He and Corien saw to their weapons and armour. Corien morosely inspected what was left of his brocaded jacket. Orchid walked the chamber hounded by the creature Morn, who seemed determined to persuade her to stay. Antsy hoped she wouldn’t be beaten down, despite the possible truth of this revealed ancestry of hers. Which might or might not even be true. And frankly he had his doubts. He doubted everything until it betrayed him or bit him or tried to kill him — and then he knew he’d been right about it all along.
And the old squadmates called me a pessimist. Given the state of the world I’m the realist!
He and the lad had a few practice sparring matches. Corien was still weak on one side but other than that Antsy knew he faced a duellist vastly more skilled than he. ‘You Darujhistani fellows all seem to be pretty damned good with the sword,’ he told him as they sat resting after a long bout. ‘Why’s that?’
The lad’s shrug said he didn’t rightly know. ‘We have a tradition of swordsmanship that goes back a long way.’
Antsy grunted his understanding. ‘Like where I’m from. We’ve been fighting each other for so long that forming line and taking orders is second nature.’
Corien gave an easy admiring laugh. ‘That’s where we tend to fall short. On that forming line and taking orders part.’
Orchid approached followed by her new shadow. Antsy pulled out a strip of dried meat and cut a bite off, chewing. ‘What’s the verdict?’ he asked around his mouthful.
‘We have to go. This place is still a deathtrap. The longer we remain … well, I’m afraid it will finally get us.’
Antsy shoved home his knife. ‘I’m with you there.’
Morn stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. ‘If you must go, allow me to guide you.’
‘We make for the Gap,’ Orchid warned, firm.
‘If that remains your wish.’
‘Do you know another way out of this place?’ Antsy asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. Lead on.’
The shade, or Andii, or whatever he was, bowed. ‘Very good.’
They gathered together their gear. Orchid was also firm about carrying the remaining waterskins and shoulder bags of food and supplies — including Antsy’s pannier. He and Corien tried to talk her out of it but fared no better than Morn had in changing her mind.
When they were ready she gestured Morn to go ahead. Antsy fell in next to her. He had the crossbow readied once more. ‘Will we still be able to see?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good.’ He cleared his throat, eyed Morn where he walked in front of them. ‘So … what do you think about his claim? You bein’ part Andii and that.’
The tall girl bit her lip — she appeared terrified by the idea. ‘I don’t know. Part of me feels that it is right. But … I can’t be sure.’ Her gaze shifted to Morn. ‘Part of the reason I can’t be sure is I don’t know if we can trust this one.’
Prudently, Antsy merely nodded his agreement.
‘He is more than he pretends to be,’ she continued. ‘The shades … maybe I misheard, or mistranslated, but when they bowed … they called him Lord.’
Antsy’s brows rose in appreciation. Really? Some kinda Andii high muckety-muck. Or the ghost of one. Who knew? He joined Orchid in studying the man’s back and wondered: had they just made a bad trade … Malakai for this fellow?
Morn led them through a maze of chambers and halls. What they found cluttering these rooms made Antsy regret his vow not to stop to loot. Obviously no one had ever reached these precincts and the riches revealed made him almost whimper. The collected treasures of uncounted centuries lay sprawled at his feet like the wreckage of a siege. Shattered delicate glass artwork, fragments of precious ceramics, paintings, busts carved in precious stone. Even upended tables and furniture that were themselves beautiful works of art. He winced as his sandalled feet ground priceless fragments into the stone floor.
The deep aquamarine monochrome mage-light made it impossible to distinguish one gem from another, or gold from other metals, but he wasn’t above picking up the odd stone or small piece of metalwork to study it more closely. Ahead, Morn studiously ignored his darting and stooping like a scavenging bird at a battlefield.
‘Look here,’ Orchid murmured, awed. She’d stopped at an immense tapestry that hung fully five paces from floor to ceiling. It was the representation of a city hugging the coast of a lake. Galleys plied the waves. Men and women dressed in unfamiliar archaic costume crowded the waterfront. They were busy at markets, buying and selling fruit, birds, carpets, finely wrought furniture, even horses. One immense pale-blue dome dominated the city’s skyline. Pearl white, Antsy guessed it would be, in the light of day.
‘That is Darujhistan,’ Corien announced, surprised. ‘Or looks like it. You see the dome?’
‘Darujhistan more than two thousand years ago,’ Morn supplied. He had returned to them, utterly silent. ‘During the age of the Tyrant Kings. It is said none could match their mastery of sorcery.’
‘I know of no dome like that,’ Corien said, dubious.
Hands clasped at his back, Morn raised and dropped his shoulders. ‘I understand much was lost during the cataclysm of their fall.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Antsy demanded.
Corien winced and Orchid sent a glare, but the Andii seemed unruffled. ‘It is true. I have been … away … for some time. But I was scrupulous in questioning everyone I met for news. There was little else to do where I’ve been all this time.’
Antsy snorted his scepticism. Morn merely gestured ahead. ‘This way, if you please. There is a light in the next corridor.’
Antsy gaped. ‘What? Why didn’t you say so?’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘And all this time we’ve been-’ He clamped his mouth shut and signed to Corien in the hand signals he’d been teaching the lad. Scout ahead.
Corien nodded, jogged off.
Antsy shouldered his crossbow, gestured that Orchid should stay behind him, and followed.
He found the lad waiting at a corner. Corien pointed ahead and held up one finger. One. A sentry. Antsy motioned him aside, glanced round the corner. One fellow, sheathed swords at his sides, standing straight in the middle of the corridor with a lamp behind, facing their way. Canny, that. Not facing the light.
He raised the crossbow, nodded to Corien, who slowly drew his weapons. He took three short breaths, steadied his arms, then stepped out from the corner, training the crossbow on the man. ‘Don’t move!’ he commanded. ‘You’re covered.’ Corien stepped out with him, weapons bared.
The figure didn’t even flinch; his hands remained at his belt. The head turned slightly and one word was called in some language Antsy didn’t recognize. ‘Don’t move!’ he ordered again. The fellow appeared to be wearing the lightest of armour, leathers only, but also some sort of helmet. He’d made no move to his sheathed weapons.
As they came closer, a gasp sounded from Orchid and Corien straightened, grunting his surprise. His weapons fell slightly. The barbed point of Antsy’s bolt didn’t waver from the man’s chest. ‘Who’re you?’ he challenged.
‘Red …’ Orchid began, a warning in her voice.
The fellow didn’t answer. Closer, he saw in the dim light that the man was in fact a woman, and that she wore a simple small mask that hid the upper half of her face. A mask? Who did she think she was? A fucking robber?
Another fellow came jogging up the corridor and Antsy swung his crossbow. ‘You’re covered!’ he called.
Orchid touched his arm. ‘Red …’
‘Get back, dammit.’
Corien suddenly sheathed his weapons.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Antsy snarled.
‘It’s all right, Red.’
‘What? Tell me why this is all right.’
The newcomer stepped forward, hands at his sides. He too wore some sort of multicoloured mask.