Mara frowned, troubled by what seemed a prophecy, and she crouched before it. ‘What do you-’
The heavy mottled blade of Skinner’s sword thrust past her, impaling the creature. Mara flinched aside. ‘Damn the Dark Deceiver, Skinner! There was something there …’
‘Well,’ the giant observed as he shook the dark blood from his blade, ‘there’s nothing there now.’ He turned away. ‘Bring the body. The damned Thaumaturg might yet demand proof.’
At the cave entrance Skinner paused, raising a gauntleted hand to sign a halt. He regarded the wide cave floor, now as still as any placid pool. He then went to the body, which Shijel and Black had dragged all the way. Grunting with the effort, he gathered up the muscular corpse and heaved the carcass overhead and out on to the floor. As it flew Mara flinched to hear it give vent to one sudden despairing shriek, cut off as it disappeared beneath the surface. The pool of vermin foamed to life in a great boiling froth of maggots, beetles, writhing larvae and ghost-white centipedes.
Mara turned away, nauseated. Skinner watched for a time, motionless, then headed for the surface. Passing Mara, he observed, ‘You were right — stripped in an instant.’
* * *
Saeng woke up feeling worse than she had in a very long time. She was shivering cold and her clothes hung sodden and chilled. Her hair was a clinging damp mess, her nose was running and her back hurt. Early morning light shone down through the thick canopy in isolated shafts of gold. She stretched, grimacing, and felt at her back; she’d slept curled up on a nest of leaves and humus piled in a nook between the immense roots of a tualang tree. Her umbrella stood open over her, its handle jammed into a gap between the vines that choked the trunk. Hanu stood to one side, his back to her.
Standing, Saeng adjusted her shirt and skirts and brushed ineffectually at her matted hair. She pulled the umbrella free and closed it. Hanu turned to her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, indicating the umbrella. He nodded within his helm, which glittered with its inlaid jade and lapis lazuli mosaic. A suspicion struck her. ‘You stood there all through the night?’ Again he nodded. That struck her as inhuman, which made her rub her arms and look away, an ache clenching her chest. ‘Don’t you need to sleep … any more?’
‘Little,’ he signed.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t.’
Deciding not to pursue that any further, she scanned the jungle. ‘Hear anything in the night?’
‘Many things come.’
‘What’s that? Many things? What?’
‘Night animals. Wild pigs. Monkeys. A fire cat hunting. Ghosts.’
‘Ghosts? What did they look like?’
‘Dancing balls white light.’
‘Oh, them.’ Wanderers. Spirits doomed to search eternally for some lost or stolen thing. People greedy in life. Sometimes, though, she knew it could have been a sad affair with one hunting a lost love. ‘Any hint of the Thaumaturgs?’
‘No. But close. Must move.’
‘Yes. But first we must eat.’ She sat on a root and dug in her cloth shoulder bag. ‘We have rice for two or three days only. After that, fruit and anything we can catch, I suppose.’ She held up a ball of rice. He worked at his helm to open it. Saeng studied her brother as he popped the rice ball into his mouth and chewed, his gaze searching the woods. So much a figure from her youth. How she could still see the smiling child in his face. Oh, Hanu … what have they done to you?
‘More?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He closed his helm.
No more? For such a large fellow it seemed to her that he ate like a mouse. She packed up the bags and wraps and they set off.
Pushing through the wet leaves she was sodden again almost immediately. She brushed at her skirts in irritation. Hanu, leading, did what he could to break trail. Towards midday the clouds began thickening as the evening rain gathered itself. They exited the tall old forest to enter a broad meadow of dense grass stands reaching higher than either of them.
‘An old rice field,’ Saeng said, wonder in her voice. ‘We must be close to Pra Thaeng, or Pra Dan.’
Hanu signed for silence, now tensed. He motioned Saeng back and drew his long broad blade. She at least knew enough not to say a thing, and backed away quickly. She then heard it: something large approaching, shouldering its way through the thick stands. Great Demon-King! Not another yakshaka! I must help. She summoned her power from within.
An immense monster suddenly crashed through the stand immediately before Hanu, who went down beneath its charging mass. Saeng had a glimpse of a dirty white juggernaut, beady fear-maddened rolling eyes and a curve of flashing horn, then it was gone.
She ran to Hanu and threw herself down at his side. Her brother was climbing to his feet, rather unsteady, giving vent to a strange noise. She helped him stand and realized that the sound he was making was laughter distorted by his helm. She let go her own worry and laughed as well.
‘More scared us,’ he signed.
Saeng nodded, smiling. Yes. A great white rhino — more scared than we. She shook her head, almost silly with relief. ‘Just having lunch, then we come along.’ She invited Hanu on. ‘Some sort of a lesson there.’
They found a path through the fields and glimpsed in the distance the steep thatched roofs of the village houses, tendrils of white smoke rising. Hanu stopped here and motioned aside to the thick grasses. Saeng frowned for a moment, then comprehension dawned and she nodded her fierce agreement, waving him into hiding. She continued on alone. The quiet and stillness of the village struck her immediately. Where was everyone? Surely the Thaumaturgs hadn’t swept through already …
Someone stepped out of a hut ahead. He was dressed as a peasant: a colourful wrap over his head against the sun, a loose blue shirt of coarse material, short pants tight at the calves, and barefoot. But the broad curved blade thrust into his waist sash was most unpeasant-like. He froze, seemingly quite as startled as she. Then a very savage grin climbed his unshaven face and he advanced, swaggering.
‘Where have you been hiding, pretty bird?’ he called.
Saeng’s first reaction was to flee, and she did back away a few steps.
‘No running!’ he shouted. ‘We have everyone. Don’t want them to get hurt, do you?’
Saeng stilled and was surprised to find a calm resolve take hold of her. ‘No,’ she answered, firmly, ‘I do not.’
The fellow rested a hand on his sword grip. ‘Good. Come along then.’
As she walked next to him she asked, ‘You are bounty men collecting people for the army?’
He eyed her, his gaze evaluating. ‘That’s right. Coin for every hale man and woman.’
‘Labourers?’
The man shrugged his indifference. ‘Labourers, workers, haulers, spear-carriers, shovel-carriers, cooks, launderers, carpenters. Or …’ and he looked her up and down, ‘other services.’
He brought her to the temple, the main structure of any village. Here more armed men and women guarded the villagers who knelt in the dirt of the central square. He led her up to another armed fellow, this one quite young, in a long hauberk of overlapping leather scales set with blackened iron rivets that hung to his knees. With this presumed leader stood an old woman, possibly the head of the village.
The leader eyed Saeng then turned an angry glare on the old woman. ‘You gave me your word there was no one else!’ The old woman merely hung her head.
‘I’m not from here,’ Saeng called.
The leader turned his attention to her. ‘What is your name?’
‘Ahn.’
He snorted his disbelief. ‘Well …’ gave her a long lazy-eyed study, ‘the name doesn’t really matter, does it?’ Saeng saw how he eyed her long unbound hair. ‘You’re unmarried.’