turn my bridge into some sort of cafeteria?’

‘Yes. Why not? We’re going to wreck it shortly, so I don’t see how a little change in your routine would matter.’

The first officer grabbed a hand mike off the chart table as though he was going to hit A.A. Catto with it, then he checked himself and bellowed into it.

‘Get a steward to the bridge. On the double.’

The drinks, when they came, didn’t really help too much.

A.A. Catto, Billy, Reave and Nancy formed their own four-person cocktail party, which, if anything, made them feel even more self-conscious. The crew of the airship went on pointedly ignoring them.

The presence of A.A. Catto and the others couldn’t be ignored for ever. A thin strip of blue-grey light appeared on the horizon. It looked like a strange cold dawn. In fact, it was the nothings. Gradually it rolled nearer. It was like a growing wall of sparkling cloud. The airship drifted closer and closer. The first officer straightened up and faced A.A. Catto.

‘Are you sure you won’t call off this madness?’

A.A. Catto tapped her fingernails on the porta-pac. She switched it on. The others did the same.

‘There’s no other way. Keep going, or Billy here will shoot you.’

Billy tightened his grip on the gun. His stomach started to knot. He hated the nothings and the things they did to his mind. The steersman turned to the first officer.

‘We’ll hit the nothings any minute, sir.’

The first officer looked as though he was about to panic. He moved towards A.A. Catto.

‘Won’t you let me change course before we’re all disrupted?’

Billy stepped between them and levelled his gun at the first officer’s chest.

‘Hold it right there.’

The officer halted. There were dark patches of sweat under the armpits of his uniform.

‘At least let me issue the crew with porta-pacs and give the order to abandon ship.’

Billy looked at A.A. Catto.

‘It can’t do any harm.’

A.A. Catto thought for a moment.

‘Yes, yes. Give the order, but don’t attempt to alter course.’

The officer swung round to the steersman.

‘Lock on present heading, break out a porta-pac and prepare to abandon ship.’

The steersman saluted and hurried to the locker that held the personal stasis generators. He clipped one to his belt and stood waiting. The officers began to do the same. The first officer picked up the hand mike.

‘Attention all crew. Now hear this. This is an emergency. I repeat, this is an emergency. We are entering the nothings. All crew will break out porta-pacs and prepare to abandon ship. Good luck to you all.’

He repeated the message and then clipped a generator to his own belt. He came to attention, and A.A. Catto giggled. The wall of sparkling, shifting light was almost upon them. Suddenly Billy turned to the other three.

‘It might be a good idea if we held on to each other. That way, we have a chance of coming out of the nothings in the same place.’

Nancy’s face grew tight.

‘If we come out.’

They linked hands. Above them, the front of the gas bag smoked and began to vanish as it nosed its way into the nothings. The plexiglass vanished as its fabric was scattered into time and space. The front half of the cabin vanished. The wall of mist reached the four of them clinging together. Concepts like up and down melted away. They were swallowed in the shifting grey and roaring silence. They seemed to be falling in all directions at once.

***

They injected the Minstrel Boy with the maximum dose of cyclatrol. Afterwards his eyes glazed over and he began to scream. He screamed non-stop for two hours. They had to shut him in a sub-basement cell until he stopped. Bannion wouldn’t let him leave the LDC building until he’d calmed down. Bannion was very sensitive about accusations of police brutality. In the meantime he and Jeb Stuart Ho concluded a deal whereby Chief-Agent Bannion on behalf of the Litz Department of Correction would sell the brotherhood a lightweight armoured car that would enable Jeb Stuart Ho to pursue A.A. Catto. The Litz Department of Correction charged a grossly inflated price, which Jeb Stuart Ho paid after a polite period of ritual haggling.

When the Minstrel Boy finally became quiet, two patrolmen brought him up from the depths of the lock-ups. They had to support him on either side. His movements were uncoordinated, his eyes were vacant and his mouth hung open, Jeb Stuart Ho was alarmed at his condition.

‘How can he lead me anywhere like that?’

Bannion smiled and tapped the side of his noise with his forefinger.

‘He’ll do what you want.’

‘Yes. Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure. You’ll see.’

Bannion ordered the car brought round to the front of the building. He and Jeb Stuart Ho went out to inspect it. It was a squat, ugly, square-sided machine. It had long armoured engine housing, and a small three-seat cab. The windscreen and side windows were mere slits of toughened glass, and the whole vehicle was covered in dull grey, bullet-proof steel. It was supported on six balloon-tyred wheels, four at the rear and two at the front. Bannion opened the passenger door.

‘Get in.’

Jeb Stuart Ho was confused.

‘Surely I will have to drive the machine?’

‘Just get in.’

Jeb Stuart Ho got in. Bannion signalled to the patrolmen who were holding the Minstrel Boy just inside the building. They hurried down the steps. Bannion opened the driver’s door. They pushed the Minstrel Boy inside and strapped him in. He hung there with his mouth half open. Bannion poked his head in the window beside Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Okay. Tell him what you want.’

Ho looked dubiously at the slack-jawed Minstrel Boy.

‘Will he understand?’

‘Just tell him.’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a deep breath.

‘We have to pursue and catch A.A. Catto.’

The Minstrel Boy didn’t respond. Bannion grinned at Ho.

‘Tell him to drive.’

Jeb Stuart Ho felt a little ridiculous. He couldn’t imagine what kind of obscure joke Bannion was attempting to involve him in. He raised his voice a little,

‘You will start the car and drive.’

Like a man in a dream, the Minstrel Boy placed his hands on the wheel. Bannion withdrew his head. The Minstrel Boy put on the power. The engine came to life. The Minstrel Boy dumped it into gear with a crash. The car lurched forward. They swerved drunkenly away from the kerb. Bannion laughed. They began to pick up speed. Bannion yelled after them.

‘Don’t come back.’

The drive through the traffic of downtown Litz was like a drawn-out suicide bid. A dozen times Jeb Stuart Ho could see no way out of a fatal collision, but at the very last minute the Minstrel Boy somehow managed to avoid disaster. As they had begun to move, his jaws had clamped together and he appeared to stare fixedly along the length of the bonnet. Jeb Stuart Ho wasn’t certain whether he could actually see, or whether he was steering the car by some other sense produced by the cyclatrol. On a comparatively clear stretch of road, Jeb Stuart Ho looked in the glove compartment to check that the little black case of refills of the drug was still there. It was.

When Bannion had given it to him, he’d told Jeb Stuart Ho to give the Minstrel Boy a shot every twelve hours. He hadn’t told him how long the Minstrel Boy would survive under those conditions.

At last, to Jeb Stuart Ho’s relief, they emerged from the city traffic and swung on to one of the wide straight roads that radiated out from Litz to the edge of the nothings. There was almost no traffic, apart from the occasional wheelfreak’s truck that flashed past, blazing with lights. Ho felt that he could relax a little. The Minstrel Boy had manoeuvred the car into the middle of the highway. He held it there with one limp hand.

Jeb Stuart Ho looked carefully at the Minstrel Boy. It was hard to know, apart from the tightly clenched jaws, whether he was really conscious. Even with all his training, Ho found it difficult to visualize what was going on in his mind. Ho was taken by surprise when the Minstrel Boy made a sudden move. His hand flashed down to a part of the control panel between the seats. Harsh metallic music blared from a set of speakers fitted in the back of the cab. In the confined space it made Jeb Stuart Ho’s head ring. He shouted to the Minstrel Boy.

‘Does it have to be so loud?’

The Minstrel Boy gave no indication that he had heard him. He continued to stare blankly through the windshield. Jeb Stuart Ho stretched out a hand to adjust the volume control. Without warning the Minstrel Boy slapped his hand away. He didn’t take his eyes off the road. Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing and settled back to endure it.

They were reaching the limits of the Litz generators. Circular holes filled with grey nothing started to appear in the road in front of them. The Minstrel Boy pressed the control that activated the car’s own stasis generator. He made no attempt to avoid any of the holes, but continued to hold the car steady in the very centre of the road, at just under maximum speed. The car began to bump and lurch as though its own stasis field was unable to produce an approximation of a flat surface beneath the car, but only the reading on the speedometer and the constant bucking and lurching gave any indication that they were moving at all. The razor-sharp music pounded on, and Jeb Stuart Ho began to perform the preliminary exercises to close down his mind. The Minstrel Boy’s face still showed no sign of life.

In many ways, this trip through the nothings was very similar to the lizard ride they had made to Litz. Ho’s sense of time quickly began to ebb away. He had to keep glancing at the dashboard to grasp some kind of orientation. The chronometer was little help. In many ways it increased his confusion. Sometimes the digits would flip over at a rate that made it unreadable. Other times a single figure would hang for what seemed like hours. Similar things happened to the music. It would alternately hammer frenetically and then lurch sideways in howling cadences. He was sorely tempted to seek refuge in an intermediate trance, but the constant sight of the transformed Minstrel Boy beside him kept him firmly in the material world inside the car.

It was around the point when the chronometer was telling him that they’d been in the nothings for just over four hours that things started to appear. First it was the white dog with black nose and ears. It jerked its paw at them in a hitch-hiking gesture, and then, through the rear window, Jeb Stuart Ho could see it cursing them from the distance after the Minstrel Boy had failed to stop. Next came the billboards, huge illuminated signs that appeared to stand on nothing. Floodlights blazed down on them, making it impossible to miss the slogans in strange, unreadable, alien script. Jeb Stuart Ho wondered if they were real objects or hallucinations. He was at a loss to tell. There was too much about the nothings that he didn’t know.

After seven hours they hit the road. It just appeared out of the shifting greyness, exactly under their wheels. It was a dark blue colour, and ran dead straight for as far as the eye could see. Tiny red and green marker lights lined its outer edges. Beyond them was the absolute shimmering grey. Jeb Stuart Ho held on to his mind with meticulous care. The awful music wailed on, punctuated by wrenching cast iron power chords. Nothing else moved on the road, and it seemed to have no end.

The chronometer claimed they were nine and three quarter hours out of Litz. Jeb Stuart Ho was just wondering if it was safe to give the Minstrel Boy another shot of cyclatrol, when he began to slow the car. He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. In a strange kind of way, it seeped to Ho that the Minstrel Boy was cooperating with the plan. He reached into the glove compartment and took out the black case. He fitted a refill into the injector, pushed up the Minstrel Boy’s sleeve and pressed the release. There was a faint hiss as the cyclatrol was forced through the pores of his skin. This time he only screamed for thirty-five minute.

When he calmed down, he seemed to need no instructions. He started the engine, made the same violent gear change and continued on down the road.

The lines of lights flashed past in a continuous stream. The road was absolutely smooth. The Minstrel Boy kept the car rock steady in the middle of the road. Jeb Stuart Ho avoided looking out of the narrow window. Despite all his training, the grey shimmer of the nothings made him uneasy. It disturbed the sense of order that was so much a part of his life in the brotherhood.

Jeb Stuart Ho felt closer to the edge of his control than he had ever been during all his years of rigorous instruction. The blue road was so smooth that there was no sense of movement at all. Time seemed to stop. The lights formed themselves into solid strips of red and green. The silent staring presence of the Minstrel Boy, and the clanging music combined with all the other factors to push Jeb Stuart Ho towards a wild, twisting part of his mind that he had never experienced before. It took all his powers of discipline to resist plunging into that chaos.

Just as he was beginning to feel that his strength was about to give out, something appeared ahead. It was far down the road, but it was coming towards them, and it instantly restored the concepts of time and space. At first it was only a tiny point of light in the extreme distance, but Jeb Stuart Ho felt himself filled with an immediate sense of relief.

***

They came out of the nothings in midair. It was as though the falling sensation that had been wrenching at Billy’s stomach ever since the airship had disintegrated, was all channelled in a single direction. In a moment of panic he thought he was going to fall to his death. Then the ground rushed up and knocked the breath out of him. The drop had been less than four metres. He landed awkwardly, on hard stony ground. One of his knees twisted under him. As he tried to stand, it hurt like hell. He sank to his knees cursing.

On the second attempt, Billy managed to stay on his feet. He looked around to see where he had landed. The bare hillside wasn’t terribly impressive. It fell away at a steep angle. The bare earth was sparsely covered here and there with patches of bracken and short wiry grass. There were wide expanses of bare rock.

Billy couldn’t see very far. Everything but the immediate piece of sloping ground that he had landed on was shrouded in damp, clinging fog. His city boy, pimp clothes were totally unsuited for both the terrain and climate. Already the thin, sparkling material felt cold and clammy. He cursed again, and hugged his jacket tighter round his shoulders. It seemed that he had fallen into some very dismal place.

He wondered what had happened to the others. They had all been together in the nothings, but he had lost them when they’d dropped into the reality of the bleak hillside. According to everything Billy had experienced, they should have all emerged at the same point. He wondered if they might be on another part of the same hillside, hidden by the fog. He strained his eyes to penetrate the drifting grey blanket, but he still could see nothing.

He shivered and stamped his feet. If he didn’t do something fairly fast he would die of pneumonia. He wondered if he should go and look for them, or stay in the same place and let them find him. It was a problem. He couldn’t be absolutely sure that they had all landed near to the same spot. He was still wondering what to do, when he saw a familiar figure limping through the mist. Billy called out.

‘Hey! Hey, Reave! Over here.’

The figure turned and started coming towards him. Reave was noticeably favouring one foot, as though his ankle was giving him pain. Silly hurried to meet him.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I came out of the nothings some way above the ground. I didn’t land too good. I guess I twisted my ankle.’

‘It ain’t broken or nothing?’

Reave shook his head.

‘No, but it hurts. You seen anything of the others?’

‘Not a sign.’

‘Any idea where we are?’

Billy shrugged.

‘How the fuck should I know?’

‘We could have picked a better place.’

Billy scowled.

‘So who picked it?’

They both stood in silence for a while, each waiting for the other to suggest something. Finally Reave shivered.

‘Do you figure we should build a fire or something?’

Billy looked at him contemptuously, and waved his hand at the scanty, dripping wet vegetation.

‘With what?’

Reave sniffed.

‘It was just an idea.’

‘Some idea.’

‘You think of something better?’

Billy sighed.

‘Okay, okay. Just wait a while. Something’ll turn up.’

Reave looked dubious.

‘You reckon? It looks like we really … aargh!’

He clamped his hand to his neck. His face contorted with pain. Billy looked at him in alarm.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s this goddamn collar. A.A. Catto must be trying to find us.’

‘Do you think she’s nearby?’

Reave nodded.

‘She must be. The link doesn’t work over a really long distance.’

‘Maybe she’d hear us if we started yelling.’

‘It’s worth a try. It might stop her using her ring on me.’

Billy and Reave both began to shout at the top of their voices. After a while they stopped to listen. Nothing happened. The fog seemed to muffle out all sound. They tried again. When they paused a second time, Billy thought he heard faint shouts. They began to yell as loud as they could. They at least had the consolation that the activity was keeping them warm. They paused for a third time. Billy was sure he could hear faint sounds. He turned to Reave.

‘You hear that?’

‘What?’

‘I thought I heard voices.’

Reave listened.

‘I don’t hear nothing.’

Billy craned forward.

‘Yeah. Listen. There it is again. I’m sure it must be the others.’

He started yelling at the top of his lungs.

‘Hey, hey, over here.’

Even Reave could hear the answering shouts. After a few minutes of yelling they saw two figures begin to emerge from the mist. It was A.A. Catto and Nancy. They both looked cold and wet. Nancy was limping badly and A.A. Catto supported her on one arm. Their thin, revealing city clothes were obviously no protection against the vicious climate. Reave fingered his collar nervously. A.A. Catto looked as though she was in an evil temper. She walked slowly up to the two men.

‘Where in hell are we?’

Billy and Reave looked at each other. Billy shrugged.

‘Don’t have a clue.’

A.A. Catto scowled and said nothing. Nancy hugged her arms to her chest and shivered.

‘We got to get out of this goddamn place before we freeze to death.’

Billy nodded.

‘That’s for sure.’

Reave squatted down and rubbed at his damaged ankle.

‘So where do we go?’

A.A. Catto looked down at him in contempt.

‘Can’t you ever think for yourself?’

‘I don’t see you coming up with too many ideas.’

A.A. Catto’s eyes blazed.

‘Don’t talk to me like that!’

She twisted her ring savagely. Reave screamed and fell on his side kicking. Nancy grabbed her by the shoulders, but A.A. Catto pushed her roughly away. Nancy stumbled and fell over Reave. Billy grabbed A.A. Catto by this wrist and held on to her while she struggled and hit at him.

‘Hold it, damn you. Just take it easy.’

‘Take your hands off me, or I’ll kill you.’

‘You ain’t killing anyone. Calm down now. We’re all in this together. Fighting ain’t going to help us.’

A.A. Catto relaxed into sullen silence. Billy let go of her. He helped Nancy to her feet.

‘Okay, let’s try and get organized. We got to get out of here.’

Nancy tried unavailingly to brush the mud stains from her damp jump suit.

‘Did we manage to save anything useful from the airship?’

Billy patted his jacket.

‘I seem to have lost my gun in the fall.’

A.A. Catto sneered.

‘Typical.’

Billy turned on her.

‘What have you got?’

‘My credit card.’

Billy looked at the ground.

‘I don’t think that’s going to be a whole lot of use in this place.’

Nancy grinned.

‘I’ve got my gun.’

Reave climbed to his feet.

‘I’ve got mine too, and a gravity knife.’

Billy looked round.

‘How about food?’

‘Nothing.’

A.A. Catto grimaced.

‘I suppose nobody has any drugs?’

Everyone shook his head. A.A. Catto pouted sullenly.

‘You all realize I’m going to start coming down in a while?’

Nancy raised an eyebrow.

‘What do you expect?’

Billy quickly intervened before another fight erupted.

‘We ought to decide which way we’re going to go.’

Nancy shrugged.

‘I figure it’s either up or down.’

‘Down ought to be warmer.’

‘Down it is then.’

A.A. Catto shivered.

‘Can we get moving?’

Billy hesitated. A.A. Catto looked at him in exasperation.

‘I think I can hear something.’

‘Rubbish, I can’t hear a thing.’

She started to walk down the hillside. Billy didn’t move.

‘I’m sure I can hear something. It’s a kind of hum. Really high pitched, almost beyond the range of hearing. It’s hard to be sure but I think whatever’s causing it is coming nearer.’

Nancy nodded.

‘I can hear it too.’

A.A. Catto stopped and planted her hands on her hips.

‘Are we moving or aren’t we?’

Before anyone could respond, her question was answered by a reedy mechanical voice.

‘You-will-stay-exactly-as-you-are!’

Three grey steel spheres floated out of the mist. They were about a third of a metre in diameter, and hung some two metres above the ground. A dull black disc was set in the side of each one. The disc moved as the sphere slowly rotated. It was as though the disc was some kind of sensor device and the spheres were scanning the four humans. The surprise at their sudden appearance was so great that nobody moved or spoke. Billy felt as though all his willpower was being drained away.

One of the spheres moved silently away from the other two. It circled A.A. Catto and began gently to shepherd her back towards her companions. She too seemed to have been drained of all will to resist.

Once the spheres had the humans herded together in one tight group, they surrounded them in a triangle formation. The black discs stared implacably down at the four people. Nobody spoke or moved. The voice came again.

‘It-is-necessary-that-we-search-you.’

Billy couldn’t tell whether it came from one single sphere, or all three. A small circular slot opened in the base of each sphere and a steel tentacle snaked out of it. The tentacles extended towards the humans and moved slowly over their bodies, as though inspecting them. Billy stood horrified as the cold steel probe slid into his pockets and under his clothes. Then they began removing things from the group. They took Billy’s timepiece, his cigar lighter and small tri-di cube of a couple screwing that he kept as a good luck charm. They took Nancy’s and Reave’s guns and an electronic doorkey from A.A. Catto. They took everyone’s portable generator. They also took off her ring, and removed Reave’s collar. He had always thought it was permanently locked, but at a single touch from one of the sphere’s tentacles, it just fell open. The various objects were placed carefully together on the ground. The voice came again.

‘These-objects-are-proscribed-in-this-area. It-is-necessary-to-remove-and-destroy-them.’

One of the spheres emitted a thin beam of bright blue light from a point on its underside. It played over the objects on the ground. After a few seconds, they smoked and vanished. The spheres formed themselves into their original formation and silently drifted away into the mist. Billy slowly turned to the other three. His face had gone slack.

‘Did that really happen?’

Nancy nodded.

‘I think so.’

A.A. Catto looked round helplessly.

‘Why did they take all our things? We had little enough to start with. Now we’ve got nothing.’

Billy frowned.

‘They didn’t take our clothes.’

Reave fished in his pocket and pulled out his gravity knife.

‘They missed this.’

He snapped it open. When he came to close it, however, the mechanism no longer worked. He scratched the back of his neck.

‘This place is too fucking weird. I …’

He suddenly received the impact of what the spheres’ removal of his collar meant. A.A. Catto no longer had any physical control over him. He shot her a single intense glance. She pretended not to notice, and spoke quickly to Billy.

‘Have you ever seen anything like them before?’

Billy shook his head.

‘Never.’

He thought for a moment.

‘It seems like they took away anything to do with technology, all mechanical things. They left our clothes and Reave’s knife, but the mechanism on that doesn’t work. I wonder if …’

Nancy cut him short.

‘Could you do your wondering when we get some place that’s warm?’

A.A. Catto joined in.

‘Let’s go somewhere. I’m dying of cold.’

Billy nodded and, without another word, started down the slope. His face was set and thoughtful. Suddenly he stopped and bent down. He fished something from a tuft of grass and held it up.

‘Whatever those things were they didn’t get this.’

‘What is it?’

‘A gun, it looks like my gun.’

He held up a compact .70 recoilless.

‘It must have dropped here after we fell through the nothings.’

A.A. Catto looked grimly pleased.

‘At least we’re armed.’

Billy nodded, and carefully tucked the gun into the holster under his coat. They carried on down the hillside.

The going wasn’t hard. The ground was even and downhill, but the cold became the exhausting factor. Even while they maintained a brisk pace, the freezing damp cut through their thin clothes and seeped into their bones. A.A. Catto’s teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. She massaged her bare arms and looked desperately at Billy.

‘I c-can’t take m-much more of this.’

Billy did his best to be reassuring. He too was half frozen.

‘We got to come out of this in the end. It cant go on for ever.’

A.A. Catto pursed her now blue lips.

‘Anything’s possible.’

Reave flashed her a wry grin.

‘If it don’t stop, it’ll be the end of us.’

A.A. Catto gave him a long hard look, but said nothing. They went on walking. Billy was thankful for the downhill slope. It did at least prove they weren’t going round in circles. Apart from that single fact, they could easily have been back at the point they started from. Nothing appeared to change.

Billy was about to give up hope when, abruptly, they came out of it. The transition was so sudden, it took them totally by surprise. One moment they were trudging through the same thick mist, then for a few paces it thinned and suddenly they were out in the sunshine. The sky above their heads was a clear blue, and the air smelled sweet and clean. All four of them stopped and just drank it in. A.A. Catto raised her chilled arms to the sun.

‘Oh god. It feels so good.’

She turned and hugged Nancy, and they sank down on the short springy turf kissing each other enthusiastically. Billy looked at Reave, and they both shrugged. They turned their attention to their surroundings. Behind them was the wall of cloud completely concealing the upper slopes. In front of them, however, the view was breathtaking. Below them was a wide green valley. It was watered by a slow meandering river. A number of small tributary streams sparkled in the sun, Billy grinned at Reave.

‘This really don’t look too bad.’

Reave nodded.

‘Sure looks good to me. Look at those trees, all that grass.

I could get behind laying up here for a while.’

He peered intently into the distance, and pointed down the valley.

‘What do you think that is?’

Billy shaded his eyes and stared in the same direction.

‘It looks like a building of some kind.’

Billy could just make out a black structure, beside the river, far down the valley. It seemed to have a broad base and then narrow off towards the top. It was surrounded by patchwork squares of different-coloured vegetation. Billy assumed that they were cultivated fields. Reave turned to Billy.

‘Do you suppose we ought to head for that place?’

Billy nodded.

‘I don’t see anywhere else that looks inhabited.’

‘It looks real big, that place.’

‘And a long way away.’

Billy walked over to where the girls were lying entwined on the grass.

‘Come on, you two. I think we’ve found civilization.’

A.A. Catto disengaged herself from Nancy.

‘Civilization?’

‘There’s some kind of big building down in the valley.’

A.A. Catto propped herself up on one elbow.

‘Is it nice?’

Billy shrugged.

‘It don’t look hostile. It’s a long walk, though.’

A.A. Catto scowled.

‘I thought there’d be something wrong with it.’

‘It’s a nice day for a walk.’

‘I’m getting sick of this place.’

Billy grinned down at her.

‘We might as well get moving.’

‘We have to walk?’

Billy nodded.

‘We have to walk.’

A.A. Catto smiled sweetly at him.

‘I had an idea. Why don’t you and Reave walk to this place? Then when you get there you could send out some transport for Nancy and me.’

‘I didn’t see too much that looked like transport.

A.A. Catto sat up.

‘Where is this place?’

Billy pointed out the building in the distance.

‘There.’

‘You don’t expect me to walk that distance? You’re crazy.’

‘You can stay here.’

A.A. Catto beamed.

‘And you’ll send someone to fetch us?’

‘I doubt it.’

A.A. Catto’s expression turned venomous.

‘One day I’ll get the chance to really make you suffer, you little punk.’

‘I’ll do my best to avoid it.’

A.A. Catto climbed grudgingly to her feet. Nancy did the same. They started down the hillside towards the river. A.A. Catto sulked at first, but the walk proved to be no hardship. Very soon she and Nancy were walking along together chattering and giggling. Billy and Reave were slightly in front, deep in their own thoughts. They had been going for about ten minutes. A.A. Catto and Nancy had dropped some way behind. Suddenly Nancy yelled out.

‘Look!’

There was such a note of urgency in her voice that the two men spun round. Nancy was pointing frantically up the hill. A small troop of horsemen were galloping across the hillside just below the cloudbank. Billy couldn’t make out too many details of the riders. The horses were tall and black. The men carried long slender lances. The only obvious thing was that they didn’t look hospitable. He beckoned quickly to the others.

‘Quickly, crouch down. They don’t seem to have seen us.’

They all flattened themselves on the grass. Not even A.A. Catto made a protest. They lay perfectly still. The horsemen carried on in the same direction. Billy whispered to Reave.

‘I think they’re going to go past without seeing us.’

Reave’s face was grim.

‘I sure hope so. They don’t look over-friendly.’

Suddenly the leading rider pulled his horse to a stop. The others halted beside him. For a few moments they milled about. Then they began to fan out. They came down the hillside at a steady trot, directly towards where the four were lying. Billy pushed himself up into a crouch.

‘They’ve seen us! Run! Spread out!’

They all broke from cover. The riders kicked their horses and came on at a gallop. Billy began running for all he was worth. He forgot about the gun under his coat. The thunder of hooves was close behind him. The riders let out high, bloodcurdling shrieks. Billy’s heart began to pound and his breath came in short, laboured gasps. The time in Litz had destroyed his physical condition. His body cringed at the thought of one of the long thin lances stabbing into it.

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw one of the horsemen close behind him. He swung round and changed direction. He caught a glimpse of a dark-skinned face beneath a strange winged helmet. Then the rider thundered past. Billy began panting back up the hill. Another rider crossed to intercept him. They were dressed in cloaks of some kind of fur, and black armour made from small interlocking plates. They looked sinister and deadly. Billy tried dodging again, but the second rider was too quick for him. He wheeled his horse and came after him. Billy saw that he was swinging two weights on the end of a long thong. Billy turned again and went on running desperately. He caught sight of another rider about to run down Nancy. The one who was chasing Billy suddenly let go of the device of weights and thongs. At that moment Billy remembered the gun, but it was too late. The thing caught him just above the knees. The thongs coiled tightly around his legs. Billy fell heavily. His head hit a rock and black oblivion rushed in and grabbed him.

***

The light that Jeb Stuart Ho had seen at the end of the road turned out, as they came closer, not to be one but several. They shone from the windows of a large building that stood on a small island of bare ground, beside the road, with the nothings all round it. It had the same ramshackle, disorganized style of architecture as the house at Wainscote where Ho had first found the Minstrel Boy, but instead of looking grim and menacing, this place seemed friendly and inviting.

In front of the building was a wide forecourt. It was crowded with a very mixed assortment of vehicles. A line of saddled lizards were tied to a rail. Sleek ground cars were parked next to broken-down horse-drawn wagons. A huge, ornately painted truck towered over a collection of weird, custom-built motorcycles. The access to this parking lot was through a high, curving arch of neon lights. Above the arch a huge sign turned slowly. It carried the legend THE INN. This garish entrance contrasted strangely with the funky, uneven style of the building.

As they came up to the Inn, Jeb Stuart Ho wondered if the Minstrel Boy was going to stop or drive straight by. Ho looked at him questioningly, but the Minstrel Boy continued to stare fixedly straight ahead. Jeb Stuart Ho assumed that there was going to be no stop, and settled back in his seat. Then, at the last minute, the Minstrel Boy spun the wheel and the car swung off the road with a shriek of tyres.

They passed under the glowing arch, and crossed the forecourt. The Minstrel Boy parked the car beside a land yacht. The strange vehicle had huge, spun-gold photon sails, and a wooden body covered in elaborate and somewhat obscene carvings. The Minstrel Boy cut the car’s engine, and slumped forward across the wheel. Jeb Stuart Ho wondered if he should help the Minstrel Boy out of the car, or leave him and go into the Inn on his own. He tapped the Minstrel Boy on the shoulder.

‘Do you want to come inside with me?’

The Minstrel Boy didn’t answer. He responded like a zombie, sitting up and slowly moving his hand to the door handle. Jeb Stuart Ho quickly climbed out of the car and hurried round to the Minstrel Boy’s side. He helped him through the door, and steadied him while he tried to stand.

In his trancelike state, the Minstrel Boy had a good deal of difficulty walking. Jeb Stuart Ho supported him as they made their way to the entrance of the Inn. As they passed the line of tethered lizards, the beasts snorted and stamped their feet in agitation. The Minstrel Boy seemed to have a strange, unsettling effect on them.

The interior of the Inn, and the people who crowded the noisy, smoky, low-ceilinged room, were as mixed as the outside architecture. A long bar of dark, stained oak ran down one side of the main room. A gang of bartenders scurried backwards and forwards behind it serving drinks to the demanding throng. In a corner a string band occupied a small stage and tried to make themselves heard above the general din. In a cleared space among the tables a hunchbacked juggler with a small black and white dog performed for tips and drinks. Across on the other side of the room, in a section of floor that was lower than the rest, two men sat on small stools, hunched over a huge black and white marble board, a full two metres across, playing checkers with counters the size of plates. A small crowd sat silently watching them, occasionally exchanging low-voiced side bets as the game progressed.

At one end of the room was a granite fireplace where two great logs blazed with a comforting glow. The corner of the fireplace and the wall of the room created a patch of shadow. In it were two tables. One was empty and the other occupied only by a solitary old man who nodded over a beer mug. It seemed a place where one could sit without attracting attention. Jeb Stuart Ho steered the Minstrel Boy towards the spot. He didn’t want anyone paying too close attention to his condition.

Once they were seated, Jeb Stuart Ho had a chance to look at the other people in the main room of the Inn. There were representatives of almost every culture that was crowded on to the remains of the shattered world. There were nomad bike-riders and wheelfreaks with their loud laughter, leather suits and long, greased hair. There were puritan merchants jealous of the glances that the other travellers gave their veiled and hooded wives. Hard-eyed brigands with gaudy clothes, huge brass rings through their ears, and wicked knives stuck in their belts crouched in conspiratorial groups. Away from the rest of the crowd five nuns ate in silence. They had the shaved heads and purple robes of the grim sisterhood who ruled the city of Sade. Sophisticated women in the scanty synthetics that were high fashion in the tech-cities rubbed shoulders with ragged bums, travelling hookers, medicine men and gamblers in the traditional frock coats and fancy vests. There were even a few of the strange, almost alien creatures from the outer fringes, with their tinted skin, abnormal bodies and outlandish clothes. Of A.A. Catto and her companions, however, there was no sign.

Servants of both sexes moved in and out of the throng, serving meals and drinks, laughing with the customers and generally making themselves available. They seemed to combine the roles of waiter, host and prostitute. One of them, a girl with large breasts and long slim legs, moved towards Jeb Stuart Ho’s table.

‘What can I get you, friend?’

‘I’d like a meal of fresh vegetables and a bottle of pure water.’

The waitress looked at him strangely. She seemed about to say something, but changed her mind. She nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.

‘How about him? Does he want anything?’

‘You could bring him some brandy.’

The waitress nodded, and then smiled sideways at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘You wouldn’t maybe like a little, uh, companionship, perhaps?’

Jeb Stuart Ho hesitated. He had had no sexual contact with either man or woman since he had left the temple. The prospect seemed wholly inviting. Both the men and the women were extremely pleasing. There was his task, though. He was sure the brotherhood and his teachers would expect him to remain celibate until it was complete. He sighed and shook his head.

‘Regretfully, I think not.’

The girl shrugged.

‘Suit yourself.’

She went away, and after a short while came back with the order. As she leaned over to place it on the table, Jeb Stuart Ho was treated to an uninterrupted view of her breasts. He felt a stab of remorse at his decision to remain temporarily celibate. After she’d moved on, he pushed the brandy glass in front of the Minstrel Boy.

‘Here, I ordered a drink for you.’

The Minstrel Boy’s eyes were glazed. He appeared to hear and see nothing. It was as though he was in some other place. Jeb Stuart Ho started as a wheezing chuckle came from behind him.

‘He’ll not drink anything.’

Jeb Stuart Ho turned round carefully, and found the old man was grinning at him crookedly. He was a strange figure. The top of his head was bald, but long white hair cascaded down his back. His beard was of equal length. His face was lined and weatherbeaten, and the long shapeless robe that he wore had been washed, bleached, patched and darned until it was a uniform off-white. The most compelling thing about him, however, was his eyes. They were small and black and peered out from behind bushy eyebrows like those of a lizard, a lizard whose sense of humour was the only thing that saved it from being a venomous cynic. He picked up a stout polished staff, almost as tall as himself, from where it was leaning against the wall, and moved to Jeb Stuart Ho’s table.

‘He’ll not touch the brandy, or anything else, until he pulls out of what you’ve done to him.’

Jeb Stuart Ho tensed. He arranged himself in his chair so he could instantly move in any direction. He looked evenly at the old man.

‘You know what’s been done to him?’

The old man’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

‘I’ve a pretty fair idea. You’ve filled him up with cyclatrol or some such gunk, and there’s no point in you sitting there like a cat ready to jump. I’ll not harm you. Much as I might like to. The only thing I’m wondering is why you did it. I’m wondering what you’re after.’

Jeb Stuart Ho was taken aback at the amount of information the old man seemed to have. He did his best to maintain his composure.

‘You seem to know a lot about my affairs.’

‘I just watch and figure. Right now I’m figuring what you’re up to.’

Jeb Stuart Ho smiled a deceptively sweet smile. He was aware that he might have to kill the prattling old man if he began to endanger his mission.

‘And what do you figure I’m up to, old man?’

‘I figure you’re hunting someone. That’s about the only thing that’ll bring you black murdering vultures out of your damn temple. I figure you’re out for a hit, and you’ve filled the poor boy here with cyclatrol to get a fix on your victim.’

‘Your talk could be dangerous, old man.’

The old man nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.

‘When I was his age, I might have been afraid of you, but now I’m too old. Even he seeks a temporary death in oblivion every opportunity he gets. Maybe life’s the only thing to be afraid of these days.’

Jeb Stuart Ho was definitely ill at ease. He glanced at the Minstrel Boy, and then back at the old man.

‘You know him?’

The old man laughed.

‘The Minstrel Boy. Aye, you could say our paths have crossed.’

‘Who are you?’

‘They call me the Wanderer.’

‘And what do you do, Wanderer?’

‘I wander round from place to place. I watch and figure.’

‘And you know where you are?’

‘Don’t get any ideas.’

‘But you do know where you are?’

The Wanderer sighed.

‘Aye, I do, but not as good as a lizard, and not as good as him.’

He nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.

‘I was never as good as him. Perhaps that’s why I lived so long.’

Jeb Stuart Ho was about to ask another question, when the Minstrel Boy twitched. His eyes focused, and his mouth opened.

‘Quahal.’

His voice was a hoarse croak.

‘Quahal.’

Jeb Stuart Ho grasped his arm.

‘Quahal.’

‘What?’

The Minstrel Boy didn’t answer. His eyes glazed over again. He became rigid. Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the Wanderer.

‘What did he say?’

The Wanderer’s eye twinkled.

‘He said Quahal.’

‘What is Quahal?’

‘Don’t they teach you anything inside your precious temple?’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s face darkened.

‘What is Quahal?’

‘It’s a place. I figure your quarry must have fetched up there. Is it a man or a woman?’

‘What difference does it make?’

The Wanderer laughed.

‘In Quahal it makes a difference.’

‘Why? What is this place?’

‘You want to know about Quahal, do you?’

‘I’d be grateful for any information you could give me.’

‘Grateful, even? Well, I suppose I can’t do no harm, except of course to help you kill this poor soul.’

‘She only has to die to save many more lives.’

‘Says you.’

‘The brotherhood’s projections have a very low factor of error.’

The Wanderer grunted.

‘That’s as maybe. It’s too much like men playing god for me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho grew impatient.

‘Will you tell me about Quahal?’

The Wanderer nodded.

‘Aye, I’ll tell. If you promise to keep quiet, and not interrupt.’

Jeb Stuart Ho smiled.

‘You have my word.’

‘Your word, even. Right, then. I’ll tell you the story of Quahal. Like most things, it started back in the days when things broke up. That was just after Stuff Central got going, and we were supposed to have reached Utopia, although not many people like to connect those two facts any more. Anyhow, the nothings came, and the disruptors began to break up the land, and you couldn’t trust gravity or nothing any more. People began grabbing anything they could hang on to, stabilize and live on. Everyone had a different idea about why things had gone so wrong. There was this particular brother and sister called Alamada and Joachim Hesse. They decided all the trouble was due to technology and the only way to live was in a primitive, natural world. As their home started to melt away, they got Stuff Central to set one up for them. They had a huge great stasis generator installed, stabilized a stretch of place, had it landscaped, a nice misty, wild mountain and a fertile river valley, and moved in. You’ll notice, incidentally, that they weren’t averse to a bit of technology creating and maintaining this Garden of Eden. At my age, I really ought to stop expecting people to be consistent. Anyway, they had some plants and animals beamed in, and then people. The people were specially DNA tailored to suit Alamada’s and Joachim’s fantasies, and programmed to do exactly what was expected of them. Everything was set up. They called the place Quahal and settled down to the simple life.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked puzzled.

‘Why Quahal?’

The Wanderer became annoyed.

‘How should I know? That’s what they called it. Maybe they got it out of a book. I don’t know. You promised not to interrupt.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Okay. Don’t do it again. Right?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Okay. Well, Alamada and Joachim didn’t exactly want the same things. For a start, Joachim was gay and Alamada was a hetero sadist, so they didn’t quite see eye to eye. The long and short of it was that Joachim lived down in the valley doing a kind of Aztec number with a lot of specially bred young men. He was the high priest. He had a ziggurat, the whole number, all these lads worshipping him. He was happy as a pig in shit. He had them ritually sacrificed when they got too old, and kept them totally celibate except as far as he was concerned.’

The Wanderer looked at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Aren’t you guys from the brotherhood celibate?’

‘Only when it serves our purpose.’

The Wanderer looked dubious.

‘I never did see what purpose could be served by not screwing. Are you sure you ain’t the product of someone’s fantasy?’

‘I …’

‘Don’t answer. I’ll go on with the story. Obviously Alamada wasn’t going to go for Joachim’s set-up. She made herself a home up the mountain with a team of rough, horny, horse-riding tribesmen. She was their, I dunno, witch queen or something. They all balled her, and fought with each other and were generally rough and disagreeable, so she was happy too. The Stuff beam brought in all the things they needed, including replacement people, and everything was neat. Except for one thing. You know what that was?’

‘No.’

‘Joachim and Alamada weren’t immortal. They grew old and in the end they died. They even got round that, in a way, though.’

‘How?’

‘They had everything about them fed into the Stuff Central computer. When they passed away, these replacements showed up. They’ve showed up about every ten years ever since. In the case of Joachim it was a short ritual. The new Joachim would come out of the Stuff receiver, and the old one would straight away get sacrificed. In Alamada’s case it was a little rougher. The Stuff receiver was in the ziggurat, down in the valley. When a new Alamada arrived she’d climb the mountain and have to fight the old one. The winner would be queen. I figure that’s about it, as far as Quahal’s concerned.’

The Wanderer thought for a minute.

‘Oh yeah, one thing I forgot. The globes.’

‘The globes?’

‘Another of Alamada’s and Joachim’s little concessions to technology. They’re a kind of cybernetic watchdogs. They prowl the place. If anyone turns up out of the nothings they remove everything more advanced than a slingshot. If anyone resists they fuse him.’

He looked hard at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I suppose you’ll be of there?’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘I should leave straight away.’

‘You could easily find that the lady you’re after has been offed by the current Alamada.’

‘I would have to go and make sure.’

The Wanderer grinned crookedly.

‘Duty?’

‘What else is there?’

The Wanderer shook his head.

‘Don’t ask me to tell you.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

There was a pause. Jeb Stuart Ho and the Wanderer sat silent with the rigid Minstrel Boy between them. Then the Wanderer looked sideways at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘You wouldn’t have any objection to me coming, along with you?’

‘To Quahal?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got nothing better to do, and I do know about the place.’

Jeb Stuart Ho became suspicious.

‘Why do you want to come? You didn’t make the place sound very pleasant.’

‘Like I said, I don’t have anything better to do. After all, you don’t think an old man like me can harm you in any way?’

Ho nodded doubtfully.

‘I don’t.’

The Wanderer grinned.

‘So I can ride with you?’

‘I suppose so.’

The Wanderer gestured at the Minstrel Boy.

‘We’d better get him out to the car then.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s head jerked round.

‘How did you know we came in a ground car?’

The Wanderer grinned.

‘Like I said, I don’t miss very much.’

They pulled the Minstrel Boy to his feet, and headed for the door.

***

Billy woke up. He immediately wished that he hadn’t. He hurt all over. The slightest movement sent pain stabbing up from the back of his neck. He tried opening his eyes. Wherever he was, the light was dim. Billy was grateful for that. He was aware of something moving. Billy turned his head. He found himself looking at Reave.

‘Where are we?’

‘You’ve come round, then? We were beginning to think you’d gone and died.’

‘I wish I had.’

‘You feel bad?’

‘Bad? I feel like I’ve been beaten up about a dozen times. Where the hell are we?’

Reave rubbed his nose.

‘I ain’t really sure.’

Billy struggled into a sitting position. He looked around. He seemed to be in some kind of hut. The floor was bare earth and the wall was built from dry stone. There was a single circular wall that curved inwards in a kind of beehive shape to become an almost conical roof. In the centre of it was a small hole. It was the only source of light and ventilation. A heavy wooden door was the only exit from the hut. Billy moved painfully towards it, but Reave waved him away.

‘There’s no point in trying the door. It’s bolted on the outside.’

Billy sat down again. He noticed the hut was completely bare. There was no furniture, nothing. It was also very cold. He shivered and looked at Reave.

‘What in hell is this place?’

Reave shrugged.

‘Like I said, I ain’t really sure.’

Billy began to get impatient. It seemed as though Reave was being deliberately unhelpful.

‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing. I’m just frozen, starved, and I figure we’re liable to get killed any time now. I don’t see much to get enthusiastic about.’

Billy frowned, and ran his fingers through his hair.

‘What happened? The last thing I remember was being chased by those guys on horses.’

‘They caught us.’

‘Then what?’

‘They slung us over their saddles and rode up into the mist. You were out cold. It seemed like we rode for hours, all through that fog. Eventually we wound up here.’

‘What’s here?’

‘A village of some sort. Just a collection of beehive-shaped stone huts in the fog. I didn’t get too much of a chance to look at the place. They threw you and me in here, and that was it.’

‘You’ve been here ever since?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What happened to A.A. Catto and Nancy?’

‘The horsemen took them to some other part of the village.’

‘You figure they’re being raped?’

Reave shrugged.

‘Who can tell? I don’t think they are, somehow. The horsemen seemed to treat them with some kind of respect.’

Billy massaged his bruises.

‘Pity they didn’t give us some.’

Reave scowled, and said nothing. Billy sat thinking. After a while he looked up.

‘Do you reckon we could escape?’

Reave slapped the solid stone wall.

‘I don’t see how.’

‘Maybe when they come to feed us?’

Reave shook his head sourly.

‘They ain’t showed no sign of feeding us yet.’

Billy slumped back against the wall and thought again. Suddenly he sat bolt upright.

‘Hey!’

Reave looked up without too much interest.

‘What?’

Billy stuck a hand inside his jacket.

‘They left me with my gun.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘No, look!’

Billy pulled it out. Reave looked at it in amazement.

‘Shit!’

‘How could they have missed it?’

Reave shook his head.

‘Beats me. They took my knife away.’

Billy looked at the gun thoughtfully.

‘Maybe they don’t know what it is. If those globes destroy all the technology that turns up here, those horsemen may never have seen a gun.’

Reave nodded.

‘You got a point there.’

‘It gives us a better chance of getting away.’

‘We’ll have to wait till someone comes and opens the door.’

‘When they do, we can blow them away.’

‘So all we have to do is wait.’

‘Right.’

They waited. They had no way of calculating the passing of time, but it seemed like a very long wait. A couple of times Billy became quite convinced that they had been locked up in the stone hut and forgotten. Eventually, however, there came the sound of someone pulling back the outside bolts. Billy tensed. He moved to beside the door. He flattened himself against the wall, tightly gripping the butt of the gun. The door opened. Billy raised his weapon. A figure stepped into the hut. Billy’s finger eased back on the trigger. Then he stopped. The figure was A.A. Catto. Nancy followed her into the hut, then two of the horsemen. Billy quickly stuffed the gun under his jacket. A.A. Catto turned, and saw him pressed against the wall.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Billy wiped a hand over his face.

‘Nothing.’

A.A. Catto raised an eyebrow, but made no remark. Reave scrambled to his feet.

‘Are you two all right?’

A.A. Catto nodded.

‘For the moment.’

Billy glanced at the two horsemen standing in the doorway of the hut.

‘Are we still prisoners?’

A.A. Catto examined her fingernails, and picked at one where the paintjob was chipped.

‘Not exactly.’

‘We can go?’

‘No, We can’t actually leave this place.’

‘What’s going on then?’

A.A. Catto avoided looking at Billy.

‘It’s sort of complicated.’

Billy pursed his lips.

‘I might have known it wouldn’t be simple. Are you going to tell us about it?’

A.A. Catto took a deep breath.

‘Well … it’s like this. There aren’t any women in this tribe. It’s all men.’

Billy looked amazed.

‘No women?’

‘Well, there is one. She’s sort of queen witch. The Alamada, they call her. It seems that the only other women who come here are challengers for her title. There’s a sort of ritual fight, and the one who wins gets to rule the place.’

Billy’s expression became even more incredulous.

‘You mean they thought you were a challenger?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose you put them straight about you not being a challenger, and how we all just came here by accident.’

‘Well … no.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘I was worried that they might kill us.’

Billy slowly shook his head, as though to clear it.

‘You mean you’re going to go along with this fight?’

‘I can’t see any way out.’

‘I suppose you can take a dive as soon as is honourably possible. Then we can all leave?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘It’s a fight to the death.’

Billy’s jaw dropped.

‘To the death?’

‘To the death.’

‘You mean you’re risking getting killed to save the rest of us?’

A.A. Catto looked at him as though he was mad.

‘No, of course not. If I lose, they’ll kill you straight away. I told them that you were my personal slaves.’

‘Personal slaves?’

‘That’s right, so you’d better come up with an idea.’

Billy shook his head in disbelief.

‘What the hell have you got us into?’

A.A. Catto looked at him disdainfully.

‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’

‘How long do we have before the fight?’

A.A. Catto avoided Billy’s eyes.

‘Not very long.’

She gestured towards the two horsemen.

‘These people have come to take us all to another hut. Then we have to prepare for the fight.’

The horsemen began to show signs of impatience. They motioned to A.A. Catto. She walked out of the hut. The others followed. The two horsemen led the four of them through the village. It was a cold, bleak place. A collection of grey stone beehive-shaped huts with thin trails of mist drifting between them. Billy noticed that behind the huts was a wooden fenced corral that contained a fairly large herd of all, mean-looking horses. At one end of the village was a hut much larger than any of the others. It was constructed from three of the dry stone beehive shapes run together. It had a tall timber roof. In front of it was a cleared space. At one side of the space was a fire pit lined with flat slabs of stone. At the moment it was only filled with smouldering embers, but it was obvious that it regularly held a huge fire.

At first Billy thought that the two horsemen were taking him to the big building, but at the last minute, they turned off and went towards a smaller one next to it.

During the walk through the village, Billy had a chance closely to examine the horsemen, The two who were acting as their escort were uncannily alike. Billy began to suspect that they might be clones or something similar. They had olive complexions, high cheekbones, prominent noses and deep-set dark eyes. They looked proud, savage and arrogant. The long, straight black hair was heavily greased, and scraped back and secured at the nape of the neck with an ornamental clasp. They wore tunics of heavy fur. Round their waists were wide studded belts. From them hung a wide-bladed knife, and a long thin two-handed sword. Their legs were covered in crude trousers of some coarse material, held together by thongs that criss-crossed from their sandalled feet to just above the knee. The arms were protected by a flexible armour made from small leaf-shaped metal plates that extended right down to the backs of their hands.

The hut they were taken to was much bigger than the one Billy and Reave had been locked up in. It was also a lot more comfortable. The stone walls were hung with roughly woven tapestries. There were rushes strewn on the floor. Warmth came from a small brazier and there were even a rough carved table, three stools and a straight-backed chair. A.A. Catto dropped into the chair, and looked up at Billy.

‘So, have you thought of something?’

Billy glanced round at the two horsemen who stood silently by the door.

‘Do they understand what we’re saying?’

A.A. Catto nodded.

‘They use the same language, but I think there’s quite a few words they don’t use or understand. They don’t talk much, though. They use a lot of signs and gestures.’

Billy moved round until he was standing behind A.A. Catto. He watched the faces of the two horsemen, and spoke slowly and carefully.

‘I still have my seventy calibre. They didn’t take it away from me.’

‘You mean you’ve got a …’

‘Don’t say it!’

‘Sorry.’

The horsemen gave no flicker of interest. Billy leaned forward.

‘Okay. I’m going to take a chance now. I’m going to take the thing out and put it on the table. I’m pretty sure they won’t know what it is.’

Billy moved slowly round to the table. He casually took the gun out from under his coat, and placed it on he table. Neither of the horsemen moved. A.A. Catto let out her breath with a sigh.

‘It worked. You were right.’

Billy nodded.

‘Right. You’re going to prepare for the fight. You’re going to go through with it. Just hang in there as long as you can. Immediately you get into trouble, I’ll shoot the queen. After that, we play it by ear. Okay?’

Before A.A. Catto could reply, the door opened and another two horsemen came into the hut. One carried a bundle wrapped in red cloth, and the other a small iron pot. They placed them on the table. Neither appeared to take any particular notice of the gun. One of them unwrapped the contents of the cloth. There was a wide leaf-bladed knife, a set of the strange armour to cover one arm, and a small round shield, slightly larger than a plate. The armour was silver rather than black. The horsemen pointed at A.A. Catto.

‘You prepare. Soon it is time.’

A.A. Catto looked round questioningly. The horseman gestured for her to stand. A.A. Catto stood. The horseman moved close to her and tugged at the top of her dress. Nothing happened. He tugged again. A.A. Catto realized I he wanted her to take off the dress. She released the fastening. It fell open, and dropped to the floor. A.A. Catto was naked except for her boots. The horseman pointed to them. A.A. Catto stooped down and took them off. None of the horsemen showed any reaction to her nudity.

The one who brought in the bundle stepped away from A.A. Catto, and the one who had carried in the iron pot moved forward. He placed the pot on the table and positioned A.A. Catto so she was standing with her feet apart and her arms raised. Then he turned and dipped both hands into the pot. It was filled with a warm, sweet-smelling, oily paste. He began slowly and carefully to rub the substance all over A.A. Catto’s body, not missing any part. At first, A.A. Catto’s face registered surprise, but the surprise quickly turned to pleasure. She gave a short, low moan. For a moment the horseman stopped massaging and looked at her blankly, then he went on with his work. Nancy caught A.A. Catto’s eye.

‘Does that stuff do anything?’

‘It deadens the nerves, I think. It’s kind of nice.’

When the horseman had finished he moved away and let the first one fit the piece of armour on to A.A. Catto’s left arm. Then he picked up the knife and shield, and with a ritualistic gesture presented them to her. A.A. Catto swung the knife a little to test its weight. The horsemen motioned that it was time for them to move. A curious procession formed up. In the front were the two horsemen who had prepared A.A. Catto for the fight, then A.A. Catto herself. Behind her were Billy, Reave and Nancy, and finally, bringing up the rear, were the two original horsemen who had guarded them all the time they had been in the village. As Billy left the hut, he casually picked up the gun and held it loosely by his side. None of the horsemen appeared to notice.

They left the hut, and came out into the open space in front of the big hut. The fire had been piled high with huge timbers, and blazed furiously. Flames leaped from the pit, and a lot of the fog had been burned away. A.A. Catto’s oiled body glistened in the light. The open space was surrounded on three sides by squares of horsemen. There must have been fifty in all. They stood in straight, unwavering lines. Unlike the men escorting A.A. Catto and her companions, these men wore conical helmets with batwings of flat black metal projecting from the top. The helmets gave them a sinister appearance, which was heightened by two curved side pieces that protected their cheeks, and a third piece that projected downwards to cover the nose. They all carried the long slender lances, which served to complete the whole effect of menace.

The open side of the square faced the big hut. As A.A. Catto approached the line of men, they stepped aside to let her through. Then the ranks closed. Billy, Reave, Nancy and the four horsemen attending them were left to stand behind the ranks, peering over their shoulders.

A.A. Catto stood in the middle of the open space. The fire crackled and roared beside her. It was a strange experience to stand naked apart from her protected arm in front of all these men who looked on so impassively. She stood in front of the big hut and waited. She didn’t feel anything like as frightened as she had expected to be. She wondered if the stuff they’d rubbed into her body had some kind of narcotic effect.

There was no sign of the woman she was expected to fight. Then the door of the hut swung open. Two helmeted horsemen came out and positioned themselves on either side of the door. Then a figure, who was unmistakably the Alamada, followed them out. It was A.A. Catto’s first glimpse of her opponent, and she didn’t like what she saw.

***

The ground car emerged from the nothings. Jeb Stuart Ho relaxed back in his seat. He was profoundly relieved. Travelling through the nothings still intensely disturbed him. When he returned to the temple, he would have to discuss the matter with his teacher and meditate on the answers. That was if he ever did return to the temple. Right at that time it seemed an impossible distance away. He turned and looked out of the side window. They were in one of the broken areas that formed the transition between the nothings and a stabilized area. Small sections of bare earth began to form around them, though there were still huge holes of shifting grey punched through it.

The holes grew progressively smaller, and finally vanished altogether. The solid stable land was complete. The car was bouncing through a lush green meadow. Beside them flowed a wide, clear river. In the distance was a tall, mist-covered mountain. Jeb Stuart Ho glanced back at the Wanderer who sat in the rear seat.

‘Is this place Quahal?’

The Wanderer nodded.

‘I figure so. Particularly from the state of him.’

The Wanderer nodded to the Minstrel Boy sitting in the driving seat. Jeb Stuart Ho looked round at him. The Minstrel Boy had changed. He was still staring straight ahead and tightly gripping the wheel, but his face had turned green and sweat was pouring off him. His lips were moving soundlessly, as though he was trying to say something. Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the Wanderer.

‘Should I give him another shot?’

‘Not unless you want to kill him.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘We’ve arrived, you fool. There’s nothing more he can do for you.’

As though in silent confirmation, the Minstrel Boy slowed the car to a stop. He cut the engine. It was suddenly very quiet. The only sound was a breeze that moved through the grass. The Minstrel Boy slowly toppled over. His head slammed forward on to the wheel. The Wanderer leaned forward and grasped his shoulder. He shook him gently. The Minstrel Boy didn’t move. The Wanderer looked quickly at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Feel for his pulse! He may be dead!’

‘Why should he be dead?’

‘Don’t ask questions. Just do it.’

Jeb Stuart Ho placed his fingertips on the Minstrel Boy’s neck.

‘There’s a pulse, but it’s very faint.’

‘Get him out of the car and lay him down on the grass.’

Jeb Stuart Ho did as he was told. The Wanderer stooped over the Minstrel Boy and loosened his shirt. He put his ear to his chest. He listened for a few moments, and then straightened up.

‘As far as I can tell, he’ll live.’

‘What’s happened to him?’

‘You’ve got a lot of gall.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’

‘With all your fucking training you don’t understand. You’ve just about killed the poor bastard.’

‘I have? How?’

The Wanderer clapped a hand to his bald head.

‘How? How? You fill him up with cyclatrol, you keep him driving through the nothings for fuck knows how long and then you wonder why he almost dies when he starts to come down. You’re impossible, Jeb Stuart Ho.’

Ho stood in silence for a long while. He was becoming acutely aware that despite all the years at the temple, there were many things that he still needed to learn, Suddenly a thought struck him. He looked hard at the Wanderer.

‘How did you know my name? I didn’t tell it to you.’

The Wanderer grinned and tapped the side of lis nose with his forefinger.

‘There’s a lot I know.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded solemnly.

‘I’m beginning to realize that.’

He walked slowly away from the car. The doubts were becoming serious. There was so much that he didn’t understand. He stood staring at the river. He took a grip on himself. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. He only had one purpose in this place. He had to complete his task. He had to kill A.A. Catto. He walked quickly back to the Wanderer and the still unconscious Minstrel Boy. The Wanderer looked up at him and grinned.

‘Itchy to get on with the killing, Jeb Stuart Ho?’

‘Sometimes I think you can read my thoughts.’

‘You don’t think a poor old man like me could do anything like that, do you?’

‘The fox does not lead the hunter straight to his lair, neither does the little rabbit …’

The Wanderer quickly interrupted him.

‘Don’t give me that fortune cookie stuff. It’s something I’ve always hated about your bunch.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I doubt that it’s your fault.’

‘I’m anxious to get on with my task.’

The Wanderer nodded.

‘So I see.’

He nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.

‘What about this poor boy?’

There was an awkward pause as the Wanderer got to his feet.

‘You weren’t thinking of leaving him here?’

‘You wouldn’t consider looking after him?’

‘Have you considered that he might not want to stay in this place?’

‘He has the ground car.’

‘Not for long, he hasn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’

The Wanderer grinned.

‘That’s something else you’ve forgotten.’

‘What?’

‘The globes.’

‘The cybernetic guards that destroy machines?’

‘Right.’

‘They’ll destroy the car?’

‘Of course they will.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked round.

‘They haven’t come yet.’

‘They will, and when they do, don’t try and resist. They’re quite liable to fry all three of us.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stared out across the river. Sure enough, just as the Wanderer had predicted, five objects were floating towards them. They hung in the air a short distance above the surface of the water. As they came nearer, he could see that they were smooth grey steel with a black disc set in the side nearest to him.

The globes swept across the meadow towards them. They emitted a high-pitched hum. The Wanderer moved close to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Remember, don’t try anything. Just go along with what they want. If you don’t, they’ll wipe us all out.’

The globes moved round until they’d surrounded the car and the three men.

‘ You-will-stay-exactly-as-you-are!’

Neither Ho nor the Wanderer replied. Jeb Stuart Ho was aware the spheres were somehow draining off his willpower. He tried to analyse how they were doing this. It was something he had no experience of. The effort proved to much for him, and he found himself standing blankly.

‘It-is-necessary-that-we-search-you.’

The tentacles curled out from the base of the globes, and their tips ran over the Wanderer’s and Jeb Stuart Ho’s bodies. They took away Ho’s gun and his stasis generator. They left him with the rest of his weapons and equipment. They found nothing on the Wanderer, and turned their attention to the Minstrel Boy.

‘Has-this-one-ceased-to-live?’

The Wanderer shook his head dully.

‘He’s still alive, but he’s unconscious.’

The globes made no comment. They just ran their tentacles over the Minstrel Boy’s inert body. They took his stasis generator, and a couple of trinkets from his pocket. They placed them on top of the car, along with the things they’d taken from Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘These-objects-are-proscribed-in-this-area. The-vehicle-is-proscribed-in-this-area. It-is-necessary-that-we-destroy-them.’

The globes rose and floated above the car. Thin beams of bright blue light stabbed down from their bases, and played over the car. Jeb Stuart Ho retreated from the heat that was generated as the car smoked and melted. When it was reduced to a twisted, blackened hulk, the globes silently retreated back across the river and vanished. Jeb Stuart Ho slowly shook his head.

‘I have never seen machines like that before.’

The Wanderer nodded.

‘It’s amazing what you can get from Stuff Central.’

They both stood looking at the charred wreck. The Wanderer grinned.

‘Looks like we’re walking from here on in.’

Jeb Stuart Ho was about to answer when the Minstrel Boy made a noise. Both men turned and looked at him. He was weakly trying to sit up. His face was still very pale. Jeb Stuart Ho dropped on one knee beside him.

‘Are you all right?’

‘No. I feel half dead. My head hurts.’

Jeb Stuart Ho avoided the Minstrel Boy’s eyes.

‘I suppose you blame me for it.’

The Minstrel Boy struggled into a sitting position. Anger seemed to give him strength.

‘Who the hell do you expect me to blame? You’re the fucker that’s responsible.’

He caught sight of the Wanderer.

‘You! What the fuck are you doing here?’

The Wanderer grinned.

‘I just came along for the ride.’

The Minstrel Boy groaned, and looked around.

‘Where are we, anyway?’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him in surprise.

‘You mean you don’t know? You brought us here.’

‘You don’t expect me to remember any of that, do you?’

‘We’re in Quahal.’

The Minstrel Boy collapsed back on the grass.

‘Quahal! Oh no, I don’t believe it.’

‘You don’t like it?’

‘Of course I don’t like it. It’s a hideous, unbelievable place.’

He sat up again, and noticed the wreckage of the car for the first time.

‘I suppose the globes did that.’

The Wanderer nodded.

‘That’s right.’

‘So we can’t get out of here.’

‘Not until someone comes up with something.’

The Minstrel Boy looked bitterly at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Why did I ever get involved with you?’

‘You had no choice.’

‘You can say that again.’

The Minstrel Boy continued to sit on the grass. The Wanderer seemed content to stand patiently and say nothing. Jeb Stuart Ho began to feel that his time was being wasted. He looked from one to the other.

‘We ought really to begin to move on.’

The Wanderer said nothing. The Minstrel Bof savagely ripped up a clump of grass.

‘I ain’t going nowhere else with you.’

Jeb Stuart Ho attempted to be reasonable.

‘You can’t remain here for the rest of time.’

The Minstrel Boy glanced up with a sneer.

‘Can’t I? You just watch me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho continued to be reasonable.

‘Surely if you come with us, at least to the nearest habitation, you may find the means to get out of this area.’

The Minstrel Boy sat in stubborn silence. The Wanderer decided it was time to intervene.

‘He’s right, you know. You might as well come as far as the ziggurat.’

The Minstrel Boy glared at him.

‘Who asked you?’

‘I’m only telling you the truth.’

The Minstrel Boy paused for a moment, then climbed slowly to his feet.

‘Okay, okay, I’ll come that far with you, but one thing’s got to be clear, right?’

‘What’s that?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded towards Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I ain’t going to get involved in any more of his deals. I don’t want him anywhere near me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the ground.

‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’

‘Don’t even talk about it.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked helplessly at the Wanderer. He shrugged and slowly turned and started walking away. Ho, and finally the Minstrel Boy, followed him. They walked along parallel to the river. All the men maintained a certain distance between each other. Nobody spoke. Every so often, they would pass the ruined, burned-out hulk of another vehicle that had been destroyed by the globes. There was no sign of any people.

There was no great hardship involved in walking to the ziggurat. The river lowlands had been designed as a natural near-paradise. Once they’d left the last of the wrecks behind, the countryside was almost idyllic. Butterflies and small birds flitted above the long, lush, gently waving grass. The river moved calmly along beside them, reflecting the bright sunlight and the deep blue, cloudless sky. Even the distant view of the blue-grey, mist-shrouded mountain was almost too good to be true.

After a while, they could see the ziggurat further down the river. Even from some distance away there was no mistaking its vast size and complexity. Although it was roughly pyramid-shaped, it was a mass of ramps, stairs, stepped walls and flat roofs at different levels. Here and there, the even blackness of the stone was broken up by a small patch of green where plants were being grown on a section of roof. There were also flashes of silver where a stream of water ran down a complicated system of channels from a fountain high up near the summit of the structure.

As they came nearer to the ziggurat, the meadow land gave way to a system of small, square, cultivated fields, divided by hedges and irrigation ditches. They crossed a path that appeared to lead straight towards the massive building, and turned on to it. Men were working in some of the fields. They all seemed to have a similar build and very uniform features. They all wore the same kind of one-piece faded blue robe, and their heads were either shaved or totally bald. Each time Jeb Stuart Ho and his two companions passed one of the men, they looked up, smiled, and then went back to their work. It reminded Jeb Stuart Ho of his time at the brotherhood temple and, despite his carefully programmed sense of caution, he felt himself filled with a strong sensation of wellbeing.

The others seemed to pick up some of the same atmosphere. Despite the early bad feeling they moved closer together, and the Minstrel Boy even took off his jacket and tossed it across his shoulder. Jeb Stuart Ho had never seen him look so relaxed.

They started meeting more of the local people. They passed them on the path, wheeling barrows, carrying bundles or simply moving from one field to another with forks or hoes over their shoulders. None of them spoke to the travellers, but they all flashed them the happy instant smile. Jeb Stuart Ho wasn’t too surprised at the extreme similarity between all the men, this was common in many closed communities. The brotherhood all looked very much alike, although not to the extent of the men of Quahal. What puzzled him was that they all appeared to be roughly the same age. There were no children, no youths and no old men. Everyone he had seen appeared to be between twenty and thirty.

They reached the foot of the ziggurat. There was nothing that could be described as a main entrance. There were at least four arched doorways in the wall nearest to them, plus half a dozen small square openings, also two ramps, and three sets of steps. Jeb Stuart Ho looked round at the Wanderer.

‘Do you have any idea where we should go?’

The Wanderer shook his head.

‘No idea.’

He turned to the Minstrel Boy.

‘Would you know?’

The Minstrel Boy looked at him, hesitated, and then shook his head.

‘I don’t know nothing.’

They walked round to the next side of the square base. Here again they were confronted with another choice of stairs and entrances. Jeb Stuart Ho looked round helplessly. The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘You could always go inside and just wander about.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked hard at him.

‘I hardly think that would be suitable behaviour.’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged. Jeb Stuart Ho approached a man who was walking past with a bundle tied to his back.

‘Excuse me, friend, but would you tell me where I might find someone in authority?’

The man smiled at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘There is no authority except the blessed one.’

The man walked on. The Minstrel Boy burst out laughing and staggered round in small circles. Jeb Stuart Ho looked perplexed. He tried again. He went up to a blue-robed figure pushing a wheelbarrow.

‘Where might I find the blessed one?’

The barrow pusher smiled.

‘The blessed one is with all of us, my brother.’

The Minstrel Boy reeled over and slapped Jeb Stuart Ho on the back.

‘They’re worse than you are.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stared at him in surprise.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

The Minstrel Boy was almost helpless with laughter.

‘No, of course you don’t.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked round in confusion. He wondered how he could convey what he wanted. He stretched out and caught hold of a passing blue robe.

‘Can you help me, please?’

The wearer turned and smiled.

‘In what way, my brother?’

‘We are travellers from outside Quahal. We would like shelter, food and some particular information.’

‘You are travellers?’

That’s correct.’

The blue-robed young man frowned.

‘I have never encountered travellers before. Perhaps if you could wait here while I go and seek guidance on the matter …’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded. The young man hurried away. They waited. The black stone threw back the heat of the sun. The blue-robed figures came and went all round them. They paused and smiled, but otherwise paid no attention to the three strangers. Jeb Stuart Ho stared up at the vast building. He had never seen anything so impressive. It towered above him, an irregular but harmonious blend of stairs, rectangular vertical walls, sloping ramps and huge inset slabs of relief carving, soaring to the eventual peak hundreds of metres in the air.

The Minstrel Boy didn’t share his enthusiasm. He stuck his thumbs in his belt and kicked at the paving stones.

‘I got a feeling I ain’t going to like this place.’

The Wanderer grinned at him.

‘You could always try the mountain.’

The Minstrel Boy grinned ruefully.

‘I think I’ll stick with this one, for now.’

Two men in yellow robes appeared at the head of the nearest flight of stairs. They were older than the ones in blue, and looked as though they were enjoying a tanned, healthy middle age. Each time one of the younger men passed them, they acknowledged his formal, bowed-head salute. They hurried down the steps and walked quickly up to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘You are the travellers?’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed stiffly from the waist.

‘We are.’

‘The blessed Joachim is considering granting you an audience. We can offer you food and other minimal comforts until he has reached his decision. If you will follow us.’

The two yellow-robed individuals turned smartly and walked briskly back towards the steps. The three travellers followed them. The Minstrel Boy glanced sideways at the Wanderer.

‘What do you think they mean by minimal comforts?’

‘Doubtless we’ll find out soon enough.’

***

The Alamada was at least a head taller than A.A. Catto. She also looked a good deal heavier. She was muscular and full-bodied, with ample breasts and thighs. She walked out of the big hut with swaggering arrogance. She was naked, except for the same armour over her left arm that A.A. Catto wore. She carried the same flat, leaf-shaped knife and a small round shield.

She walked forward until she was a couple of metres from A.A. Catto. She held the knife almost casually in her left hand. She halted and smiled at A.A. Catto. Her lips were very full and sensual. Her nose was small and slightly flattened. It contrasted with her eyes, which were large and dark. Her face seemed to radiate a dark, very cruel kind of sexuality. She tossed her head, shaking her mane of straight black hair. It hung almost to her waist.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

A.A. Catto couldn’t help admiring the woman. She smiled back, and shook her head.

‘I don’t think so.’

The Alamada raised her knife, and began slowly to circle A.A. Catto. Her body was tense, like a hunting animal. It was oiled like A.A. Catto’s, and as she moved the muscles rippled beneath the skin. A.A. Catto lifted her own knife, and dropped into a crouch. She backed away slowly and cautiously. The Alamada’s lips drew back into something between a grin and a snarl. Her teeth flashed in the firelight.

‘I’m going to kill you for sure.’

‘No, you’re not.’

The two women continued to circle each other. The Alamada attempted to edge closer.

‘You’re not like the others. You’re not the way you’re supposed to be.’

‘I’m different.’

‘You’re small.’

‘That’s a puzzle for you to solve.’

‘It’s your disadvantage.’

‘Maybe.’

The witch queen went on trying to get closer to A.A. Catto, and A.A. Catto in her turn went on keeping the distance between them. From behind the lines of horsemen who ringed the space where the fight was taking place, Billy watched tensely. He held his gun down by his side. The butt was damp and slippery where his palms were sweating.

The Alamada stopped circling A.A. Catto. She crouched absolutely still for an instant. Then, with a shout she leaped forward and slashed at A.A. Catto with a wide, backhanded blow. A.A. Catto twisted and jumped back. The edge of the blade missed her stomach by a matter of centimetres. For the first time A.A. Catto realized what she was involved in. Something inside her went cold. If Billy didn’t go along with the plan, she would die.

The Alamada spun on her heel and swung a chopping overarm blow towards A.A. Catto’s neck. Desperately she threw up the shield, and just managed to catch the blow. It jarred her arm right up to the shoulder. There was a stabbing pain, and her arm went numb. The shield fell to her side. She jumped back, holding the sword in front of her. The Alamada laughed.

‘Are you going to die without a fight?’

‘I’m not going to die.’

‘Oh yes you are, and slowly too, if you don’t put up a fight.’

She swung at A.A. Catto. The knife just touched the skin of her left breast. A thin line of blood appeared. A.A. Catto lunged at the woman. She missed hopelessly. The Alamada lowered her shield and laughed at A.A. Catto.

‘You’ll have to do better than that.’

She spread her arms.

‘Come on, little woman, try again. Try to kill me if you can.’

Blind rage boiled up inside A.A. Catto. She slashed wildly at her. The Alamada twisted her body and the blow went wild. A.A. Catto slashed again. The Alamada jumped back, and she missed again. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She swung at the witch queen again and again, Each time she moved out of the way. A.A. Catto found that she couldn’t touch her. The Alamada kept on laughing and taunting her.

‘Come on, woman. Can’t you do better than that?’

She jabbed at A.A. Catto with the point of her knife. It scarcely touched her shoulder, and left a small wound that oozed blood. A.A. Catto began to get scared. Was Billy going to let her die? There was no way that she could deal with this woman on her own. The Alamada jabbed at her again. Another small wound, this time just above her right breast. A.A. Catto looked round desperately to see if she could see Billy. While her eyes were off the Alamada, she slashed at her again. This time the cut was deeper, and began to bleed quite profusely. A.A. Catto knew she was being slowly cut to pieces.

She made a final, desperate effort to stop the Alamada. She put all her weight behind a single knife thrust straight between the Alamada’s breasts. For a fraction of a second A.A. Catto thought she had succeeded. Then the Alamada whipped up her shield and turned the blow. A.A. Catto completely lost her balance. As she staggered forward, the Alamada kicked her feet away from under her. A.A. Catto sprawled face forward in the dirt. The knife went flying. She rolled over and tried to sit up, but before she could, the Alamada rammed her foot into her throat and pushed her back down. A.A. Catto found herself staring up at the Alamada’s bush of curly black pubic hair. She tried to wriggle away, but the woman was too strong for her.

‘I’m going to kill you now.’

For the first time in her life, A, A. Catto was sick with fear. At the same time, hatred burned inside her for Billy, and the way he’d doublecrossed her. The witch queen raised her knife high above her head. A.A. Catto shut her eyes. It was obviously all over. Then the shot came, and the Alamada’s body fell limply on top of her. She eased the weight off her and sat up. She expected to see Billy struggling with a squad of horsemen, but none of them seemed to have moved. She rolled the body completely off her. A large section of the skull had been blown away by the .70 calibre slug.

A.A. Catto stood up. She deliberately bent down and picked up one of the knives. She started hacking at the body. Her control seemed to snap. Her onslaught became almost sexual in its hysteria. She carved huge gashes in the witch queen’s lifeless body. Her breath came in short sharp gasps. Then, abruptly, the frenzy ran out. She looked disgustedly at the mutilation she had caused. She let the knife fall and turned away. She pulled herself together and, with all the dignity she could muster while she was naked and covered in blood, she walked towards the big hut. The two helmeted horsemen, who stood flanking the door, escorted her inside.

Billy waited to see if anything would happen. He’d fired almost over the shoulders of the line of horsemen, but not one of them had shown any sign of noticing it. Reave and Nancy stood a little way away from him, presumably ready to run if the horsemen did anything to Billy. A.A. Catto vanished inside the big hut, and it seemed as though any chance of retribution had passed. Billy dropped the gun into his pocket, and let some of the tension drain out of his muscles. It had been a terrible strain waiting to fire the shot. There had been a point when he had almost not done it. The vision of himself being impaled on the long thin spears of the horsemen had nearly been too strong.

The question now, as far as Billy could see, was what to do next. He assumed that since the Alamada was dead, A.A. Catto had become the next queen. The horsemen appeared to accept that she had defeated her in a fair fight. The lines of helmeted horsemen who had formed the square began to file into the big hut. Once they were all inside, the horsemen without helmets, who had remained behind the ranks of helmeted figures, picked up the Alamada’s body and dumped it unceremoniously in the fire pit. After this chore was done, they too went inside the big hut. This just left Billy, Reave and Nancy standing in the open space. The smoke from the fire wafted past them. It was heavy with the acrid smell of burned flesh. Billy hurried across to the other two.

‘Do you think we should go inside?’

Nancy looked round the village. There was no sign of life.

‘Everyone else seems to be in there.’

Reave thoughtfully stroked his chin.

‘I suppose A.A. Catto’s queen now?’

It looks that way.’

A kind of toneless singing came from the big hut. Reave pursed his lips.

‘I’m not so sure I want to be one of her subjects.’

Billy grinned sourly.

‘You should know.’

Nancy rubbed her hands together.

‘We can’t stand here for ever.’

‘That’s true.’

‘So, do we go inside?’

‘It’s that or steal some horses and split.’

Nancy glanced pointedly down at her thin catsuit.

‘I don’t think I’m exactly dressed for another trip in the fog,’

‘So we go inside?’

Billy nodded.

‘We go inside.’

It was hot and crowded inside the big hut. The building was arranged like a figure eight with an extra loop added to the bottom. It was basically three circular connecting rooms, laid out in a straight line. The biggest of these was the centre one. It was thronged with horsemen. At one end was a raised dais, and on it was a combination throne, couch and bed, made from dark carved wood. In the middle of a heap of multicoloured cushions lay A.A. Catto. Her armour had been removed, but she was still naked. Two horsemen knelt beside her. They appeared to be treating her wounds with some kind of ointment that they took from a stone jar. A third horseman stooped beside her whispering urgently. A.A. Catto gave him her undivided attention. It seemed to Billy that he was instructing her about either the ritual or her duties. A horseman stood on either side of the dais, rigidly holding a spear.

Behind the dais was the entrance to one of the other, smaller rooms. Billy was later to find it was the queen’s private quarters. It was screened by a large hanging tapestry that depicted some kind of stylized hunting scene. Immediately in front of the dais, almost in the middle of the room, was another stone fire pit. A pile of logs crackled merrily, and the carcass of some large animal turned on a spit. Fat dripped off it, and fell hissing into the fire. The smoke escaped through a small hole in the roof. At least, that was the theory. A good percentage of it just hung in the air. The combination of roast meat and wood smoke gave the place a comforting, if crude, smell.

On the other side of the fire was a low curved table. Behind it sat a line of horsemen on low stools. They had removed their helmets and placed them on the table in front of them. Their spears were stacked in racks along the wall. Behind them sat more horsemen on rows of benches. They cradled their helmets in their laps. They all sang and beat time with their hands, either on table or helmets. It was a strange, guttural dirge with no recognizable words or harmonic structure.

The possession of a helmet seemed to be a crucial badge of rank in the clan. Billy noticed that the ones who had them sat staring at A.A. Catto, singing and clapping. The ones who didn’t scurried backwards and forwards, to and from the third room, which was a kind of storeroom or scullery, serving the others with some sort of fermented drink. It seemed that if you had a helmet you were part of the hunter warrior class, if not, you were a servant. Billy assumed that that was why the horsemen had so readily accepted the idea that Billy, Reave and Nancy were A.A. Catto’s personal slave.

Every eye in the place was fixed on A.A. Catto. Nobody took the slightest notice of either Billy, Reave or Nancy as they stood quietly at the back of the main room. There was an air of expectancy. Billy couldn’t believe that they were simply waiting for the meat to cook, or that they could be that enraptured with A.A. Catto’s skinny body. The only explanation he could think of was that, presently, some kind of ceremony would take place.

He waited for a while, but very soon started to get bored. He glanced at Reave.

‘Do you think anybody would take exception if we got ourselves a drink?’

Reave looked blank.

‘How should I know?’

‘You want to try it?’

‘Hell, why not?’

Nancy looked up from where she was squatting on the floor.

‘You want to get me one?’

Billy pulled a face.

‘I suppose so.’

He and Reave moved quietly into the small room. A line of stone pitchers seemed to contain the booze, or whatever it was. Billy took two earthenware mugs off a shelf and filled them from one of the pitchers. None of the serving men who came and went took any notice of them. They returned to where Nancy was sitting. Billy handed her a mug. She looked at the contents doubtfully.

‘What is it?’

‘Who knows?’

‘Are you going to drink it?’

‘Sure. Just watch me.’

Billy took a hearty swig, and immediately regretted it. The liquid tasted vaguely poisonous and burned his mouth. When he swallowed some, however, it produced a pleasant euphoric glow inside him. The next time he sipped it sparingly. He found himself quickly getting used to it. Neither Nancy nor Reave had touched theirs. They looked at him questioningly.

‘Is it okay?’

‘It’s bad, but it’s not that bad.’

They drank in silence. Billy sank down and squatted on his haunches. He stared at the smoke-blackened beams of the ceiling. He became aware that he was feeling decidedly horny. He wondered if it was something in the drink. There was also the fact that he hadn’t been within reach of a woman since he had left Darlene back at the Leader Hotel. It seemed like that was part of another age. He took another sip from his mug and glanced covertly at Nancy.

‘Uh, Nancy.’

‘Yeah?’

Billy smiled with all the charm he could muster.

‘What say you and me find ourselves a dark corner, huh?’

Nancy looked at Billy as though he was mad.

‘What the hell for?’

‘Uh … I was feeling horny, and was just wondering if maybe you and me might …’

‘You and me?’

‘Why not?’

Nancy’s lip curled.

‘Forget it!’

Billy looked glum.

‘I was only thinking.’

‘Yeah, well, forget it.’

Billy slumped back into his own thoughts. He had just started to develop the idea that Quahal was one of the most tedious bummers that he had ever come across, when things began to happen up on the dais. The first thing Billy noticed was that the singing stopped. An expectant silence fell over the room. Billy stood up to see what was happening. A.A. Catto was standing on the dais with her arms extended. Two of the horsemen who had been attending her came from behind the tapestry screen. They carried a fur trimmed purple robe. A.A. Catto lowered her arms, and they placed the robe over her shoulders. It hung open so most of her body was still on view. The attendants backed away. A slow measured chant started.

‘Hommm … Hommm …’

The horsemen beat time, a heavy ponderous beat. The first horseman at the table stood up and walked slowly towards the dais, keeping in step with the chant.

‘Hommm … Hommm …’

He reached A.A. Catto and stopped. The chant stopped too. The horseman slowly sank to his knees. The silence was loaded with tension. The horseman leaned forward, and placed his mouth between A.A. Catto’s legs. She stiffened. Her eyebrows shot up, then she half smiled and moved her weight so it was bearing down on the horseman’s face. Her hips undulated a little. Reave glanced at Billy.

‘She’ll be loving every minute of this. I don’t think she could have devised a better coronation herself.’

The horseman bowed, touching his head on the ground at A.A. Catto’s feet. Then he stood up, and went slowly back to his seat. The chant began again. The second horseman in line stood up and slowly advanced to the dais. Just like the one before, he dropped to his knees, went down on A.A. Catto for the statutory period, bowed and returned to his place. The chant started up again.

‘Hommm … Hommm … Hommm …’

The third one at the table began moving up for his turn.

‘Hommm … Hommm … Hommm …’

And after him, the fourth and the fifth. One after the other, working from the fire outwards, the horsemen paid their unique tribute to their new queen. Billy looked at Reave in amazement.

‘Is she going to go through the entire clan?’

Reave grimaced.

‘She’s capable of it. Make no mistake about that.’

Billy shook his head in disbelief. The horsemen continued to make their pilgrimage up to the dais. By the time A.A. Catto had worked her way through a third of the men with helmets, she was sweating, her eyes were closed and her legs were beginning to tremble. She was having great difficulty maintaining her formal and dignified cool.

The chant kept on going, and the horsemen kept on coming. At the halfway point, A.A. Catto grabbed the current supplicant by the hair, and let herself fall back on to the cushions, pulling him down with her. From then on she received homage from her subjects in a supine position. Occasionally she would languidly raise a thin white leg in the air. Billy wondered if it signified ecstasy, or was just her way of acknowledging the presence of the rest of the tribe.

The last of the helmeted horsemen backed away from the dais. Billy assumed that the ceremony was all over, but the chant started again, and one of the serving men began the slow march to A.A. Catto’s throne. Billy grinned at Reave.

‘She is going through the whole tribe.’

Reave nodded. He didn’t look in the least surprised. As far as he was concerned, nothing about A.A. Catto could surprise him. The ones without helmets did their bit, and for a moment it seemed as though the ritual was over. Then to Billy’s and Reave’s astonishment the chant started again. Billy’s face dropped in disbelief. Nancy had started walking slowly down the crowded room in strict time to the chant.

‘Hommm … Hommm … Hommm …’

She reached the dais, bowed her head and sank to her knees. As Nancy disappeared into the pile of cushions, Billy swung round to Reave.

‘Are we supposed to go up there?’

‘It’s beginning to look like it. Why? Don’t you fancy the idea?’

Billy grimaced.

‘Not a great deal.’

Reave grinned.

‘I thought you liked eating pussy?’

‘Yeah, but …’

‘But what?’

‘It’s kind of public, and anyway, I’ve got a feeling that she’d look at it as some kind of, I don’t know, a moral victory, she’d think she was humiliating me. You know what I mean?’

Reave grinned.

‘Sure, I know what you mean. She’s a great one for humiliating. I don’t see how you’re going to get out of it.’

Billy twitched uncomfortably.

‘Me neither.’

Nancy seemed to stay in the cushions for a very long time. It was certainly longer than any of the horsemen. Finally she reappeared. She walked back up the room, with a serene smile on her face. The chant began once more. Reave grunted, stood up, and started walking towards the throne. Nancy slumped down next to Billy.

‘Waiting till last, huh?’

Billy scowled.

‘I can’t see no way out of it.’

Nancy raised an eyebrow.

‘I thought you said you were feeling horny?’

‘Not for that.’

Nancy smiled coyly.

‘It was really quite nice.’

‘Is that so?’

Reave didn’t spend anything like as long with A.A. Catto as Nancy had. Before Billy was anything like ready, he had to get reluctantly to his feet and fall into step with the chant.

‘Hommm … Hommm … Hommm.’

Billy walked like a man going to his execution.

‘Hommm … Hommm … Hommm …’

It seemed an immense distance to the dais. He finally reached it. A.A. Catto lay with her eyes closed. He stood looking down at her for a while. Her eyes opened. Her voice was a vibrant purr.

‘Kneel down, Billy.’

Billy pressed his lips together and dropped awkwardly to his knees.

‘Now pay me my dues as queen, Billy.’

Billy closed his eyes and slowly lowered his mouth to A.A. Catto’s damp and somewhat swollen cunt. A.A. Catto smiled happily.

‘I’m sure you’re going to be a very respectful subject.’

***

‘I suppose I could stand this for a while.’

The Minstrel Boy sprawled in his chair, staring at the light reflected in his glass of wine. He was feeling comfortable for the first time since he’d been abducted from the Albert Speer Hotel. The Wanderer sat across the table from him grinning.

‘You’re going to have to stand it until you find some way out of here.’

The Minstrel Boy nodded ruefully.

‘I know that. I was trying to forget it.’

The yellow-robed priests had led the three travellers to a suite of rooms deep inside the ziggurat, and left them there to wait until the blessed Joachim felt like seeing them. They hadn’t locked the door, but the three were effectively prisoners. They all knew that it would be impossible to find their way out through the maze of stairs and corridors that made up the interior of the huge building.

The suite consisted of a fairly large main room, and three small cells that led off it. It was plain but comfortable. The walls were smooth black stone, and the main room was furnished with a square table and four chairs. They were made of some light-coloured wood, decorated with geometric inlays. Each of the cells contained a narrow sleeping pallet. There were no windows in the place, but ample light was provided by a mass of candles in a roughly triangular-shaped fixture that hung from the ceiling.

Shortly after the priests had left, two of the blue-robed lower orders, who seemed to do most of the manual work, turned up with refreshments in the form of a bowl of fruit, a tray of flat biscuit-like pastries, a large jug of wine and glasses. They placed them on the table, and withdrew without a word.

Jeb Stuart Ho took to the place immediately. He ate a little fruit, drank half a glass of wine and withdrew to his cell to meditate, leaving the Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer to linger over the remainder of the jug. The Minstrel Boy drained his glass, and refilled it.

‘I’d like this place a whole lot better if there were a few chicks about.’

The Wanderer’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

‘You won’t find any here.’

‘Don’t I know it.’

‘You’ll maybe find a way to get round the problem.’

‘Huh?’

‘I said you might find a way to get round the problem.’

‘I heard what you said. I was just wondering what exactly you meant by it.’

The Wanderer grinned broadly.

‘I figure you’ll find out.’

The Minstrel Boy scowled.

‘You keep making remarks like that. You’re getting too goddamn mysterious.’

‘What other pleasures have I got left?’

The Minstrel Boy pushed the jug across the table towards him.

‘You could get drunk. It’d make you a bit more tolerable.’

The Wanderer refilled his glass.

‘I won’t argue with you. Did I ever tell you about the time I was down in Port Judas and met this sportin’ gal down on her luck?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘No, but no doubt you’re going to.’

The Minstrel Boy went on drinking while the Wanderer launched into a long, ponderous and occasionally obscene story. It went on and on, and the Minstrel Boy quickly lost track of it. The Wanderer was just winding up for the punch line when there was a soft rapping on the door. The Minstrel Boy’s hand went instinctively to his knife belt.

‘What do you think that is?’

The rapping came again. The Wanderer shrugged.

‘All we can do is find out. I don’t think there’s any call for alarm.’

He raised his voice.

‘Come in.’

The door opened and three men came in. Men was a fairly loose description. They had the bald heads and general appearance of the boys in blue, but that was where the similarity ended. Their figures were slim, almost feminine and they moved with a strange exaggerated daintiness. They wore pink robes of what looked like watered silk, and their eyes were shadowed with some land of blue makeup. The Minstrel Boy suspected that their overlong eyelashes were probably false. When they spoke their voices were soft and high-pitched.

‘We are sent by the blessed one to ensure that all your needs are taken care of.’

The Wanderer raised an eyebrow.

‘We’re doing pretty good.’

‘We are sent to offer you any additional pleasure you might desire.’

The Minstrel Boy glanced up from his drink.

‘Desire?’

He looked carefully up and down each of the three in turn.

‘Just what kind of pleasure did you have in mind?’

The middle one of the three smiled sweetly.

‘Those joyful pleasures of the body bestowed and sanctified by the blessed one, that our flesh might celebrate his glory.’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘Celebrate his glory, hey?’

‘We are at your disposal.’

The Wanderer shook his head.

‘You can leave me out. I’m too old for that sort of thing.’

The Minstrel Boy rose slowly from his chair.

‘I don’t see the harm in celebrating a bit of glory.’

The Wanderer laughed.

‘I thought it was a woman you were so desperate for?’

The Minstrel Boy patted the priest’s bottom.

‘Like you said, I’ll find a way round the problem.’

He turned to the pink-robed priest.

‘Does the blessed one sanctify an old-fashioned blow job?’

‘I’m not familiar with the term, but I’d be happy to accept your instruction.’

‘Good, good, let’s go off into my little room, and do some instructing. You might as well bring one of your buddies, seeing as how grandpappy here doesn’t want to know.’

He poured himself another glass of wine and led the two priests off to one of the empty cells. That left the Wanderer alone with the remaining one. The priest waved a slim white hand in the direction of Jeb Stuart Ho’s still figure.

‘Will your friend have any desire for my services?’

The Wanderer shook his head.

‘I doubt it. He’s too busy meditating, and besides, I think he swore off sex for the duration.’

The priest looked exaggeratedly sad.

‘That is a great pity.’

The Wanderer nodded sympathetically.

‘It sure is. Best you should run along back where you came from.’

The priest bowed, and left without a word. The sounds of revelry began to come from the Minstrel Boy’s cell. It seemed as though the priests were quick to pick up on the instruction. The Wanderer sighed and glanced through the open doorway. The pallet had become a mass of naked, entwined bodies. He sighed deeply and relaxed back in his chair.

***

Billy woke up with a start. He discovered that Nancy had been shaking him. He also discovered that he had a headache and an evil taste in his mouth.

‘What happened?’

‘You passed out.’

‘When?’

‘Last night, after the ceremony, you drank yourself stupid on the local poison and collapsed. We left you here.’

Billy focused his eyes, and looked around. He was still in the large room of the queen’s hut. It was deserted now. The fire had burned down to grey embers and the air was cold and damp. Billy struggled to sit up. Each time he moved he found new parts of him that hurt. ‘Where’s Reave?’

‘The two of you were given a hut down at the end of the village. He went there. You refused. You wanted to be buddies with the horsemen.’

‘What happened?’

‘They ignored you. You clowned about for a bit and passed out.’

Billy shook his head to clear it.

‘I don’t remember any of that.’

‘I’m not surprised, the amount you were drinking.’

Billy got painfully to his feet and staggered out to the scullery. He found a cask of water. A dipper hung drank a little, and sluiced more over his head. Nancy who was still standing in the big room.

‘Is it morning?’

‘Yeah.’

‘They have day and night here?’

‘Every day.’

Billy came back out of the scullery.

‘What’s A.A. Catto doing?’

‘She wants to see you.’

Billy grimaced.

‘Can’t she wait? I’m not up to coping with her yet.’

Nancy glanced meaningfully at him.

‘I wouldn’t keep her waiting.’

‘Why not?’

‘She is queen now.’

‘Shit! She’s only queen because I shot the last one.’

‘I wouldn’t remind her of that.’

‘Isn’t this getting a bit out of hand?’

Nancy began to look uncomfortable.

‘I’d keep my voice down if I were you.’

She gestured to the tapestry behind the throne.

‘She’s only just behind there.’

‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

‘I don’t know. She’s gone a bit funny, after getting to be queen, and the ceremony and all.’

‘It’s gone to her head?’

‘And some.’

Billy’s face became determined.

‘I’m going in there to sort out all this queen business.’

Nancy quickly put a hand on his arm.

‘Wait. Wait just a minute and listen to what I have to say, will you?’

‘Okay. You’ve got my undivided.’

Nancy hesitated, as though summoning up her courage.

‘We’ve never got on too well, have we?’

Billy shook his head.

‘No, not really.’

‘I feel bad talking to you like this, but there’s no one else.’

‘So talk.’

‘I’m worried.’

‘About A.A. Catto?’

‘She’s gone very strange.’

‘How?’

‘She had one of the horsemen in there all night. She was torturing him.’

‘So? She did that to Reave all the time.’

‘I think she probably killed him. She was right over the edge.

I mean, I’ve seen a few things. I don’t shock easy, but this started to do me in. I couldn’t take it.’

‘You were in there with her?’

Nancy looked at the floor.

‘Yeah.’

‘Helping her?’

‘With a couple more to keep me amused.’

‘Didn’t they object to what she was doing to their mate? They’re big strong lads.’

Nancy shook her head.

‘They can’t.’

‘Can’t?’

‘She can do what she likes with them. They’re programmed to do exactly what the queen wants. She could slaughter the lot of them. They wouldn’t stop her.’

Billy smiled grimly.

‘If she did that, she’d have no more to play with.’

‘She could send for another lot from the valley.

‘From the valley?’

‘I’ve found out a lot about this place. There’s a stuff receiver down in the valley, in the ziggurat, that big building we saw.’

Billy glanced over his shoulder at the entrance to A.A. Catto’s room. He lowered his voice.

‘Does she know this?’

Nancy nodded.

‘Sure, she told me.’

Billy’s face was very serious.

‘What else did you learn?’

‘Plenty. You know those helmets? They’re like a badge of rank, a pecking order. It starts from the ones sitting at the table, right down to the ones without helmets, servants to the rest.’

Billy nodded.

‘I kind of figured that.’

‘They change round once a month, the order or something.’

‘Once a month?’

‘Right.’

‘How the hell do they figure months?’

Nancy grinned, despite her concern.

‘They calculate it on the queen’s menstrual cycle.’

Billy laughed.

‘A.A. Catto’s going to confuse them. She doesn’t have any, according to Reave. She never allowed herself to reach puberty.’

‘She’s going to now. She doesn’t have any retarding drugs. She’s growing with a vengeance.’

Billy looked thoughtful.

‘I imagine that’s affecting her mind.’

‘Probably.’

‘I suppose she could always get more from the stuff receiver.’

‘That and a whole lot …’

Before Nancy could finish, there was a petulant shout from behind the tapestry.

‘Nancy!’

Nancy spun round, looking a little pale.

‘Yes!’

‘Have you woken up Billy yet?’

‘Yes!’

‘Then get him in here.’

Nancy looked urgently at Billy.

‘You’d better get in there. Don’t keep her waiting.’

Billy sighed and hurried across the room. He pulled back the tapestry and stepped through into the queen’s private lair. The sight of it was quite a surprise. Most of the floor space was taken up by the largest bed Billy had ever seen. It was piled high with cushions, pillows and rich furs. Two poles supported a tentlike overhead canopy. The walls were hung with mirrors and lavish embroideries. There were a number of chests and cupboards. The contents were scattered on the floor, as though A.A. Catto had been going through them in some kind of exploratory frenzy. There were candles everywhere, and a brazier of hot coals stood in an alcove, heating the room and filling the air with the heavy sweet smell of incense.

All this was much as Billy had expected. The real shock to his system waited for him in a clear space of floor opposite the bed. A thick heavy post, about half as tall again as a man, and carved into a stylized phallic shape, was set firmly in the stone flags. The horribly mutilated body of a man hung from it in chains. A helmeted guard stood beside him gripping his spear, like a statue, and staring straight ahead. A rack containing a comprehensive range of torture implements was on the wall nearby. Many of them had quite obviously been used very recently.

A.A. Catto was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. She wore a feminine version of the horsemen’s outfit, wide silk trousers bound up with thongs, a tunic of soft white fur and silver armour covering her arms. The clothes seemed to fit very well, considering the Alamadas had been much larger women. She gestured imperiously at Billy.

‘I want to talk to you.’

‘I …’

Billy’s head and stomach were still reeling from the sight of the figure on the post. A.A. Catto glanced casually at her victim.

‘It bothers you, does it?’

She snapped her fingers at the guard.

‘Fetch some people to remove that thing.’

The guard swiftly obeyed and left the room. Moments later he returned with two of the helmetless servants. They removed the body from the post and dragged it unceremoniously from the room. A.A. Catto turned her attention back to Billy.

‘Now can we talk?’

Billy wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.

‘I suppose so.’

‘You’re a terrible weakling.’

Billy shrugged.

‘If you say so.’

A.A. Catto stood up very slowly. ‘I don’t like your attitude.’ She began to pace up and down. ‘I’ll be charitable, however. You may well be having trouble adjusting to the new situation.’ Billy was still confused. ‘The new situation?’

‘The situation of my being queen. I have absolute power here. I can do anything. Anything at all.’

Billy had never seen her quite like this. The weight of the gun in his pocket was reassuring, but he still chose his words with great care.

‘May I ask what you intend to do?’

A.A. Catto smiled nastily at him.

‘That’s more what I expect.’

She resumed her pacing.

‘I do not share the previous rulers’ enthusiasm for this dreary primitivism. I have discovered that there is a stuff receiver in that building we saw in the valley. I intend to use the receiver to obtain a supply of the modern necessities. Do you understand?’

Billy nodded.

‘I think so. What about the globes, though, won’t they destroy everything directly it arrives down the beam?’

‘They can be deactivated from the same point.’

‘Aren’t there people in the valley?’

A.A. Catto halted.

‘Yes, why?’

Billy avoided looking directly at her.

‘Won’t they be liable to object to what you want to do?’

A.A. Catto looked surprised.

‘Does that matter?’

‘If they decided to resist your plan.’

‘They won’t.’

‘Why not?’

A.A. Catto looked at Billy as though he was simple-minded.

‘Because I’ve decided to destroy them.’

Billy’s mouth dropped open.

‘Destroy them?’

A.A. Catto’s voice became very brisk and matter of fact.

‘It’s the only solution. It stops them causing trouble, and, in any case, they’re no use to me, no use at all. They are also reputed to have very unpleasant ideas and habits. I think it’s best if they were liquidated before we do anything else.’

Billy’s mind reeled. He could see exactly why Nancy had been so disturbed. A.A. Catto was obviously quite out of control. He looked at her guardedly.

‘You’ll send your horsemen into the valley?’

‘I’ll lead them.’

‘And kill all the people there?’

‘Of course.’

Billy looked at the floor. He couldn’t think exactly what to say. A.A. Catto looked at him impatiently.

‘What’s the matter with you?’

Billy looked round helplessly.

‘I was just wondering why you were telling me all this.’

‘You will be coming with us.’

Billy’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Me?’

‘You have proved quite resourceful in the past. I will keep you as an adviser as long as you prove useful.’

Billy closed his eyes for an instant. It was almost too much to take in. He wished that he was back at the Leader Hotel, or in Pleasant Gap, or almost anywhere.

‘When do we ride for the valley?’

‘Later today. My horsemen are making ready, isn’t it exciting?’

Billy looked at the backs of his hands.

‘I suppose so.’

A.A. Catto smiled sympathetically at him.

‘I expect it’s all a little overwhelming right now. You’ll enjoy it, once the killing starts.’

***

The build-up to an audience with the blessed Joachim was a planned performance. Jeb Stuart Ho, the Wanderer and the Minstrel Boy had been kept waiting for a couple of hours. They had been fed, given drinks, and, in the case of the Minstrel Boy, entertained soundly by two pink-robed devotees. When all these preliminaries were complete, an escort of yellow-robed priests arrived at their suite of rooms.

‘The blessed one has decided, in his wisdom, that you will be allowed an audience. We have come to escort you to his wondrous presence.’

There were six of them. The Minstrel Boy wondered if it was a guard of honour, or simply a guard. They moved out into the corridor, and the priests formed up around them. Three in front, and three behind. They started walking. It seemed to the Wanderer that it was another stage in the whole process. They seemed to walk for miles along the echoing corridors of black stone. The turns and right angles soon destroyed the travellers’ sense of direction inside the building. The only thing they knew for sure was that they were consistently going up from one level to another. They finally arrived at the foot of a flight of wide, imposing stairs. As far as Jeb Stuart Ho could calculate they were very near the apex of the building.

At the head of the stairs there were a pair of polished steel doors. An emblem of a strange impossible bird was worked in dramatic relief on the metal. The small procession started up the stairs. As they reached the halfway mark, the doors began to swing slowly open. They reached the threshold of the blessed Joachim’s inner sanctum. The priests fell to their knees and touched their foreheads on the floor. Jeb Stuart Ho inclined his head slightly, but the Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer just stood and looked around.

The room was lavish. It was long and narrow, almost like a giant corridor with a high vaulted ceiling. The black stone walls had been polished to the smoothness of glass and flowing designs of weird composite animals were inlaid in them in white metal. Odd wing-shaped devices hung from the ceiling supporting hundreds of candles. Their polished steel facets reflected the light on to the mirrored walls. There seemed to be tiny points of light everywhere they looked. Two long lines of silent yellow-robed priests formed an avenue all the way down the room. At the end of the avenue was another flight of steps. They were covered with a white, thick-piled carpet. A flock of the pink-robed acolytes were arranged decoratively around the foot of them. At the top of the steps was a throne made of the same black stone as the walls. It was piled deep in white cushions. Behind it was a huge peacock fan of hammered steel. The blessed Joachim sat among the cushions.

The three travellers couldn’t see the blessed one too well from the far end of the room. The Minstrel Boy looked down at the priests. They still had their foreheads pressed against the floor. He turned to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Are we going to stand here for ever, or are we going to walk up there and get ourselves an audience?’

‘I suppose we should speak to him.’

He glanced at the Wanderer.

‘What do you think?’

The Wanderer shrugged.

‘Shit, let’s go up there.’

They stepped over the kneeling priests, and began slowly towards the throne. There was a strange tension growing in the room. Three hard-bitten warriors had marched into a world of flimsy fantasy. The contrast created a charge in the air. Even Jeb Stuart Ho swaggered a little as they walked between the rows of priests.

They came closer to the throne. They started to be able to make out the features of the blessed Joachim. He sat among the cushions like a flabby buddha. He was fat to the point of obesity, with pale pink baby-like flesh. He was totally bald. His features were soft and indistinct, as though they were scarcely formed. His eyes were small, and of a pale watery blue.

‘Are you the thtwangerth?’

He also lisped. The Minstrel Boy suppressed a grin. The giant production for this fat, lisping, overgrown child. He could hardly believe it. Jeb Stuart Ho, however, seemed to take the whole thing a little more seriously. He bowed formally.

‘I am Jeb Stuart Ho, an executive of the brotherhood.’

The blessed Joachim nodded gravely.

‘The bwotherhood, I thee.’

He waved a limp, pudgy hand towards the Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer.

‘And who are thethe two?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned and nodded with uncouth friendliness.

‘People call me the Minstrel Boy and him …’

He jerked his thumb at the Wanderer.

‘They call him the Wanderer.’

‘The Minthtwel Boy, the Wandewer. What kind of nameth are thethe?’

The Minstrel Boy put his foot on the second step and rested his elbow on his knee. He seemed set on acting out a kind of country boy charade for the fat little pseudo-deity.

‘Well, blessed Joachim, sir. I don’t rightly know what kind of names those are, but they’re the only ones we got.’

The blessed Joachim took some time to digest this information. He gestured to the nearest of the pink-robed devout. The man quickly scampered to his side and began mopping his bald head with a piece of silk.

‘What do you people want here? Thith ith no plathe for thtwangerth.’

The Minstrel Boy’s grin broadened.

‘Well, blessed Joachim, sir. I’ll tell you. Him, that one …’

He nodded at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘… he came here looking for a woman, and me and the other one, we’re just looking for a way out.’

Joachim looked scandalized.

‘A woman? A way out?’

‘That’s all.’

‘There are no women here, and thertainly no way to leave Quahal.’

The idea flitted through the Wanderer’s mind that maybe the reason the place was called Quahal was that the name could be pronounced correctly even with a lisp. He was about to speak, when Jeb Stuart Ho moved forward.

‘If I might explain …’

The blessed Joachim was beginning to look petulant.

‘Pleathe do. I do not like what I’ve heard tho far

‘I am here on a mission of vital importance for the brotherhood. I am searching for one particular woman. The men with me have helped me track her to Quahal. We know the woman is somewhere in Quahal. It is my desire to find her, and theirs to return to where they came from.’

The Minstrel Boy glanced at Jeb Stuart Ho and grinned at Joachim.

‘He talks really concise and pretty, don’t he?’

The blessed Joachim was silent. As Jeb Stuart Ho had been speaking, he’d appeared to sink down into his cushions. He sat staring at the executive in his black fighting suit and his array of weapons. He seemed almost to slip into a trance, but at the last moment he pulled out of it, and spoke.

‘Thewe are no women in thith part of Quahal.’

Jeb Stuart Ho spread his hands.

‘Then I must go to the mountain and find her.’

‘If she went to the mountain she ith almotht thertainly dead. My thithter Alamada will have killed her.’

‘I must still go and look for sure.’

Joachim beckoned to one of the yellow-robed priests, who approached the throne with lowered eyes. He and the blessed one muttered together for a while, and then he returned to his place in the line. Joachim turned his attention back to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I have thome information that might help you. I keep the dwelling of my thithter under conthtant obthervation. She hath thome dithguthting habith. It would appear that a woman hath awived at the village, and a fight hath taken not know if it wath my thithter or the woman you theek who pwevailed.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded. At last it seemed as though the end of his quest was in sight. He did his best to conceal his eagerness.

‘If that is the case, I must go there at once.’

The blessed Joachim showed signs of relief.

‘Go. I will pwovide you with a guide. You have my blething.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed, and turned on his heel. A priest joined him. Their exit from the room proved to be a little absurd. It appeared that the priests were forbidden to turn their backs on the blessed one. Ho observed no such niceties. He strode quickly towards the steel doors with the priest attempting to keep up with him walking backwards in a half crouch.

When Jeb Stuart Ho had gone, a pink-robed acolyte once more mopped Joachim’s head with a silken cloth. The Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer looked at each other, and then at him.

‘What about us?’

Joachim remained silent for almost a minute. Finally he shook his head.

‘Thewe ith no way by which you can leave Quahal.’

The Minstrel Boy exploded.

‘That’s bullshit!’

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘With respect, that’s bullshit.’

‘I fail to underthtand.’

The Wanderer stepped in.

‘There is a stuff receiver in the ziggurat. It would be very simple to order transport and stasis generators for us.’

As the Wanderer spoke, the entire room became noticeably agitated. Joachim made weak nervous gestures.

‘No! No! Thethe thingth do not egthitht.’

The Wanderer began to get angry.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course they do. There’s got to be a giant system of generators keeping the whole of Quahal stable.’

Joachim’s voice rose to a high-pitched shriek.

‘Thith ith hewethy.’

The Wanderer shrugged.