Setoc hesitated, and then said, ‘Keep Baaljagg here. I want to see if I can catch it.’
For once the twins had no complaint.
The animal was facing away but it caught some noise or scent when Setoc was still a hundred paces off and it shifted round to regard her. Its eyes, she saw, were strange, as if swallowed in something both lurid and dark. At least the animal didn’t bolt.
Ghost wolves, stay away from me now. We need this beast.
Cautiously, she edged closer.
The horse watched. It had been eating cactus, she saw, and scores of spines were embedded in its muzzle, dripping blood.
Hungry. Starving. She spoke in low, soothing tones: ‘How long have you been out here, friend? All alone, your companions gone. Do you welcome our company? I’m sure you do. As for those spines, we’ll do something about that. I promise.’
And then she was close enough to reach out and touch the animal. But its eyes held her back. They didn’t belong to a horse. They looked… demonic.
It’s been eating cactus-how much? She looked to where she had seen it cropping the ground. Oh, spirits below. If all that is now in your stomach, you are in trouble. Did it look to be in pain? How could she tell? It was clearly weary, yes, but it drew a steady and deep breath, ears flicking curiously as it in turn studied her. Finally, Setoc slowly reached out to take the frayed leather traces. When she gathered them up the animal lifted its head, as if about to prod her with its wounded muzzle.
Setoc wrapped the reins about her left hand and gingerly took hold of one of the spines. She tugged it loose. The horse flinched. That and nothing more. Sighing, she began plucking.
If she licked the blood from the spines? What would the beast think of that? She decided not to find out. Oh, but I dearly do want to lick this blood. My mouth yearns for that taste. I can smell its warm life.
Old man, give me your skin.
When she’d removed the last spine she reached up and settled a hand on its blazoned brow. ‘Better? I hope so, friend.’
‘Mercy,’ said a thin voice in accented trader tongue, ‘I’d forgotten about that.’
Setoc stepped round the horse and saw, lying in a careless sprawl on the ground, a corpse. For an instant her breath caught-‘Toc?’
‘Who? No. Saw him, though, once. Funny eyes.’
‘Does nothing dead ever go away around here?’ Setoc demanded, fear giving way to anger.
‘I don’t know, but can you even hope to imagine the anguish people like me feel when seeing one such as you? Young, flush, with such clear and bright eyes. You make me miserable.’
Setoc drew the horse round.
‘Wait! Help me up-I’m snagged on something. I don’t mind being miserable, so long as I have someone to talk to. Being miserable without anyone to talk to is far worse.’
Really. Setoc walked over. Studied the corpse. ‘You have a stake through your chest,’ she said.
‘A stake? Oh, a spoke, you mean. That explains it.’
‘Does it?’
‘Well, no. Things got confused. I believe, however, I am lying on a fragment of the hub, with perhaps another fragment of spoke buried deep in the earth. This is what happens when a carriage gets picked up and then dropped back down. I wonder if horses have much memory. Probably not, else this one would still be running. So, beautiful child, will you help me?’
She reached down. ‘Take my arm, then-can you manage that much? Good, now hold tight while I try and lift you clear.’
It was easier than she’d expected. Skin and bones don’t weigh much, do they?
‘I am named Cartographer,’ said the corpse, ineffectually trying to brush dust from his rags.
‘Setoc.’
‘So very pleased to meet you.’
‘I thought I made you miserable.’
‘I delight in misery.’
She grunted. ‘You’ll fit right in. Come with me.’
‘Wonderful, where are you going?’
‘We’re going after your carriage-tell me, is everyone in it dead like you?’
Cartographer seemed to ponder the question, and then he said, ‘Probably. But let’s find out, shall we?’
The children of Onos Toolan and Hetan seemed unaffected by the arrival of yet another animated corpse. When Cartographer saw Baaljagg he halted and pointed, but said nothing.
Setoc took the boy’s hand and led him close to the horse. She vaulted on to the animal’s back and reached down and lifted up the boy.
The twins set out once more on the trail. Baaljagg fell in with them.
‘Did you know,’ Cartographer said, ‘the dead still dream?’
‘No,’ said Setoc, ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Sometimes I dream that a dog will find me.’
‘A dog?’
‘Yes. A big one, as big as that one.’
‘Well, it seems your dream has come true.’
‘I hope not.’
She glanced down at him as he trudged beside the horse. ‘Why?’
‘Because, in my dream, the dog buries me.’
Thinking back to her vision of Baaljagg clawing free of the ground, she smiled. ‘I don’t think you have to worry about that, not with this dog, Cartographer.’
‘I hope you are right. I do have one question, however.’
She sighed. A corpse that won’t shut up. ‘Go on.’
‘Where are we?’
‘The Wastelands.’
‘Ah, that explains it, then.’
‘Explains what?’
‘Why, all this… waste.’
‘Have you ever heard of the Wastelands, Cartographer?’
‘No.’
‘So let me ask you something. Where did your carriage come from, and how is it you don’t even know the land you were travelling in?’
‘Given my name, it is indeed pathetic that I know so little. Of course, this land was once an inland sea, but then one might say that of countless basins on any number of continents. So that hardly amounts to brilliant affirmation of my profession. Alas, since dying, I have been forced to radically reassess all my most cherished notions.’
‘Are you ever going to answer my questions?’
‘Our arrival was sudden, but Master Quell judged it propitious. The client expressed satisfaction and indeed no small amount of astonishment. Far better this wretched land than the realm within a cursed sword, and I would hardly be one to dispute that, would I? Maps being what they are and such. Naturally, it was inevitable that we let down our guard. Ah, see ahead. Ample evidence of that.’
The tracks seemed to vanish for fifteen or twenty paces. Where they resumed wreckage lay scattered about, including half an axle.
A lost horse and a lost wheel behind them, half an axle here-how had the thing managed to keep going? And what was it doing in that gap? Flying?
‘Spirits below, Cartographer-’ and then she stopped. From her height astride the horse, she could make something out ahead. Daylight was fading, but still… ‘I see it.’
Two more stretches without tracks, then where they resumed various parts of ornate carriage lay strewn about. She saw one large section of painted wood, possibly from the roof, bearing deep gouges scored through it, as if some massive hand had been tearing the carriage to pieces. Some distance ahead rested the carriage itself, or what was left of it. The humped forms of dead horses lay thrown about to the sides.
‘Cartographer-’
‘It struck from the sky,’ the corpse replied. ‘Was it a dragon? It most assuredly was not. An enkar’al? What enkar’al could boldly lift from the ground the entire carriage and all its horses? No, not an enkar’al. Mind you, I was witness only to the first attack-tell me, Setoc, do you see anyone?’
‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘Stavi, Storii! Hold up there.’ She lifted the boy and set him down on the ground. ‘I will ride ahead. I know it’s getting dark, but keep your eyes on the sky-there’s something up there.’ Somewhere. Hopefully not close.