The Queen's assassin

Chapter Twenty-Five

“How did you know the wind would drive us south?” Sardec asked as they approached the wall.

“Nine times out of ten it blows off the sea at this time of year,” Asea said.

“So you could still have been wrong about it?”

“Yes. I expected to make my departure at the time of my choosing, but the odds were still with us. And if they had not been, I have a contingency plan.”

Before Sardec could ask what it was they passed over the walls. Sardec flinched but nothing happened.

“We’re through the wards,” he said, not quite believing it.

“Of course, they are designed to keep things out, not in,” Asea shouted. “Even if the elementals had been dismissed, we are perfectly safe.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The gasbags are already filled with hot air. It would take some time for it to cool, and for us to sink gently earthward. Before that happened I would release more salamanders and we could continue our journey. It would not do to land in the swamp by night.”

“No, it would not.” Sardec smiled in relief. It seemed they might live through this after all.

Dawn saw them leave the swamp behind them. Rik was glad. The smell of rot and marsh gas and other things rising from the land below them had brought back memories, not all of them his own. He had spent all night in fitful dreams, waking in the cold that the heat of the salamanders only partially protected them from, with the recollections of dead men, and other things bubbling to the surface of his mind.

There had been times in the coldest, darkest hours of the night when he had almost wished the Quan had killed him. At least then he would not have had to undergo this torture. It might have gone worse, he tried to tell himself. Part of him might still be alive, drowning in the memories of the Sea Devil forever, part of his soul preserved in it, as its soul was now preserved in him.

He felt horrible, worse than he had ever done when he was sick or hung-over and he knew the feeling could not be cured by healing spells because it was something that was directly within his brain. Whatever happened, he decided, he would not rest until he had paid Malkior back for putting him through this.

Yes, yes, vengeance, said the voices at the back of his mind.

He looked down on the snow-covered land below them. Occasionally, when they drifted over a fortified manor, or a farmhouse, tiny people looked up at them as if they were some passing god or demon.

“You are awake,” said Asea. “Good — you are just in time to witness the second part of this experiment.”

“And what would that be?”

“Watch and learn,” she said. She had a second flask in her hand now, and muttering a spell, she opened it. The air grew colder as a small translucent humanoid figure emerged, it swirled around them as much cloud as person, ghost-like. As Asea spoke it swirled off into the mid-distance. The wind picked up driving them on southward, faster than they had gone previously. She repeated the process again and again, and with each of the creatures released their speed increased. At this height with no reference points nearby to judge against, Rik could not say exactly how fast. He guessed that their speed was at least as great as a galloping horse. And even if they were followed by a troop of hussars, they would still have to follow the roads and the curve of the hills; they could not fly directly over things as the balloons could.

“I would rather we were not overtaken by pursuit from Harven,” she said.

“I can understand why. How long can you keep this up?”

She looked a bit stunned already. Gazing closely at her, he could see her pupils were dilated, and suspected that she had once again resorted to her potions for energy and wakefulness.

“As long as I need to,” she replied.

“I pray that it is the case.”

For days they passed over a landscape that seemed a dead white desert. Sometimes they saw foraging troops. Mostly they saw the smoke and lights of small towns. It was cold, and they had nothing to eat, and it was quite a strain to relieve yourself over the edge of a basket with nothing but thousands of feet of air below you.

There were times, particularly when they passed through clouds, when Sardec could almost believe that they had died and were floating through some nether realm of damned souls. It seemed that he was not the only one who felt that way. Amid the clouds, the men shouted and sang, making noise just to reassure themselves that there were other people out there, that they were not lost in some heavenly limbo, that there was a chance that they might someday return to the surface of the world.

Sardec prayed that was the case. He worried about many things, about the structural integrity of the baskets and the strength of the ropes. It would only take one slight mishap and a basketful of them could be sent tumbling to the earth far below.

He found himself thinking about many things. He contemplated the military use of the balloons. Perhaps they could be used for spotting but they would be vulnerable to dragons in summer and elementals in winter unless provided with their own protection. He reckoned they must have been fortunate indeed that the Council in Harven had been so taken by surprise that they had not summoned any elementals themselves. When he pointed this out to Asea she said; “There was only a little good luck involved. It takes time to unleash elementals, and even more time to bind them unless you have some prepared. Without any warning of what was happening, it was a fair bet that we could get away unchallenged. And there are no dragons in Harven. The Quan do not like them and they do not like the Quan.”

Her words were slurred and her manner troubled Sardec. Her eyes looked huge and she seemed even more pale and gaunt than the Lady of the Ghouls he had encountered back in Halim. It was obvious that she was burning through a great deal of her personal power, and she was going to have to pay a dreadful price for that some time soon. He looked at the half-breed who just shrugged as if to say there was nothing he could do, which was most likely the truth.

Sardec hated this. He hated the feeling that there was nothing he could do, that he had no control over his own destiny. Matters were out of his hands, and would be until they returned to earth. He thought about Rena a lot, praying that he would get a chance to see her again, thinking long and hard about what he had seen in the great sea port of the way that Terrarch and human lived together there, wondering if such might not be the case everywhere some day.

There had been a time not so long ago when that would have seemed anathema to him. It would still seem so to many of his comrades, but he was starting to think that matters might not be so bad. He had once argued the exact opposite with Asea, and thoughts of that argument returned to him now. He wanted to say that he found himself far more in sympathy with her Scarlet ideas now than he once had been, but he did not want to disturb her concentration. Instead, seeking companionship and some conversation, he turned to Rik who huddled miserable and sick-looking in the corner of the basket, glaring at everyone with insane hatred in his eyes. Like all of them he was unshaven, and the stubble on his jaw gave him a wild feral look.

Sardec tried to tell himself that it was the long flight that was bringing out this side of the half-breed’s personality but the truth was that he had looked this way ever since he had returned to the embassy. Some of the things he mumbled to himself in his dreams were chilling.

Sardec squatted down beside him, grabbing the edge of the basket with his hook. “What happened back there?” he asked eventually then he smiled. “I seem to be making a habit of asking you that question. First the Serpent Tower, now this.”

Rik’s smile was cold and there was no hint of sanity in it. Sardec felt his flesh crawl but he continued to speak. “What trouble did you get yourself into?”

“It was Malkior. He set the Quan on me.”

“You talked with a Quan?”

“They don’t talk. They eat your mind, and while they eat your mind they digest your thoughts.” He laughed in a hideous manner. “Only I ate it. I ate it.”

Perhaps he was not laughing, perhaps he was trying not to weep. Sardec had once, to his shame, ordered Rik whipped. He had taken that whipping with as much insouciance as Sardec had ever seen. He had come out of the shadowy hell beneath Achenar with his sanity intact, and survived the destruction of the Serpent Tower seemingly unmarked. What had happened back there to do this to him? What horror had he encountered to surpass all those others?

Then he realised it was something else. Asea’s eyes were closing. The wind was starting to howl around them. It was getting colder. The sylphs were running out of control.

Sardec rose and grasped Asea by the shoulders. He shook her gently. “Wake up. Wake up!” he said urgently. Her eyes snapped open. She shook her head and seemed to realise what was happening. She muttered binding spells and the winds died down. The salamanders returned to an even glow.

“You can’t go on like this,” he said. “We need to get down from here.”

“Just a few more hours,” she said.

“You don’t have a few more hours in you. We need to get down to land. By now we must surely have outdistanced all pursuit.”

Much to his surprise she did not argue. “Very well,” she said. “When I see a suitable site I will try and put us down.”

Sardec watched the balloons burn. The landing had been rough but they had made it with only a few scrapes and bruises. The elementals had run out of control at the last, burning the baskets and silk, but not till after they had all got clear. Asea lay in the snow, surrounded by the men, covered in blankets. She seemed weary unto death. It was all right, Sardec told himself. It was her time to rest. Now it was time for him to do his job.

Looking around he could see that Weasel and the Barbarian had returned from the nearby town. “It’s Khalastrea, sir,” said Weasel. “We’re not more than twenty leagues north of Halim. There’s a small garrison here, our troops.”

Sardec remembered the town from his maps and did some swift calculations. He could commandeer some sledges and horses here if he had to. Using them and the post inns he could have them back in Halim in three days at most. They had come a long, long way in a very short time on those strange aircraft.

Sardec let out a long frosty breath of relief. They were almost back to the army. They had escaped from the impregnable city of Harven. “Shape up, lads,” he told the soldiers. “Another couple of days and we’ll be back with the regiment.”

When they gave three ragged cheers for him and Lady Asea he had to turn his head. He did not want them to suspect he was crying.