The Night of the Swarm

17

On their last day in Ularamyth the summer warmth still held.

At least it did here, low in the crater on a sunny morning. Clover and phlox and mistflower were blooming; a dragonfly landed on Thasha’s arm. But when she raised her eyes to the mountains she saw fresh snow on the peaks. Autumn was advancing; the Swarm was loose and growing by the day; and the Chathrand was still sailing northwards, leaving them ever further behind.

For several days Lord Arim’s scouts had been returning to Ularamyth, and all their talk was of enemies: hrathmogs, Plazic soldiers, worse creatures they were reluctant to name. Thasha had a feeling that the path to the sea would be hacked through the bodies of many foes.

Hercol had asked Corporal Mandric to oversee their physical readiness, and he’d been at it as only a Turach could: inspecting their limbs, the digits of their hands, the soles of their feet. He’d made them get haircuts and start the day with sprints. He’d forced them to double their meal size and sleep ten hours a night and climb the crater walls twice daily with heavy packs. Whatever lay ahead they would face it strong.

But Thasha had a more immediate concern. She was in the northeast quarter of Ularamyth, a mile or two from the shores of Osir Delhin. She had climbed a little ridge overlooking a forest of bamboo, which seethed in the wind like an emerald surf. From where she stood, the path snaked down the ridge to a shady clearing. There on the moist grass lay Neeps and Sergeant Lunja, asleep.

The small boy was curled like a child. Shirtless, he lay with his back to Lunja and his head on her arm. His face serene, his skin unearthly pale against her midnight black. Lunja’s other arm held him close, her half-webbed hand spread open on his chest. She was a magnificent soldier, muscled like Neda, tall as Hercol.

Thasha had been sent to find them. She’d been warned what to expect. This was the heart of the treatment, Neeps’ only chance. To hold off the mind-plague he had to pass into nuhzat at least once. Mr Bolutu said that only one human in a thousand had been able to enter nuhzat in the old days. The selk doctors agreed. ‘It was not the yearnings of the body that mattered,’ one of them had explained. ‘Dlomic prostitutes never brought their human clients to nuhzat, however much they pleased them otherwise. Bali Adro investigations of the plague made that much very clear. Only trust could occasion the nuhzat. The deepest trust, the most intimate.’

He’d meant love, of course. Neeps had to feel love for a dlomu. And how could anyone make that happen? Spells and potions were useless, Ramachni had told them: infatuation could be generated, and certainly lust. But the nuhzat was mysterious and very personal. It could not be induced like a reaction of the nerves. If it came at all, it came with sincere emotion, a thing no spell could force.

Pazel had objected. ‘I happen to know that love can be. . induced. By magic. I’ve seen it happen.’

‘You are speaking of murths,’ said Ramachni, ‘but the divers enchanted by murth-girls are not really in love, only confused long enough for the murths to kill them.’

Pazel had shaken his head, blushing, and Thasha had come to his aid. ‘He’s not talking about the divers, Ramachni. He means Klyst, the murth-girl whose spell backfired, so that she fell in love with him.’

Ramachni had looked at Pazel in fascinated surprise. ‘It lasted,’ sputtered Pazel, ‘a long, long time. She followed me, followed the Chathrand.’ He raised his hand to touch his collarbone, where Klyst’s tiny shell lay beneath his skin.

Ramachni gazed at him another moment, then shook his head. ‘The murth-world is a place beyond your knowledge, or mine. But I know this much, Pazel Pathkendle: a facade can sometimes grow into true feelings, if the potential was there all along.’

Neeps turned over, reached for Lunja without opening his eyes, lay still again with a hand in her hair. It was hard for Thasha to accept that no magic had brought them to this point. Lunja had agreed that day when she rose up from the stream, and set to work, and the work had led here. They’re lovers, probably. What does it matter. I hope they are. Even Marila would want it if she knew.

She walked down the ridge the way she had come, then called out for Neeps as though trying to locate him. After a moment Neeps replied with a befuddled shout.

Thasha walked to the clearing. Lunja was gone; Neeps was pulling on his shirt. No one would question them; no one would ask them to explain. But when Neeps approached her his eyes were not hiding a thing.

‘You know,’ he said, scowling. ‘Don’t pretend, for Rin’s sake. You know.’

What was she to say? ‘They told me you’d be here. The two of you, I mean.’

He was very angry. Did he think she was laughing at him?

‘They tried everything before resorting to this. They had me drink something that made my gums bleed. It didn’t work. Lord Arim tried selk-magic and that didn’t work. Ramachni put me in the healing sleep. By the next morning he knew it was useless.’

‘We were there, Neeps. We saw.’

‘Prince Olik said the nuhzat isn’t dangerous, or even unpleasant. But this is mucking terrible for her. Not because humans are so strange. Oh no, it’s because we’re not strange enough. She’s seen us all her life, you know. In cages, zoos, sometimes in the bush. When her family went for picnics her mother used to let her toss carrots, bits of bread. Later we weren’t around so much. The wild ones are mostly dead and gone. They’re rotten hunters, and fragile, and so mucking stupid. When the dlomu stop feeding them they just starve.’

He was raving, but he couldn’t stop. ‘Then one day some of these pale animals show up and Pitfire, they can talk. And what happens? Straight away her prince asks Lunja to march off with these animals into the wilderness, and she goes. Right to the Black Tongue and the flame-trolls and the Infernal Forest, which is to say right to the blary Pits. Her friends get slaughtered one by one. Then she finds out that she can’t even go home, because now her prince is an outlaw, and she’ll be punished for helping him, helping us, and she has a brother in that city, Thasha, and two nieces, and a normal dlomic man who might have married her. And when she’s already given everything to protect these crazy, ugly animals, it turns out that one of them needs-’

He paused; he was gasping for breath. Thasha reached for him but he jerked sharply away. He gazed at her as though expecting the worst.

‘You think Lunja’s been complaining, don’t you? Well forget it. Not one word. It’s just me thinking, putting the pieces together, and how am I supposed to thank her, Thasha, she’s so mucking kind, and inside I know she’s disgusted, she has to be-’

‘But you’re not,’ she said.

Neeps swung at her. Thasha ducked the blow; she had guessed where this was heading. He swung again; she jumped back out of range. The third time his fist grazed her cheek. Then she tripped him easily and threw him flat on his back.

‘I love you,’ she said, feeling a fool.

He stared: that had caught him off guard. He lay on the turf for a moment, winded, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. Then Thasha helped him to his feet.

‘It isn’t working,’ he said at last. ‘She watches me, watches my eyes for the change. It hasn’t happened. What if it never does?’

Thasha pulled him close and held him until she felt his breath start to slow, and the rigidness leave his muscles. ‘Do you know what Hercol would tell you?’ she said. ‘You’ve found your path-’

‘Now close your mouth and walk it.’

Neeps let her go. He was smiling, a forced smile if Thasha had ever seen one. Then the smile vanished and he looked her straight in the eye.

‘You’ll tell Marila what this was about, won’t you? I mean if something happens and I don’t get the chance? You have to. Oh Thasha, if she ever heard a rumour, or some nasty joke. . Will you do that for me? Promise?’

‘Cross that one off your list, you fool. I’ll tell her. I promise.’

Neeps’ eyes pinched shut. He nodded. Thasha took his arm, and together they went looking for their friends.

The meeting was to occur in Thehel Bledd, the Temple of the Wolves, a place forbidden to them until today. Pazel was hurrying towards it along a trail through the oak grove when he met Hercol and Ramachni.

‘I’ve been lost for an hour,’ he said. ‘There are three or four ways to get everywhere in this land, and twice as many to get nowhere you’ve seen before. Aren’t we running late?’

‘Not at all,’ said Ramachni. ‘The temple is quite near. Save your strength for tomorrow and walk with us. As it happens we very much need to talk.’

Pazel looked up. ‘This is about Thasha, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Hercol. ‘Along with Neeps, we are her closest friends. And you of course are more than a friend.’

Pazel said nothing to that. He loved these two, but he had become wary of them both. In the bitter end he feared they might be capable of sacrificing Thasha. That did not make them evil; it might even make them what Alifros needed to survive. Rin knew Thasha was capable of sacrificing herself. But he, Pazel, could not sacrifice her. Not unless he could go with her, into whatever death or transformation she faced.

‘This wall inside Thasha-’ Ramachni began.

‘I’ve told you what Erithusme said five times over,’ said Pazel. ‘It’s between them, and it won’t let them trade places. It won’t let Thasha hide in that “cave” in her mind, or let Erithusme take control of her body and come fully back to life. And that’s all. Thasha can barely feel the thing; Erithusme can’t find out what it is. Maybe Thasha built it herself, unconsciously. Or maybe Arunis put it inside her somehow, before he died.’

‘I do not know if he ever had such power,’ said Ramachni, ‘and even if he did, to implant such a spell would have required him to touch her, and for rather longer than an instant.’ The mage looked at each of them. ‘Has he ever done so?’

Hercol shook his head. ‘Never.’

Pazel agreed. ‘And he could have, when we were locked up in Masalym. He never tried.’

‘When we fought him on the Chathrand, he summoned darkness, just before he fled the ship,’ said Hercol. ‘He might have touched Thasha then. But the darkness was brief, and he was desperate, fighting for his life against us all.’

‘The spell could have reached Thasha by means of an object, if she kept it on her person long enough,’ said Ramachni. ‘That was his approach with her mother’s necklace. But when he cursed the necklace Arunis did not know of the connection between Thasha and Erithusme. You witnessed his shock on Dhola’s Rib, when he glimpsed the truth at last. Think carefully: has she been given anything else that might have come from the sorcerer?’

‘No,’ said Pazel.

‘No,’ agreed Hercol. ‘Since the incident with the necklace, Thasha has been wary of gifts from any quarter, I am glad to say. However-’ He paused, glancing uneasily at Pazel.

‘Go on, say it.’

‘What if the object was Fulbreech?’

‘Fulbreech?’ cried Pazel.

‘He was, after all, the sorcerer’s tool,’ said Hercol.

And he touched her, thought Pazel, feeling suddenly ill. Many times. For longer than an instant.

‘If Arunis had the power to infect her mind at all, Fulbreech could indeed have been the agent,’ said Ramachni. ‘Pazel, have you spoken to her of those encounters?’

‘No!’

‘She would have felt the magical intrusion, for a moment at least. One of us must ask her.’

Pazel took a deep breath. ‘She’s ashamed of the whole business,’ he said. ‘Of course she shouldn’t be; she was brilliant. But playing along with his lies, pretending to want him, to be under his spell — honestly, Hercol, it’s about the nastiest thing you could have asked her to do.’

‘And you and she both know why I did so,’ said Hercol.

Pazel nodded, reluctantly. By playing Fulbreech, they had almost succeeded in killing Arunis back on the Chathrand. And would have, he recalled bitterly, if he, Pazel, had not interfered.

‘I will speak to Thasha,’ said Hercol. ‘Pazel is right: I put her up to the foul game.’

Ramachni shook his head. ‘On second thought, I think it must be me. This is a matter of spells, and my questions to her may be more precise. Besides, I will not shame her. There are some advantages to not being human.’

They passed on through the trees, through the rich smell of loam and the flutter of unseen wings. ‘Ramachni,’ said Pazel at last, ‘do you trust her, completely?’

‘What a question!’ said the mage. ‘Thasha has proven herself beyond my wildest hopes. I would place the fate of all the worlds in her hand without a moment’s hesitation, if I could.’

Pazel looked at him keenly. ‘I was talking about Erithusme,’ he said. ‘Can you say as much about her?’

Ramachni stopped walking.

‘Because I just remembered,’ said Pazel, ‘how you didn’t know who had created the magic wall around the Chathrand’s stateroom. And it was Erithusme; she told me so. It’s a bit odd that she kept something like that from you, don’t you think?’

Ramachni’s deep black eyes fixed on him. ‘Listen to me, lad,’ he said. ‘Since the dawn of woken life on Alifros, in days so ancient even the selk have forgotten them, only a handful of beings have ever been born with utter mastery of magic inscribed in their souls. Erithusme is one. She did not know the power latent in her until the Nilstone awakened it — that is true. But what matters is that she never let the Stone enslave her. What matters is that she was noble enough to be satisfied with greatness and spurn omnipotence. A lesser being would have clung to the Nilstone even as it killed her, built keeps and castles, raised enfortressed islands in which to guard the cursed thing. Erithusme gave it up. She knew its rightful place was not Alifros but the land of the dead, and tried to send it there. What further proof of her intentions do you require?’

Pazel had no answer. He did require more, but how to ask for it? Even Ramachni might have a blind spot, and if he did it was surely for his mistress, the one who trained him as a mage.

‘Some day,’ he said, ‘I’d like to hear the story of your childhood, Ramachni.’

‘I shall be glad to tell you, at the appropriate time,’ said Ramachni. ‘Perhaps if we rejoin the ship, and start the crossing, and lie becalmed for half a year upon the Ruling Sea.’

Pazel smiled, but could not laugh. He was uneasy still. Then he heard footfalls behind him. To his surprise it was Neda, running to catch up with them, and for once unescorted. When she arrived she amazed him further by kissing him on both cheeks, and then looking at him with the plain, frank, critical eye of an older sister, rather than that of a warrior, or a priest.

He studied her, alarmed. There was something in her face that was liberated, or unhinged. ‘Neda,’ he said, ‘what in Pitfire’s happened to you?’

‘I spoke with our mother,’ she said.

Thasha and Neeps saw the wolves before they saw the temple. They were still in the bamboo grove. A pair of the regal animals, coal-black and chalk-white, bounded onto the trail.

‘Welcome, rare birds of the North,’ said the white wolf. ‘Valgrif spoke of you, but we have only seen the little ones — the women so small our cubs try to pounce on them. Come quickly: Lord Arim awaits.’

Thehel Bledd was a large complex with several halls, and many long rectangular pools that mirrored the surrounding mountains, and marble terraces of differing heights that stood open to the sky. Parts of the temple grounds were half lost in vines and creepers and the ubiquitous bamboo; others, swept clean, appeared to enjoy more frequent use. Many wolves padded through the temple, watching them with bright, intelligent eyes.

Rounding the corner of a large hall they came suddenly on Pazel and Neda. ‘Thasha!’ Pazel cried. ‘Come here, listen to Neda! You won’t believe your ears!’

Neda was changed — there was a directness to her look that Thasha had never seen before — and what she told them changed Thasha too, or at least made her weep with joy and longing. She asked Neda repeat it again and again, in her poor Arquali, until Pazel could not stand it and rattled it all off in one breath.

‘Is true, sister,’ said Neda, aglow. ‘Your father being fine.’

‘But — friends?’ said Neeps, looking at them dubiously. ‘Her dad, and your witch-mum?’

‘Why not?’ said Pazel. ‘Mom’s a little crazy-’

‘Very crazy,’ said Neda.

‘-but she’s never been a fool. And the admiral, why, he’s capable of anything.’

‘Is what mother saying, too,’ said Neda.

‘And Maisa,’ said Thasha, ‘hiding out in the blary Fens. It’s a blary miracle. Pazel, we have to tell Hercol.’

‘I am telling,’ said Neda.

‘She means she told him already,’ said Pazel.

Neda looked at Thasha curiously. ‘When I am saying “Empress Maisa” I think Hercol getting cry. But no, no tears.’

‘What did he do?’ said Thasha.

Neda looked unsettled. ‘He being quiet; then praying little bit. Then saying if I not sfvantskor he kissing me like no woman ever before his life.’

They might have talked a great deal longer, but the wolves urged them on. A moment later Valgrif himself bounded into view. ‘Good!’ he said. ‘Now you are all accounted for, save Sergeant Lunja. Come, we are about to begin.’

‘Valgrif, you’re hurt,’ said Neeps. And so he was: a white bandage had been tied about his ankle, and his ear was torn.

‘I have killed five servants of the Raven Society,’ said the wolf. ‘Four fell quickly, but the last was a terrible dog, an athymar. That battle was ugly, but I prevailed, and the bodies will never be found. Lord Arim sent many wolves to the mountains. They are all back now, save my sons — and all with evil news I fear.’

The wolves led them through a few more twists and turns, and at last through a stone gate. Beyond, a crumbling stair led down to what Thasha presumed was the temple’s innermost terrace. Here a round stone table awaited them, upon which fruit and bread and decanters of selk wine had been set. The other travellers, except for Lunja, were here already. There were also some half-dozen selk, among them Thaulinin and Lord Arim. Nolcindar was not present; in fact Thasha realised that she had not seen the warrior for many days.

‘Citizens,’ said Lord Arim, ‘you deserve full honours and a splendid farewell. Indeed, I had hoped to show you something of the esteem we hold you in — you who felled Arunis, and recovered the Stone from his keeping. But that cannot be. We must have a war-council, and a brief one at that. One of you is missing, but we dare not wait for her. Come and drink a cup with us, and let us begin.’

‘What’s keeping Lunja?’ Neeps murmured to Thasha. ‘She only meant to go and bathe in the stream. She shouldn’t be this late.’

The selk poured everyone a cup of dark wine — even the wolves drank a little, from a brass bowl on the terrace. Then Thaulinin helped Lord Arim to a chair, and the others sat down as well. Ramachni leaped onto the table and sat between Thasha and Hercol. The ixchel settled beside the mage.

‘You have heard,’ said Lord Arim, ‘that we sent scouts into the world beyond. Now they have spoken: Ularamyth is all but surrounded. Macadra may have learned that the Nilstone came inland with the sorcerer, or she may still be uncertain whether it did so or was taken from Masalym aboard your ship. But either way she has landed forces in the Peninsula on a scale never seen before. No, they will not find the Secret Vale, but there can hardly be a path between here and the coast that her forces are not watching. No great legions of soldiers await us: the land is too extensive for that. Macadra has rather spread her forces thin, like the strands of a spider web — and therein lies the danger. Is it not so, Ambrimar’s son?’

‘It is, Lord,’ said Thaulinin, ‘for while there are many paths to the sea, Macadra too has her riders, and they are swift. And should they spot us on any of those paths, those riders will fly before us, sounding the alarm, and her forces will converge between us and the path we have chosen. And remember that those paths are long. We might kill any number of her servants, but we will not kill unnoticed for sixteen days running, all the way to the Ilidron Coves. If we disturb Macadra’s web but once, we will never reach the sea.’

‘And we do not have sixteen days,’ said Hercol. ‘For after the march there is a great sea journey we must somehow accomplish. And with every hour that passes the Great Ship moves a bit further north.’

‘I told you, swordsman,’ said Cayer Vispek, looking sternly at Hercol. ‘We have lingered too long in this place of soft beds and sweet music! It has lulled us to sleep, or into pastimes unworthy of us. And now the length of the road dismays you? Thaulinin warned us of it when we met him on Sirafstoran Torr.’

‘I do not speak in dismay,’ said Hercol, ‘only in observance of fact. Sixteen days is too long.’

‘If you would blame someone for the length of our stay, Cayer, blame me,’ said Ramachni. ‘I counselled against moving in ignorance, and nothing else could we have done before the return of Lord Arim’s scouts. But it is true that we have run out of time. The Chathrand’s northward progress is one reason. Another is the growth of the Swarm of Night.’

He looked at the assembled faces. ‘You know what the Swarm is, and you know Arunis dredged the River of Shadows until he found it, and used the power of the Nilstone to bring it forth. Some of you know as well that our hosts have seen it from the mountaintops in recent days. Now I will tell you how it kills — and why.

‘The Swarm was created to patrol the border of death’s kingdom, to stop the dead from spilling out into Agaroth, and attempting to migrate back in the direction of the living lands. Whenever a breach in the border wall appears, the Swarm falls upon any of the dead who pass through it, and drives them back to their proper place. The larger the breach, the stronger the Swarm grows in order to contain it. But in the living world all of this goes awry. Death still attracts the Swarm, and death’s dark energy can still feed it and make it grow. Small or scattered deaths will pass unnoticed: their energy will still leave Alifros in the natural way, along with the spirits of the deceased. But a great catastrophe — a war, a famine, an earthquake — is quite different. The Swarm flies to such horrors, and if they are still unfolding, it drops upon them and makes them complete.’

‘Complete?’ said Big Skip. ‘You mean it kills everyone that hasn’t yet been killed?’

‘Everyone and everything within its compass,’ said Ramachni. ‘Trees, grass, insects, people. And then, like a sated vulture, it rises again into the clouds and moves on.’

‘It has already happened at least once,’ said Thaulinin. ‘Our scouts listened to the fireside grumblings of the enemy. Several times they spoke of a “cloud of death” that had ended the fighting in Karysk, along with most of Bali Adro’s terrible armada.’

‘This Swarm sounds almost like a peacemaker,’ said Corporal Mandric.

‘It could have that effect for a time,’ said Ramachni, ‘if all the warlords in Alifros somehow learned of their peril. But I fear we would not be safe for long. There is no way to be certain, but my guess is that the Swarm only ignores the little deaths because the larger call to it so loudly. If wars ceased, it would begin to harvest death from smaller conflicts, minor plagues. And in time darkness itself will become the killer, as crops and forest die in its shadow.’

‘Watchers above!’ said Bolutu. ‘Surely it will never grow that large!’

‘Will it not?’ Ramachni glanced about the table, his eyes settling at last on the bowls of fruit. ‘Consider those grapes, Mr Bolutu: how many would it take to cover the table?’

‘Entirely?’ said Bolutu. ‘That’s hard to guess, Ramachni. Thousands, surely.’

‘Let us say ten thousand. And let us imagine we start with one grape, and double the number each day. Think back to your early arithmetic: how long will it take?’

‘Fourteen days,’ said Neda. There were startled glances, but Neda shrugged. ‘Very simple problem. Only double and double: two, four, eight, sixteen-’

‘And so on,’ said Ramachni. ‘Fortunately even this scale is deceptive: if the table stands for Alifros, the Swarm today is still no larger than a grain of sand. And on many days it will feed on nothing, but merely fly toward the next battle or site of pestilence. We need not measure our time in days, just yet — but we dare not measure it in years. Six months from now, Arunis will have joined the Night Gods, and this world will be a black and lifeless grave.’

There were sighs and looks of horror, as though the mage had stabbed them with his words. Pazel thought of all the quite days in Ularamyth and felt a pang of guilt. He had not wanted to hasten their passing. He had not wanted to think about the Swarm.

‘At the very least, our task is clear,’ said Hercol. ‘We must make haste to Gurishal, and give the Nilstone back to death.’

‘This might be a good moment to tell us how,’ said Thasha, ‘or at least how we’re to reach the coast.’

‘Mr Pathkendle is quite correct,’ said Lord Arim, ‘and here is the best answer we have found: it is true that Macadra is watching every sensible path. But there remains one, rather less sensible, that she may have forgotten.’

He rose stiffly from his chair and pointed northwards. High on the crater’s rim, Thasha could just make out the dark triangular doorway in the mountain’s wall.

‘The Nine Peaks Road,’ said Lord Arim, ‘or as we call it, Alet Ithar, the Sky Road. It is a remote and treacherous path, though part of it follows the Royal Highway that linked the halls of the Mountain Kings. Ages have passed since those kingdoms fell. The Highway is lost in many places: bridges have fallen, forests regrown; earthquakes have changed the shape of the peaks. Today only the selk continue to speak of a road at all. Yet with skill and daring one can still pass that way — at least until the deep snows drape the mountains. And that is a third and final reason to hurry: as you can see, the snows have already begun.’

‘The path is certainly treacherous,’ said Ramachni, ‘but it is also a shortcut. By that path, and the wild lowlands beyond, we may come to the Gulf of Ilidron in a mere nine or ten days.’

Ensyl was gazing up at the distant doorway. ‘I thought we were forbidden to learn the way out of the Vale, Lord Arim,’ she said.

Arim nodded. ‘You are indeed. But that door above you does not mark the start of the Nine Peaks: it is but a final shelter and waystation for those leaving Ularamyth. You will climb to that station at midnight tonight, and I will go that far at your side.’

Ramachni looked startled. ‘That is very good of you, my lord, but need you tire yourself?’

Arim smiled. ‘There is power yet in this old selk, Arpathwin: even a spark of that fire we wielded at the Battle of Luhmor, should it come to that. Yes, I must make that climb, for not even you may pass the guardian we keep at that door, without my intercession.’

‘Our plan is not without risk,’ said Thaulinin. ‘Countless travellers have met their deaths in the Nine Peaks. It is even possible that Macadra has set watchers upon the high road after all. If so we must fight and kill them, and let none escape to sound the alarm. We will also, of course, bear the danger of the Nilstone.’

‘That danger at least we have tried to reduce,’ said Hercol. ‘Go ahead, Sunderling: tell us of your work.’

Big Skip nodded. ‘Time was, the Stone was encased in explosive glass, you know, and the glass embedded in the Red Wolf. Not very practical for travelling. Still, we don’t want any accidents — not when one little touch can kill a man. So Bolutu and I got to talking with the selk, and in the end we gave the Stone a new, thick skin of glass. Selk glass, made from sand drawn from the bottom of that dark lake of theirs. It quiets the Stone down, you might say. You can touch it, although it still burns like a potato fresh from the oven. So we’ve fashioned a box for the Nilstone as well, out of solid steel. The top half screws down and locks against the bottom — and nothing short of Rin’s own hammer and tongs will get to it-’ Skip held up a heavy key ‘-without this.’

‘Needless to say,’ added Bolutu, ‘the key and the Nilstone will be carried separately.’

‘Always,’ said Big Skip, ‘and just in case we need to take the Stone out of the box, the selk blacksmiths gave us a a pair of their own gauntlets. I lifted the Stone myself, wearing ’em. It wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t kill me either.’

‘That is fine work,’ said Hercol, ‘but let us return to the journey itself, now.’

‘I shall be your guide in the mountains,’ said Thaulinin, ‘and if the stars are willing, I will see you all the way to the Ilidron Coves. There we have a secret harbour, a place of last flight, which long ago we prepared against the day when the selk might be forced to flee like hunted game. The world has changed since we hid those vessels; there are no more selk homelands to be reached by sea. And yet one ship remains: the Promise we call her. She is too small to brave the fury of the Nelluroq, but she can bring you to a rendezvous with the Chathrand, if the latter still awaits you.’

‘And if the Empire’s warships do not sink us first,’ said Cayer Vispek.

‘Five years ago, escape from Ilidron would have been unthinkable,’ said Lord Arim, ‘but today the door stands open a crack. In the Platazcra madness, Bali Adro has slain Bali Adro, and most of her remaining ships have been sent east in the armada, to face the delusional threat from Karysk. Of course terrible forces remain, especially the Floating Fortresses along the Sandwall, but the little Promise may slip away unseen, if only you can reach her.’

‘Lord Arim, how can you give us your escape vessel?’ asked Thasha in distress. ‘Even if your homelands are gone, you might need to flee somewhere.’

Lord Arim shook his head. ‘Not over the waves — not that way, ever again. Nor can we go on risking the lives of those who guard the Promise away in the west. Bali Adro’s star grows dim, Thasha Isiq, but the assault on this peninsula has just begun. New people are coming: refugees from the war, and from the doomed cities of the Imperial heartland. Rogue armies, splinters of the great legions, warlords for whom the only rule is plunder. They will come afoot, or creeping along the shoreline in anything that floats. I cannot say if they will penetrate these inner mountains, but before the tide turns they will almost certainly devour the coast. Our harbour has waited many centuries, but it will not be a secret much longer.’

‘Yet today we still depend on secrecy — and perfect secrecy at that,’ said Ramachni. ‘Macadra cannot guard every port and cove in the Peninsula, but should she learn the path we have taken, she will throw more enemies at us than we can possibly defeat.’

‘We must be nimble and swift,’ said Thaulinin. ‘Just ten selk warriors will accompany us, and we shall all wear white, the better to hide against the snow. We also have some plans for Macadra’s forces. Even now, bands of selk are leaving Ularamyth by several roads. They will try to draw the enemy astray. Nolcindar herself left three days ago, to see what trouble she might stir along the banks of the Ansyndra. If the Ravens and their sometimes-servants the hrathmogs come to blows, so much the better.’

‘My two sons are with her,’ said Valgrif. ‘If their work goes well they may even join us on the Nine Peaks Road.’

‘Us?’ said Myett, looking startled. ‘Then you are going too, Valgrif?’

‘As far as the low country, little sister,’ he said. ‘But I must turn back when I smell salt in the air, for I was born with blood-terror of the sea.’

Then a wolf appeared at the stone gate atop the stairs, holding a leather pouch in his teeth. ‘Ah,’ said Lord Arim, ‘here is something I put aside a long time ago, for just such an expedition.’

The wolf descended, and Arim took the pouch and opened it upon the table. Pazel jumped. Within the pouch were a dozen or more scarlet beetles, dry and dead, each one the size of a mussel shell. ‘Zudikrin,’ said Arim, ‘fire beetles from the deep caves under Ularamyth. You must each carry one in your coat, and guard it well. It is a last defence against freezing.’

‘Zudikrin make dangerous gifts, Lord Arim,’ said Thaulinin.

‘So they are,’ said the elder. ‘Use them only in the face of death: if the cold is winning, and your life ebbing away. If that time should come, bite down on the insect, break the carapace — and spit the beetle out. You will be warmed, I promise you.

‘Now,’ Arim went on, ‘there is a custom we must observe. If you would honour your time here, then honour this custom too, even if you cannot see its worth. The matter is simple: for thousands of years we have tried to make a haven of this place. When any living soul comes here in friendship, we name that one a citizen. And we recognize no one’s right to force that citizen to leave, for any cause whatsoever. Therefore I must ask if any one of you feels bound in your heart to remain here and abandon the quest. Silence, silence! Remember my entreaty! And remember too that every trial and hardship you left behind in this vale may come again in the outer world. Fear no shame or censure. Only if you would stay here, for a week or a year, or to the end of your short life, bid your comrades farewell upon this terrace, in the sight of all.’

His words left a silence. Thasha glanced in wonder about the table. It was a strange custom, but a noble one perhaps. All the same it was rather unthinkable that-

‘I will stay,’ said Myett.

There were loud cries. Ensyl, grief-stricken, began to shout in the ixchel tongue the humans could not hear. Arim raised his hands high.

‘No more! The choice is hers alone, and it is for no one to gainsay.’

‘May I speak, my lord?’ asked Myett.

‘If such is your wish,’ said Arim sternly, ‘but you who listen must do so in silence: that is my command, and I will not repeat it.’

Myett looked at her companions with a kind of misery. ‘I would stay, first because I found so few ways to be of use to this expedition. I am not as strong or swift as Ensyl. I can fight, but I was never trained like her, as a battle-dancer. I have been a burden, a thing to be carried, more often than a help. And I would stay because nothing awaits me in the North but solitude. Even if we somehow found the ship, the clan will not have me back. Even if we reach Stath Balfyr, and find it still a homeland for the ixchel, Lord Talag will poison my name.’

How can you be so certain? Thasha wanted to scream.

Now Myett dropped her eyes, as though too shamed to look at them. ‘On the Chathrand I tried to take my own life,’ she said. ‘I almost succeeded. Since then I have tried to be stronger, to turn my eyes to the sun. But I was failing. I could feel the sadness closing over me again like black water. Until I came here.’

She’s not acting on impulse, Thasha realised. She’s been thinking this over a long time.

‘That is all,’ said Myett, ‘save that-’ She made a gesture of confusion. ‘Lord Taliktrum. He abandoned me without a thought, without even a spiteful goodbye. If I am to live I must forget that. Please try to forgive me, Ensyl. You will be the last of our people I shall ever see. I will live among the wolves, if they will have me. I do not think I can forget anywhere but here.’

Now Myett forced herself to look each of her comrades in the eyes. ‘You will be stronger without me,’ she said. ‘Farewell.’

‘Come, sister,’ said one of the wolves. Myett leaped to his back. In three bounds the wolf ascended the stair and vanished through the gate. Once again that morning Thasha found herself fighting tears.

‘Guard her spirit if you can, Lord Arim,’ said Ramachni. ‘Your realm’s power is very great, but I do not know if it will pierce the darkness within her.’

‘She will be cared for,’ said the selk, ‘and now we must conclude the business of this council, and you must return to Thehel Urred and rest. Would any of you speak?’

‘Yes,’ said Cayer Vispek. ‘I wish to know if Macadra herself is patrolling the seas off this peninsula.’

‘That we cannot know, without some sighting of her,’ said Thaulinin, ‘but we have told you already that with stealth we hope to reach the Sandwall unmolested. The Island Wilderness beyond is uncharted by the dlomu, but we selk still recall the way to Stath Balfyr.’

‘And that is priceless knowledge,’ said Ramachni, ‘and our best chance of catching the Chathrand before she vanishes into the Ruling Sea. For while our friends on the Great Ship blunder about in search of that island, we will be sailing straight.’

Cayer Vispek laughed darkly. ‘Through what gauntlet we know not. After what carnage in the mountains we know not.’

Thasha glanced at him surreptitiously. What’s wrong with him today? Then she saw his eyes dart in Neda’s direction — and Neda look quickly away. Vispek’s part of it. Whatever’s happened to Neda is affecting him too.

‘Lord Arim,’ said Ensyl, still drying her eyes, ‘do my people truly reign on Stath Balfyr? Do you know?’

‘It has been theirs since my father’s day,’ said Arim, ‘and that was before the first dlomic ships were built, when only selk went to sea, and the Bali Adro were a wild clan upon the Doamm Steppe. But two centuries have passed since any selk made landfall there. I cannot say who rules the island now.’

‘Let us go together and find out, Lady Ensyl.’

The voice came from the stone gate above them, and even before she placed it Thasha felt a thrill of recognition. Everyone rose; shouts of joy and wonder on their lips. Descending the staircase, escorted by four wolves and a joyous Sergeant Lunja, was a tall and beaming dlomic man.

‘Prince Olik! Prince Olik!’

Chairs were overturned in the rush to greet him. And Prince Olik Bali Adro laughed and spread his arms in delight.

‘How by all the roads of twilight did you find your way here?’

For some minutes the war-council collapsed into a joyous reunion. Olik had saved all their lives back in Masalym, and to most of the travellers he had become a cherished friend. He was leaner and harder-looking than Thasha recalled, but his eyes still held that hint of merriment she had first noticed on the deck of the Chathrand. A grey dog walked at his heels, looking as strong and weathered as the prince himself. Behind it, with somewhat less dignity, came Shilu, sniffing and prancing in delight.

‘Welcome, citizen-prince,’ said Lord Arim. ‘I have long been hoping you would return, for your last visit brought hope and song to the Vale, yet you departed in great haste. Do you remember what we were speaking of?’

‘Less well than you, alpurbehn,’ said Olik, ‘for that was twenty years ago. But I swear to you, that neither my first home nor the fairest estates of my family have I yearned for as I have this place. Alas, yearning alone cannot bring one back to Ularamyth. Perhaps nothing can save dire need.’ Then, noticing Ramachni, he said, ‘What is this, friends? You have lost a rat but gained a weasel.’

‘Mink,’ said Ramachni.

‘Mage,’ said Hercol. ‘Sire, this is our leader and our guiding star, Ramachni Fremken, whom the elders of the South call-’

‘Arpathwin?’

Thasha could scarcely believe it: Prince Olik had dropped to his knees. His voice had come out a whisper, and it was scarcely louder when he continued. ‘Arpathwin! You came to us when I was but a child. To our house, to our table, when my cousin the Emperor turned you away. But you were not a mink, in that time. You looked like a human man.’

‘That body perished,’ said Ramachni, ‘but yes, I recall. Your father was far more hospitable than the Emperor himself.’

‘And I was a brat, with no interest in the world beyond myself. But even I could sense that what you spoke of was of the gravest importance. Of course it was the rise of the Raven Society, and the danger it posed to all the South. If only we had heeded that warning!’

‘Your father understood me,’ said Ramachni, ‘but I think the shock of what I told him — the deep decay in the Bali Adro Empire, the lateness of the hour — was more than he could face. A pity: the world might indeed be a very different place today.’

‘But how did you find us, Sire?’

‘My only accomplishment has been to stay alive, and for that I am indebted to Nyrex here-’ he scratched the grey dog’s chin ‘-and to the selk who found us, lost in the forests of the lower Sarimayat.’

‘Your Highness!’ blurted Big Skip. ‘You helped us plan this expedition! How could you stay so blary quiet about wonderful Ularamyth?’

‘You great buffoon, Skip,’ said Bolutu, laughing. ‘It’s the rule of the house; you know that.’

‘Hmmph!’ said Skip. ‘Yes, I know. But one little whisper, in private like? It would have made things so much simpler.’

‘It would have made Ularamyth a wasteland, centuries ago, if that rule had been less than absolute,’ said the prince. ‘Yes, silence is the rule of the house, and the selk have many ways of enforcing it. I should like to think that honour sealed my lips, but there are other seals in place as well.’

He swept his gaze over them again. ‘So many fallen! Seven dlomic warriors, two of your Turach marines. And where is my faithful Ibjen?’

When they told him that the dlomic boy had vanished into the River of Shadows, Olik’s pain was clear to all. ‘He was a brave lad, with a clear-thinking mind; there are not many like him. In another time I would have sent him to university, or to Castle Buriav to become a Defender of the Realm. But I have broken up your meeting. Forgive this weary castaway, Lord Arim.’

‘It is for you to pardon us, for bringing you to a war-council within an hour of your arrival,’ said the old selk.

‘Even more to be regretted, Sire,’ said Hercol, ‘is that we must part with you on the morrow, for we dare not delay.’

Prince Olik sighed. ‘I do not doubt you, though it wounds my heart.’

‘We’ll be stronger just for having seen you, Prince,’ said Thasha. ‘If you can escape Macadra all alone, surely we can do it with Thaulinin’s help.’

‘You misunderstand me, lady,’ said Olik. ‘I will be going with you, and will share whatever fate is yours.’

Now there were more cries of joy and amazement. ‘Olik Ipandracon!’ said Thaulinin. ‘We could hope for no better addition to our party than yourself.’

‘But are you rested?’ asked Hercol with concern. ‘Are you ready for the trial of the mountains?’

‘I can fight, and I can march,’ said Olik, ‘but I must beg you to endure my melancholy. Twenty years have I dreamed of stepping once more within these mountain walls, and now I am fleeing them at once. Ah well! I must hope to return before another twenty passes, and I become too old and stiff to make the journey. But as for rest, that I do not want for.’

‘The selk kept His Highness in a safe house, a place like Sirafstoran Torr,’ said Lunja. ‘He was there for a week, until they found a way to come here unobserved.’

‘And then of course, I was carried,’ said the prince.

‘There are no safe houses on the Nine Peaks Road,’ said Thaulinin. ‘Rested or not, you must all — but what is this?’

He was gazing at the staircase once more. There, abashed and until this moment unnoticed, stood Myett. Ensyl ran towards her, then stopped. The two women exchanged words that Thasha could not hear; then Ensyl leaped up the stairs and embraced her kinswoman.

‘The lady has changed her mind,’ said Prince Olik. ‘Indeed the words I brought her from Lord Taliktrum would change the mind of anyone whose heart still loved.’

‘But where is Taliktrum, Sire?’ asked Thasha.

Olik inclined his head. ‘Somewhere beyond our help,’ he said. ‘We parted on the banks of the Sarimayat, not two days out of Masalym. He told me he had a plan for survival should I be forced to flee downstream, but I never learned what it was.’

With his last remark the prince cast a pensive gaze over the assembly. Thasha looked at him, imagining his calculations, his doubts. A plan of survival, she thought. We left Masalym with one of those. And no one was hunting us then.

The council adjourned, and for the first time since their arrival the entire party returned as a group to the house in Thehel Urred. Thasha realised that she had begun to love it, in the same way that she had come to love the stateroom on the Great Ship: for an exile nothing is more seductive than the idea of home. ‘All these books,’ said Pazel, gazing at the glass cases with longing, ‘I barely touched them.’

‘We barely touched Ularamyth,’ said Hercol. ‘I could read this country for a lifetime and never tire. But that is not our fate.’

Then he bent low beside Myett, and offered his hand like a platform. When she stood upon it he raised her to the level of his eyes.

‘Never hide your darkness from us, sister,’ he said. ‘We will meet it with whatever light we can. There is no shame in sadness. But also, there is no sadness that may claim us as its rightful prey. This lesson I myself struggle to remember. We dwell in pain, and journey from loss to loss, but there is also love and wonder about us, and bright sunlight on the peaks. For today I am merely glad that you choose to carry on at our side.’

Thasha saw that Neda was watching Hercol and Myett with a curious intensity. How much of what Hercol was saying could she understand?

‘My choice scares me,’ said Myett, ‘but not because of the dangers ahead. No, I fear that I shall seek what I cannot find. Or perhaps the opposite: that I shall find something I do not seek at all. But none of that matters now. It is the heart that chooses for us-’

‘And who may ask it to explain?’ said Hercol with a smile. ‘Diadrelu taught me that.’

‘In the world’s last hour, the Unseen shall demand explanations from us all,’ said Cayer Vispek sternly. Neda, as if startled from a dream, turned and rushed from the chamber.

‘Could be,’ said Mandric, ‘but meanwhile, have a look at what the selk have brought us.’

Ranged neatly along the back wall of the chamber was a large assortment of knives, bows, baldrics, leather jerkins, warm furs, gauntlets, arm-guards, throat mail of fine steel chain. There were snow-picks and grapples and other climbing implements, a tent, a light telescope — and a fine selk sword for each. Cayer Vispek lifted one of the sheer blades, twirled it, tossed it from hand to hand.

‘Exquisite,’ he said, ‘and very old, though the edge on them is new, and lethal. I wonder how long these blades have slumbered here.’

‘Find the sword that fits you,’ said Ramachni. ‘Then try on your snow garb, ready your belongings, fill your packs. We must all try to slumber a little before our midnight climb.’

The preparations took longer than Thasha had expected. When they were done at last, many of the travellers did try to sleep. Thasha tried as well, and failed: she had never been able to sleep when the sun was high. She wanted to take Pazel back to their green field one last time, but he was deeply asleep; she did not have the heart to wake him. She took a swim with Bolutu instead, and he showed her river eels that flashed golden in the sunlight, and clouds of freshwater squid no larger than coins. Across the river she saw Lunja and Neeps walking close together among the trees. They were talking quickly, gesturing, and for the first time Thasha heard the soldier laugh.

At sundown they ate a light meal and returned to their beds. This time Thasha dropped into sleep as though falling into a well. She dreamed of stone breaking, a crack that spread like ivy on a granite wall. She pressed her fingers to the crack and sensed a hand on the far side doing the same, heard a woman’s voice berating her, Let me out, selfish girl, you claim to love them, when will you prove it, who will save them if not me? and then a ghost passed through the fissure and her hand caught fire. She examined it: that blazing hand, that power. The flames were bright and sulphuric and she could not feel a thing. She was invulnerable; she had ceased to be herself.