"I'm starting to worry about you, Baccharus," Church snapped. "Do you spend all your time hanging around down here? You know, is it the Tuatha De Danann equivalent of the street corner where the furtively smoking teenagers hang out? Or do you just wait in the shadows until Ruth or I come along?"
Baccharus gave several long, slow blinks while staring into Church's eyes. Eventually he said, "You must-"
"Yes, yes, I know. Turn back. I know it's not a saunter through Covent Garden-"
"You do not realise the extent of the danger."
Church sighed, running his fingers through his long hair. "Baccharus, I really do appreciate you looking out for me. It's such a rare trait in your kind I'd be a fool not to recognise it. But this is something I have to do. There's so much at stake here for all… all the Fragile Creatures. And at the moment only Ruth and I can do something about it. I wish someone else was having to do the business, but that's not the way it is."
Baccharus's stare was still intense. "How does your journey here, in the depths, bear upon your mission?"
The question was curious, the fact that Baccharus was asking it more so. "How did you know I'd be here anyway? Have you been spying on me?"
Baccharus appeared a little taken aback by the question, but not hurt or irri- rated; the emotions of the Tuatha De Danann were so difficult to read he might simply have had no idea what Church was talking about.
Church thought a moment. "The Portunes. Running through the walls. That one was with you when you saved Ruth. So why are you particularly interested in us?"
Baccharus, in his usual honest manner, did not attempt to bat it away. "A long story."
"And when we get back topside you're going to tell me. But right now-"
"You must not continue. The danger is out of control. The Malignos are preparing for something unpleasant. Your fellow Fragile Creature, the one tainted by the Night Walkers-"
"Callow."
"— he has whispered secrets to them, given them guidance. My associates are searching for them now, but they can wrap the night around them."
Something was jangling deep in Church's head. "Your associates? Why isn't Manannan doing something about this if it's such a threat?"
Baccharus didn't answer.
"What's going on here, Baccharus? The five of us, the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, we've been run like rats and had our lives ruined by your people. I'm not having any more of it. I feel like some massive thing has been going on all the time we've been on this ship, but Ruth and I have seen only a tiny part of it. Used when your people feel it suits their needs. Ignored or barely tolerated the rest of the time."
"No." Baccharus's voice was firm. "If you knew the truth, you would not say that."
Church searched his face; something sharply human hung there, something few of the other Golden Ones carried. A faint sound echoed nearby. Church glanced over his shoulder. "This isn't the time. I have to find the Walpurgis."
"I will take you to him."
Church's attention snapped back. "You know where he is?"
"If it will prevent you blundering into the areas of greatest peril, I will accede to your request." He strode out along the branching corridor, then turned right down another branch that Church hadn't noticed. Church was rooted for a second, but then he skipped into step behind the hurrying god.
Church lost track of how many junctions they came up on, and the constant branching made his head spin. When he had set off below deck, the corridor had stretched on and on with no other side route, but Baccharus found a myriad, lurking in shadows, or disguised as hanging drapes. At first Church fired numer ous questions, but when the god refused to answer any of them, Church fell into a steady silence, trying to make some sense of his topsy-turvy thoughts.
Eventually Baccharus came to a halt before a stretch of corridor that was lit more brightly than most of the others. The wall in this area was of wooden timbers, uneven and nondescript. He rested one hand on it, fingers splayed, bowed his head and muttered something under his breath. The wall became like the running water of a waterfall. Baccharus strode through it. Church jumped behind him, expecting to get soaked, but it felt like the overhead hot air heaters some shops treat their customers to on a wet winter's day.
On the other side was a large chamber, comfortably fitted out with thick rugs, heavy tapestries on the polished wood walls, chairs and tables bearing a few half-filled goblets and trays of dried fruit and nuts. Several figures were scattered around. They broke off from what appeared to be intense conversation to stare at him. There were a few members of the Tuatha De Danann Church recognised by sight, but whose names he didn't know, a smattering of Portunes scurrying around like mice, and one or two of the odd figures he had glimpsed at the banquet. At his gaze, these moved back into the shadows where the torches did not reach.
"What's going on here?" he asked suspiciously. His hand moved towards his sword as the half thought entered his head that Baccharus might have led him into a trap.
"We are all friends here." Marik Bocat squatted on the back of a chair, shouting, although his voice sounded barely more than a whisper.
"Then why are you hiding away?"
"The situation is complex," Baccharus said. "Perhaps it is time to unveil it to you." He turned to the others. "This is Jack, Brother of Dragons." All those who had not been introduced to Church before bowed their heads.
"Maybe later." Church walked to the centre of the room and looked around. "First, I want to talk to the Walpurgis."
A fluttering bundle of rags emerged from the gloom at the back of the chamber. Beneath the broad-brimmed hat, the hot coal eyes glowed as intensely as Church recalled. "I am here." His voice was a chill wind over a graveyard.
Church put the confusing scenario to the back of his mind. There were more important subjects. But first he had to know if he was right. "Did you kill Cormorel?"
"He did not," Baccharus interjected.
"I want to hear it from him."
"I do not kill."
Church nodded thoughtfully. "You said you were a Messenger. With a mes sage for me. A message that was very clear." The Walpurgis stared, said nothing. "What is the message?"
"Do you not want your dream examined?"
The Walpurgis was talking about the hidden memory of who had really killed Marianne; the identity of the traitor amongst them. "Yes. More than anything. But first, this."
The Walpurgis came forward, pushing cold air before him that raised the goosebumps on Church's arms. When he was only a few feet away, the tattered creature intoned gravely, "You will find no peace in this world. For some, that is the way it must be."
Church's heart fell. The Walpurgis's words were like a death knell, tolling out his deepest fears.
"But you must not lose hope." The Walpurgis reached out a papery hand. "You must never lose hope. You are part of something much larger than what lies around you. Many will benefit from your sacrifice."
"Do you think that's enough?" The bitterness in Church's voice shocked even himself. He looked around the gathered faces and was unnerved by how they were hanging on his every word. "All the pain I've already had. My girlfriend… my love… the love of my life… murdered. All the grief that followed, beating myself up because I thought she'd committed suicide, that I was responsible. Laura… the young Marianne… all the other ones I've seen die." Ruth's face flashed into his mind, followed by a sharp pang of regret that was almost painful. "And now I can see a way out, some kind of good life ahead for a change, and you're telling me it's not going to happen? No fucking way."
The Walpurgis took another pace with his outstretched hand, oddly comforting now, but Church waved it away.
"I don't want to hear it."