The Rats and the Ruling sea

35

27 Norn 941

166th day from Etherhorde

Of course they could not all march into the stateroom at dawn, while the guard at the door was taking notes. By prior arrangement, Marila and Thasha went to the galley and drank tea with the groggy sailors, just off the night watch. Pazel and Neeps were to spend half an hour on the top deck, where one could linger at any hour without raising undue suspicion. They staggered up the Holy Stair, into a morning of unexpected cold. The deck was slick; a brief rain in the night had coated everything with chilly droplets, which the cold wind stripped from the rigging and flung in their faces.

The boys walked to the forecastle, where they sat down beside a sleepy Mr Fegin, who had the dawn watch. No one spoke: man and boys simply gazed at the cyclonic motions of the clouds over the Vortex, in the east; and the Red Storm, burning across the southern sky, and fading slowly with the dawn. Both the storm and the whirlpool were distinctly closer.

'Somethin' irregular goin' on,' muttered Fegin at last, in what struck Pazel as a triumph of understatement.

When the half-hour was up, the boys made their way down to their old place on the berth deck, under the copper nails. Dastu had slung their hammocks already, and Pazel fell at once into oblivion, despite the daylight and the milling hundreds of sailors and boys. He dreamed that a multitude of blacker-than-black dlomu, with shark's skin and double-lidded eyes, were surrounding his old house in Ormael, raising black spears and chanting a single word, like a war cry; but the word was Sleep!

Three hours later Mr Fiffengurt turned them out of their hammocks again, with many a groan and recrimination, for he had obtained Rose's leave for a short visit to Hercol. 'The girls are waiting outside,' he said. 'Come on, before these apes get too excited by their proximity.'

The girls were puffy-eyed and bedraggled. The five of them stumbled towards the ladderway together, barely speaking, and began the descent into the depths they had left a few hours before. At the mercy deck someone was waiting with a lamp.

'Step lively, there,' said Ignus Chadfallow.

What an unpleasant surprise, thought Pazel numbly, but he knew the doctor's presence was for the best. Chadfallow and Hercol had always been close, and there was no telling in what condition they'd find the swordsman.

His condition, of course, was that of a man with mangled fingernails. Five Turachs in helmets and mail were on hand as well, to supervise the doctor's access to his dangerous patient. Sergeant Haddismal, the new commander of the regiment, was among them. He was every bit as large as Drellarek, and had a belligerent, bug-eyed expression that Pazel found quite unsettling.

'You didn't mention the brats,' he accused Fiffengurt.

Chadfallow caught sight of Hercol's hands, and shoved past the commandos with a florid curse. 'Put your hands through the bars, Hercol, let me at those bandages. This is Ott's doing; I've seen his work before. Criminal! By the verdant Tree, one day I'll have his head!'

Captain Magritte was standing at the front of his cell. 'Doctor, you must attend me next! Give me something for delirium! I've seen the ghost of some old skipper, dressed like a pirate's woman. And fleas the size of kidney beans!'

'That last is no illusion,' said Hercol. 'The fleas are that big. And they bite like the very devil.'

Pazel thought Hercol might be close to delirium himself. Too many emotions played over his face: guilt and ecstasy, pleasure and regret. 'Hello, Thasha, boys!' he called out, beckoning with his bandages. 'Pathkendle, come here. I must tell you something.'

Pazel slipped around the watchful Turachs. 'What is it, Hercol?' he said.

The Tholjassan switched to his native tongue. 'Don't shout, lad, and don't turn your head to look when I speak. The first thing I need you to know is that I can escape at any time, and come to your aid.'

Dr Chadfallow glanced up quickly. 'Do nothing foolish, man, I pray you,' he said in the same language.

'How could you get out?' said Pazel.

'Never mind that now,' said Hercol. 'Just remember: if you're in danger, a shout down the secondary cargo hatch will bring me quickly. The other thing I must tell you is that the cell to my right is not quite empty. Our missing rat friend is crouched there at the back.'

Pazel seized the bars. 'No! Felth-'

'That's enough!' Haddismal broke in. 'Speak Arquali, if you're going to speak at all!'

Hercol continued in Tholjassan. 'He is not well at all. I'm afraid he may be rabid, or worse.'

Pazel discretely shifted his gaze. 'I see him. Aya Rin, he looks dead!'

'One more word in that tongue-' growled Haddismal.

Hercol switched back to Arquali. 'He is alive, I promise you.'

'Who's alive?' demanded the Turach.

'And he told me something worrisome. He said, "It's starting, Hercol." Those words, and no more.'

Thasha (who did not speak Tholjassan either) squeezed in on Chadfallow's right. 'What friend?' she said. 'And what is it that's starting?'

Hercol freed a hand from the doctor's ministrations, and gently touched her cheek. Pazel was astounded by the gesture, and the affection so suddenly visible on the warrior's face. Clearly Thasha was startled as well; she gazed at her old tutor as if afraid to speak.

'Something dreadful, I fear,' said Hercol. 'Ignus, stay close to them — and Pazel, you must let him help you. No matter what has passed between us before, we must stand together or die.'

'Die?' barked Haddismal, pushing Thasha aside. 'What is all this, traitor? What are you telling them?'

Hercol stood straight, looking into the Turach's bulging eyes. 'Just this,' he said quietly. 'That the ship is in danger, imminent and terrible. I do not know from what quarter it comes, but if you do not find out soon, Haddismal, I fear you will be too late.'

Bolutu was not in his cabin, nor on the topdeck, nor eating breakfast. The four youths had scattered about the ship, looking for him everywhere, but it seemed no one had lain eyes on the man since early the previous evening, well before their council meeting. They tried sickbay, the wardroom, the lounge. There was not a trace of him to be found.

But traces of Mr Fegin's 'something irregular' were plentiful. When Marila poked her head into the first-class lounge (the luxuries of which were much reduced since Simja, along with the girths of those accustomed to them), she found Thyne and Uskins squatting in the corner, nibbling stale jelly biscuits as they examined a jagged hole in a corner of the wall. In the galley, Thasha stood where the little green door with the peeling paint had been, and saw only a wall where spoons and soup ladles dangled from hooks. Outside the forecastle, Mr Fiffengurt heard the blacksmith complaining that his assistant, Big Skip, had gone missing as well.

Neeps' discovery was the ugliest. He had gone to the live-animals compartment in search of Bolutu, and stumbled upon carnage. Something had broken into the cage where Latlzo housed his prize sapphire doves; there was nothing left but blue feathers and a great deal of blood. A number of the other animals had been terrorised as well. The pair of gold foxes from Ibithraed were cowering at the back of their cage. The Red River hog was berserk, snorting and spinning in its wooden crate, which it had kicked half to pieces.

At noon Thasha and Pazel went to Chadfallow and begged him to do what he could for Felthrup. The doctor turned gravely from his desk, regarding them over his reading-glasses.

'I hold myself bound to aid a woken animal as I would a man,' he said. 'But you must never forget that a woken animal is not a man. Felthrup is a tiny creature with a volatile heart. I may only be able to end his suffering.'

'He's a tiny creature with an enormous heart,' said Pazel, 'and how can you say that, anyway, when you don't know what's wrong with him?'

'I say it because I don't know,' said Chadfallow.

The single Turach left outside the brig would not let the youths enter a second time, and only admitted Chadfallow under his supervision. Pazel and Thasha stood outside the door, listening, but all they could hear was Magritte's wails about his visions, and his fleas.

Sighing, Thasha leaned back against the wall. Only then did Pazel notice the redness of her eyes. He could not tell if it was the result of exhaustion or tears.

On an impulse, he said, 'You were brilliant at the council.'

She looked at him warily, as if he might be mocking her. 'I made a hash of it,' she said. 'I almost got us killed.'

'Not your fault.'

Thasha flushed. 'I was so certain he would come when I called him. Ramachni, I mean. But I was dead wrong.'

In the brig, the guard was bickering with Chadfallow. You want to what?

'Thasha, you and Ramachni have some sort of… bond,' said Pazel. 'And Bolutu says he's a follower of Ramachni. You sensed him instead of his master. Anybody could have made that mistake.'

Her eyes were unmoved; she didn't believe he meant it. 'You know I don't blame you,' she said.

'For what?'

'Giving me the cold shoulder. I'd do the same thing if I were you.'

'Would you?' The idea made him feel a little better.

'I drank before the wedding ceremony,' she said. 'I got myself trapped in the stateroom while you were being dragged off to Bramian. I'm afraid to read the Polylex, afraid of learning too much. And then last night, the clock… no, I don't blame you one bit.'

'What are you afraid of learning?'

'That I'm not… who I'm supposed to be. Who Ramachni was counting on me to be, from the start.' Her voice quickened nervously. 'That no matter what anyone says to make me feel better, I'm going to be the reason we fail, the reason Arunis gets the stone and learns to use it and destroys everything, and it will happen because I'm broken inside. Which is to say crazy. I'm afraid I'm going crazy.'

'Well you're not,' he said firmly. 'You're just rattled, like all of us.'

Thasha shook her head. 'You closed the clock, before it was too late. You cleaned up the mess I caused, again. Oh Pazel, the dreams, the noises. The things I keep seeing. Words painted on the anchors. Doors, where there aren't any doors. And all those ghosts — nobody sees them but Rose and me. Do you think I've caught whatever he has?'

'You're not crazy,' he said again, taking hold of her shoulders. 'You blary well ran the show down there in the liquor vault, even after things went so wrong. And Captain Magritte sees ghosts as well.'

'I see a light in your chest, Pazel.'

'What?'

Tears were welling in her eyes. She was looking at the spot below his collarbone, where Klyst's shell lay embedded beneath his skin. But it was not glowing; it had never glowed; there was nothing to see but flesh.

'I am crazy,' she said, trembling. 'I see a little shell inside you.'

'Listen,' he said, tugging down his shirt collar. 'I don't know why you can see it, but the shell is real. The murth-girl put it there.'

'Oh come on.'

'You're not crazy. You can feel it with your hand.' Pazel took a deep breath. 'Touch it. Go ahead.'

She looked at him. He nodded, and guided her hand with his own. She moved slowly, fearfully — and stopped, her fingers not an inch from his skin.

'It will hurt you,' she said, as if the knowledge had just come to her. 'Rin's teeth, Pazel, it will hurt like Pitfire. And you knew that, and you didn't mind.'

'No,' he said, breathless, 'I don't mind.'

Thasha looked at him with a warmth he knew Oggosk would never forgive. 'I mind,' she said, and dropped her hand.

They stood, holding each other's gaze for the first time in weeks. And Pazel knew it was over. The farce, the poor acting job he'd tried to make her believe in for the sake of the ixchel. He would hide what he could from Lady Oggosk, but there was no point in lying to Thasha any more. Not when she could see right through his skin.

'All right,' he whispered. 'You've got to listen to me carefully. Will you do that?'

Before Thasha could answer a noise erupted from the brig. It was an animal's screech, blood-curdling, over the shouting voices of the men. Hercol was urging someone to be careful; Magritte wanted something killed; the guard was swearing; Chadfallow was crying, 'I'll get him, stand back!'

'He's killing Felthrup!' cried Pazel. He tried the door, but the guard had locked it behind him. 'Kill it!' Magritte was shouting. 'Stick it with your spear!' Thasha tried to draw Pazel away, but he ignored her, pounding the door and shouting, 'Ignus! Stop it! Leave him alone!'

Felthrup's cries ceased as suddenly as they had begun.

The door opened at last, and there stood the outraged guard — and Chadfallow, wiping blood from his hands.

'You mucking bastard!' cried Pazel, leaping at him. This time, however, Thasha caught him tightly around the chest. Chadfallow looked at him sadly. Then Pazel saw the hypodermic needle clutched in his hand.

'Felthrup was dying of thirst,' he said, as Pazel relaxed in Thasha's arms. 'He was too far gone to absorb water by drinking alone. I injected him with saline — clean water, just slightly salty, as it is in the body.'

'He bit you,' said Thasha.

'You're all blary cracked!' said the guard. 'And this doctor's a liar! He didn't want to give the Tholjassan no pills! And the Tholjassan himself's the maddest of the lot. Says that drooling rat in there's his pet — his pet! Out of here, all of you! The captain's goin' to hear about this!'

'Where's Felthrup?' asked Thasha.

Chadfallow examined his bites. 'I could not… persuade him to leave,' he said.

'You'll be comin' down with whatever that rat has, now,' groaned the Turach.

'Very possibly,' said Chadfallow.

'Ignus,' said Pazel. 'I'm sorry.'

Chadfallow smiled dryly. 'Long time since anyone called me a bastard.'

'Yer a bastard,' said the Turach. 'Now get away from my post.'

Through all this the Chathrand was making fair speed to the south. The morning clouds had vanished, so there were no telltale disturbances to help them locate the Vortex. But there were other signs. The waves, uniform these many days, had lost their shapeliness, and were a bit collapsed on their eastern side. And the east wind, when it came, was strikingly cold, as if it had blown over some expanse of frigid water, churned up from the depths.

In mid-afternoon, one such cold gust reached in through the porthole of the chart room. Elkstem felt it, snapped his drafting pencil in two, and stormed out to the quarterdeck. 'Let go the wheel!' he said. 'Just let it go, boys, that's right.'

The baffled sailors looked at one another and obeyed. The wheel spun like a giant fishing reel, the bow of the Chathrand swung quickly to windward, and Elkstem shook his head in dismay. 'Catch her, catch her, gents!' he cried, then snapped his fingers for a midshipman. To the thin-lipped Sorrophrani who answered the summons, he dictated: 'A memo to the captain: my compliments, and be aware that the bow's leeward drift is approximately ten degrees. I can comfortably assume therefore that we are in the outer spiral of the Vortex, and that without intervention, our course will decay. Your servant, etc. Put the message in Rose's hand, lad, wherever he may be.'

About this time, Pazel, Thasha, Neeps and Marila found themselves together in the stateroom for the first time in days. Syrarys' dressing-table had been screwed down in place of the one destroyed. It was small, but then so were their meals, lately. Thasha had opened one of their few remaining delicacies: a jar of tiny octopuses, pickled in brine. Her father had always kept several jars of the rubbery pink creatures in the pantry at home, and Nama had seen that a dozen were laid away before they sailed from Etherhorde. Thasha had grown up hating them. But after months of galley food she ate octopuses with a will, as did the other three: spearing them with their knives, slicing off the beaks, chewing them whole. They tasted of home, and were gone in five minutes flat.

The four friends sat gazing at the empty jar. They had changed roles since yesterday, Pazel thought. He had his bare foot atop Thasha's own, enjoying the dusty warmth of it, the trust. Somewhere deep inside him a voice still protested: take it away, take it away. Was it fear of what Oggosk would do to the ixchel, or Klyst's jealousy? Whatever it was, he felt powerless to obey. He simply could not be cruel to Thasha any longer. And then, he thought, as her dry, calloused toes slid restlessly against his own, there's this.

Neeps and Marila, on the other hand, were barely speaking. Marila had not forgiven Neeps for pushing her to bring 'that loudmouthed, slave-trading drunk' to the council. Neeps had objected that Druffle wasn't really a slave trader, that he had only dealt in bonded servants, but his hair-splitting just made her angrier.

'Tell me what the difference is, when you get deeper in debt each time your master gives you a rag to wear, or some little piece of garbage to eat.'

Marila's anger was something to behold: icy, soft-spoken, hard as nails. She had talked Neeps into corners three times in the last two hours. They were perfect together, Pazel thought.

'Anyway,' Neeps was saying, 'I don't think Druffle specialised in buying and selling human beings. Arunis sent him to the Flikkermen, under his spell.'

'Which is another reason to stay away from him,' said Marila. 'For all we know he's still in Arunis' power.'

Pazel shook his head. 'Ramachni set him free. We know that.'

'But what if there's some part of him that's been weakened?' said Marila. 'What did Jervik tell you? "He pick-pick-picks at me." What if Arunis picked a hole in Druffle's mind, and can read it now?'

'She's right, Pazel,' said Thasha quietly. 'Arunis managed to read your mind, and control you. Or at least put ideas in your head, and make you freeze.'

'But it cost him,' said Neeps. 'I'll bet he put a lot of eggs in that basket, trying to get rid of Pazel and his two Master-Words. And he couldn't read Pazel's mind, actually — not until Pazel touched him. Druffle won't make that mistake.'

'Druffle would make any mistake,' said Marila. 'He's an idiot. Toads and ice.'

'Stop!' Pazel pleaded, raising his hands. 'It's done, and we can't undo it, and we can't waste any more time wishing we could. Think about what Hercol said, for Rin's sake. We stand together or we die.'

Neeps and Marila glared at one another across the table. Thasha gave Pazel a private smile.

'I still want to know something,' said Marila abruptly. 'Why isn't Arunis dead? Chadfallow says he was hanged for nine days on Licherog, chopped up and tossed into the sea. That sounds blary dead. So what happened? What's he doing here at all?'

Even Pazel found himself glancing in Thasha's direction. 'I know what you want,' she said at once. 'But I told you, I can't touch the Polylex. I'm sorry. Felthrup was helping me for a while; he'd turn the pages, and read aloud. That made it bearable — just. Since then I've been trying to read it on my own, but it's too awful that way. I go too fast, I learn… too many things.'

'Like what?' said Neeps. 'Can you tell us something, just so we understand?'

Thasha put her elbows on the table, looking down at her plate of snipped-off octopus beaks. She sighed.

'There was a barge anchored on the Ool, in Etherhorde. The spy who ran the Secret Fist before Sandor Ott had it put there to terrify the Nunekkam. It had an eight-foot wooden wall instead of a rail, and shackles all over the deck. If they didn't cooperate with his spies — tell them all about their clients, hand over their business records — he'd take their families and roll them in salt and chain them there, for days. They have soft skin, the Nunekkam, they blister in the sun, birds would come and-'

'All right!' said Neeps hastily. 'Sorry I asked.'

Thasha shuddered. 'It isn't even those stories, exactly. It's that I feel like I'm remembering them. As if I used to know these things, and a few lines bring it all back. It's like going into your house after it's been sealed up for years, and tugging off the dustcloths, and finding the furniture all covered in blood.'

'Just stay away from the Polylex, then,' said Pazel. 'Felthrup thought you should, too.'

'Ramachni said she had to read it,' said Marila.

'Maybe Ramachni was wrong.'

Marila gave Pazel a sceptical glance, as if she knew very well what was behind his argument. Neeps drew patterns in the brine on his plate.

Suddenly Thasha rose to her feet. Without a word she seized Pazel's hand, making him rise too, and led him into her cabin. She marched around the bed, wrenched savagely at the latch on the porthole and flung open the glass.

The sudden wind slammed shut her cabin door. Pazel rounded the bed, studying her, more worried than he liked to admit. Thasha bent to the porthole, gulping the cold breeze, and the evening sun lit her face. There were dark rings under her eyes, and the golden flag of her hair had lost much of its shine. The blane, he thought: wasn't that where it started? Had she ever fully recovered from that taste of death?

He put his hands on her shoulders, and they lifted eagerly against his palms. Thasha sighed and let her head fall forwards. Pazel squeezed, then gave a nervous laugh. 'You're so blary strong,' he said.

'Syrarys used to beg me to be lazy,' murmured Thasha. 'She said with my shoulders no man would-Ouch! No, don't stop, that was a good ouch. Don't stop ever.'

He did not stop, but to his great vexation he could think of nothing to say. Thasha swayed under his hands. In the stateroom Marila and Neeps resumed their argument.

Talk to her. Tell her something clever and calm. Or just kiss her. Do something, fool, before you lose the chance!

He raised a hand to her cheek. At once the spark of pain flared up in his chest, but he didn't care. He leaned nearer, until he could see that her eyes were closed. Her breath came in little puffs against his fingertips.

'What are you thinking about?' he said.

'Greysan.'

He could not have pulled away faster if she had tried to give him a rattlesnake. What was he doing here? What kind of mucking game was this for her? But as he turned to go Thasha caught his arm.

'You don't understand,' she said.

'I don't think I want to.'

He tugged his arm free and lurched for the door. To his back, Thasha said, 'I was thinking that if you and Neeps really don't trust him, then I can't either. And I won't.'

Pazel glanced back over his shoulder. 'It didn't stop you before,' he said.

'Stop me?' said Thasha, reddening.

He shrugged. 'From, well-'

'You're a prize pig, you know that?' said Thasha. 'Tell me this: why haven't you cut that shell out of your chest?'

Pazel said nothing. He had been dreading the question for months.

'Well?' she demanded. 'Isn't that how you're supposed to tell Klyst she's wasting her time?'

Still Pazel was silent. 'I just can't,' he said at last. 'I don't know why. It isn't that I mind the blood, you know.'

In the stateroom perfect silence had resumed. Thasha gazed at him like one contemplating murder. All at once she appeared to reach a decision. She pointed imperiously at the chair at her desk. 'Sit down,' she said.

Pazel obeyed, and Thasha went to the secret wall cabinet and took out the Polylex. She set it down quickly before him, as though even that brief touch was something she'd rather avoid.

'We're going to find an answer to Marila's question,' she said. 'Or rather you are. One hint, though: don't look up an obvious word like "Arunis" or "Nilstone." Remember that the authors were trying to sneak in information, so that the Emperor would let it be published. You have to use your intuition if you want to find anything.'

Pazel took a deep breath. 'I'll try Licherog.'

Thasha dropped back on her bed. 'That'll do. It's probably too easy, but maybe it will lead us somewhere.'

Pazel opened the book, astonished by the thinness of the dragonfly-wing paper. The print was small and ornate, the entries infinite and strange. Lamb's blood. Lycanthropy. Lorg Academy (Origins). Lead Tomb. Lich of Greymorrow.

And finally, Licherog, Prison Isle of.

The entry ran to nine pages, and was full of horrifying detail, such as the recurrent problem of cannibalism when food shipments were delayed, and the prison guards who were held hostage for sixteen years when a rebellion broke out on an underground floor. There was quite a lot about the Shaggat Ness, his sons, and the palace vacated for him by the Warden of Licherog. Of Arunis, however, there was only a brief mention: how he was held for twenty years with his master, tried to escape, was wounded by a guard's arrow, recaptured, and hanged.

'It says he cursed the guard before he died, and the poor man had a breakdown, quit the army, moved back in with his mother on Opalt, and slowly went mad.' Pazel shook his head. 'There isn't much more. Arunis the sorcerer died upon the gibbet, and dangled there nine days. The birds who pecked his flesh fell stone dead, as from poison; and the sharks, when he was chopped and given over to them, were found later belly-up upon the sea. That's all. Weird, but not much help.'

'Try "Death" then,' said Thasha quietly.

Pazel turned more pages. Death included some macabre speculations about the least and most painful ways of inflicting it, and the posthumous torments of the sinful, and Agaroth, death's shadowy Border-Kingdom in the underworld. But Pazel saw nothing about ways to cheat death, or return from it to this life.

'That's odd,' he said suddenly. 'The entry breaks off in mid-sentence. There's room for more words, but it's unfinished, listen to this-'

'Don't!' said Thasha sharply. 'I don't want to hear it!' Her voice was tight with pain, as though she were walking barefoot on glass. 'Remember what I told you the night before the wedding, about how the book adds entries on its own? That's how it happens: first a blank space, then words that grow like a vine to fill the space. But when I read those new parts I feel horrible. Look up something else. "Sorcery," maybe.'

Pazel tried to move faster. But Sorcery was no help, and neither was Necromancy or Resurrection. By the time he'd moved on to Mage Thasha had backed to the far side of the bed, hugging herself into a ball.

Pazel took in her vacant, frightened eyes, and slammed the book shut. 'Right, I'm putting this thing away. Matter of fact, let's put it further away from you. We can hide it in your father's cabin; that's still inside the magic wall.'

'No!' said Thasha. 'I have to keep it near me. I'm… responsible for it.'

Pazel was about to argue, but at that moment the door creaked, and Neeps looked into the cabin.

'I could hear all that,' he said.

'Sorry to bother you,' said Pazel sarcastically.

'Don't be an oaf, I thought of something. You read about the guard who shot Arunis with the arrow — the one he cursed. Remember where it says he went?'

'Back to Opalt, with his mum,' said Pazel.

'And who else came from Opalt?'

Thasha raised her head slowly. 'Ket,' she said. 'The soap merchant. Arunis' false identity, when he first came aboard. Neeps, you could be onto something.'

She hopped from the bed, as Pazel opened the book and began leafing through it again.

'What do you know, he's in here,' he said after a moment. 'But there's hardly anything, just two lines. Ket, a merchant family of Opalt, specializing in salves and soaps. The m-'

Pazel stopped in amazement, all but choking on the words. ' The most successful member of the family to date, Liripus Ket, joined the family trade after a complete recovery from madness, which befell him during military service in his youth.'

Pazel looked up from the book, first at Thasha, then at Neeps. A chill seemed to have descended on the room.

'Ket was the guard on Licherog,' he said. 'Arunis didn't just curse him — he became him. That's how he escaped the island nobody ever escapes. He can do more than just get inside someone's head. He can take over. He can blary move in.'

At that moment Marila's voice called from the outer stateroom. 'Thasha! Come out here, hurry up.'

Thasha sprang from the cabin, with the boys right behind her. Marila was at the stateroom door, which was open a crack. 'It's Dastu,' she said. 'He's just outside the magic wall, with the guard. He wants to come inside.'

'Oh, I have to blary invite him, don't I?' said Thasha. She opened the door wide and beckoned, and Dastu stepped through the magic wall and hurried towards them. He looked as though he were barely able to keep from breaking into a run. Slipping into the room, he eyed the four of them with a mixture of relief and anxiety.

'You're all here,' he said, shutting the door behind him. 'That's good. Listen to me close, now. I found Bolutu.'

'You found him!' they cried.

Dastu nodded. 'He's down in the liquor vault, and he's in a bad way. That change he was expecting? Well I think it's started, mates. And he says he's got to tell you something before it's done, Pazel. Somethin' about Rose — about "how to get the better of Rose." He won't say more than that to me.'

'Why didn't you bring him here?' said Neeps, looking at Dastu nervously.

'Bring him?' Lord Rin, mate, you'll see! Pazel, you've got to come down there! It's safe, for the time being. There's nobody in the Abandoned House. And I think we can manage without a lamp.'

'We'll all go,' said Neeps.

'Come on, Undrabust!' said Dastu, more high-strung than Pazel had ever seen him. 'This ain't the dead of night. What'll our story be if we're caught? What if that guard decides to tell somebody that we all charged out of here together?'

'I am going,' said Thasha. 'If Bolutu's really got something to do with Ramachni, I have to be there.'

Dastu squirmed with impatience. 'Whoever's going has to come with me now. You don't know what's going on in there!'

Pazel turned to Neeps and Marila. 'It'll be four bells in, what, twenty minutes? Come after us then, if we're not back. Just take the long way around, and for Rin's sake, don't let anyone see you on the scuttle! All right, Dastu, let's go.'

Before Neeps could think of another objection, Pazel, Thasha and Dastu stepped out of the room. Neeps watched them until they passed the guard, then shut the door and whirled around.

'Twenty minutes!' he said to Marila. 'I'll go plum mad, worrying about them! Damn and blast, I still don't trust that Bolutu, even if he does have the scar. And you were a big help! Couldn't you have said something?'

Marila walked up to him with a scowl, as though prepared to resume their fight. But instead she placed her pale cheek against his darker one, and stood there, blinking, until he put his arms around her shoulders. 'When are you going to tell me why you really stowed away?' he said.

'Soon,' said Marila.

Five or six minutes passed. One of their stomachs growled. Jorl and Suzyt padded in circles, whining for Thasha.

Suddenly Marila tensed, and raised her head.

'How could Bolutu get inside the vault?' she said. 'Pazel locked it after the council meeting, with the master key. He said so.'

Neeps stared at her. A terrible notion seemed to be blossoming within him, broader and fouler by the second. He let go of Marila. Then he charged for the door and threw it open and ran, not caring who saw him or where they thought he was going.

'I've got matches,' whispered Dastu, 'but let's go as far as we can without 'em. The light could give us away.'

'I don't need any light,' said Thasha. 'I could find that room in my sleep.'

They were at the bottom of the Silver Stair. Voices reached them from the mercy deck, but they were far forwards, barely to be heard. They passed the spot where Jervik had accosted Pazel, then the smoke cellar, the paint room, the stacks of anonymous freight. Dastu was right: the path to the scuttle was perfectly clear.

'I wasn't expecting anything like this,' Pazel murmured. 'Bolutu didn't sound worried about changing back into himself. In fact I thought he was looking forward to it.'

'He shouldn't have been,' said Dastu grimly. 'Quiet now, we're almost there.'

Silent as thieves, they crept down the scuttle and into the Abandoned House. The smells, the slop of bilge, the maze of narrow passages were unchanged from the night before — and after the first turn, so was the blackness. The three youths linked hands, and groped slowly forwards. At last they reached the door of the liquor vault.

Pazel heard a creak. 'It's open,' whispered Dastu. But not the least glimmer of light came from the vault. Dastu whispered urgently: 'Say there, Bolutu! I've brought them. Pathkendle, and Thasha both. Where are you?'

No reply but the splash of the bilge. 'He had a lamp,' whispered Dastu, moving forwards. Then he stopped abruptly, as if he had stubbed a toe. 'Oh Pitfire,' he said. 'Come in, quick. Tell me when the blary door's shut.'

Still holding the elder tarboy's hand, Pazel stopped, making Thasha pause as well. Something was different about the room now. Was it the smell, the temperature? He couldn't be sure. But he knew he did not want to go into the room. He started to let go of Dastu — but the older boy's hand tightened sharply.

'Didn't you hear?' he said, voice sharp with anger. 'I said tell me when the door is shut!'

Dastu gave a savage tug. As Pazel crashed forwards, a knee struck him so hard in the stomach that he could not even cry out. Another blow landed on the back of his head, and he fell. When he regained his senses a moment later someone was lighting a lamp, and a heavy boot was on his chest. He began to rise, but the boot stomped with terrible violence, and at the same time a cold blade touched his throat. It was a broadsword, old, weather-stained, sharp as a razor. At the other end of it was Captain Rose.

'The door is shut,' said a second voice.

Pazel moaned with rage and frustration. The voice was Sandor Ott's. He turned his head and saw the spymaster holding Thasha from behind, one hand pulling her hair, making her arch her back and thrust her chin at the ceiling; the other holding his long white knife against her side.