‘Name yourself, ghost! I command it.’
‘Oh, compulsion is ever the weapon of the undeserving. Let us instead bargain in faith. That severed finger you keep round your neck, Caster, what do you intend with it?’
She clutched at the object. ‘I will not tell you-’
‘Then I in turn will reveal to you the same-nothing.’
She hesitated. ‘Can you not guess?’
‘Ah, and have I guessed correctly?’
‘Yes.’
‘Premature.’
‘I am biding my time, ghost-I am no fool.’
‘No indeed,’ the ghost replied. ‘Even so, let us extend the bargain-’
‘Why? You have revealed nothing of yourself-’
‘Patience. Caster of the Tiles, await my… encouragement. Before you do what you intend. Await me, and I will assist you.’
She snorted. ‘You are a ghost. You have no power-’
‘I am a ghost, and that is precisely why I have power. For what you seek, that is.’
‘Why should I believe you? Why should I agree to anything you suggest?’
‘Very well, my part of the bargain. You speak now with Kuru Qan, once Ceda to King Ezgara Diskanar.’
‘Slain by Trull Sengar…’
Something like a chuckle. ‘Well, someone needed to thrust the spear…’
‘You knew it was coming?’
‘Knowing and being able to do something about it are two different matters, Caster of the Tiles. In any case, lay the true blame at the Errant’s feet. And I admit, I am of a mind to call him out on that, eventually. But like you, I understand the necessity of biding one’s time. Have we a bargain?’
She licked her lips, then nodded. ‘We have.’
‘Then I shall leave you to your education. Be careful when casting your tiles-you risk much by so revealing your talents as a seer.’
‘But I must know-’
‘Knowing and being able to do something about it-’
‘Yes,’ she snapped, ‘I heard you the first time.’
‘You lack respect, girl.’
‘And be glad of it.’
‘You may have a point there. Worth some consideration, I think.’
‘Do you now intend to spy on me my every moment down here?’
‘No, that would be cruel, not to mention dull. When I come here, you shall be warned-the wind, the mist, yes? Now, witness its vanishing.’
She stared down at the swirling cloud, watched as it faded, then was gone.
Silence in the chamber, the air still beyond her own breath. Kuru Qan, the Cedal See how I gather allies. Oh, this shall be sweet vengeance indeed!
The waning sun’s shafts of dusty light cut across the space where the old temple had stood, although the wreckage filling the lower half of that gap was swallowed in gloom. Fragments of facade were scattered on the street-pieces of rats in dismaying profusion. Edging closer, Samar Dev kicked at the rubble, frowning down at the disarticulated stone rodents. ‘This is most… alarming,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ Taxilian said, smiling, ‘now the witch speaks. Tell me, what do you sense in this fell place?’
‘Too many spirits to count,’ she murmured. And all of them… rats.’
‘There was a D’ivers once, wasn’t there? A terrible demonic thing that travelled the merchant roads across Seven Cities-’
‘Gryllen.’
‘Yes, that was its name! So, do we have here another such… Gryllen?’
She shook her head. ‘No, this feels older, by far.’
And what of that bleeding? Of power?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Glancing around, she saw a tall, cloaked man leaning against a wall on the other side of the street, watching them. ‘Some things, long ago grinding to a halt, should never be reawakened. Alas…’
Taxilian sighed. ‘You use that word a lot. “Alas”. You are too resigned, Samar Dev. You flee from your own curiosity-I do not think you were always like this.’
She squinted at him. ‘Oh, my curiosity remains. It’s my belief in my own efficacy that has taken a beating.’
‘We spin and swirl on the currents of fate, do we?’
‘If you like.’ She sighed. ‘Very well, I’ve seen enough. Besides, it will be curfew soon, and I gather guards kill lawbreakers on sight.’
‘You have seen-but you explain nothing!’
‘Sorry, Taxilian. All of this requires… some thought. If I reach any spectacular conclusions any time soon.I will be sure to let you know.’
‘Do I deserve such irony?’
‘No, you don’t. Alas.’
Bugg finally made his way round the corner, emerging from the alley’s gloom then pausing in the sunlit street. He glanced over at Tehol, who stood leaning against a wall, arms crossed beneath his blanket, which he had wrapped about him like a robe. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘why do you hesitate now?’
‘Me? Why, this only appears to be hesitation. You know, you could have let me help you carry that.’
Bugg set the heavy sack down. ‘You never offered.’
‘Well, that would be unseemly. You should have insisted.’ Are you sure you have that right, Master?’
‘Not in the least, but some graciousness on your part would have helped us move past this awkward moment.’ From the bag came soft clucking sounds. Tehol blinked down at it. ‘Bugg, you said retired hens, Correct?’
‘I did. In exchange for some modest repairs to a water trough.’
‘But… they’re not dead.’
‘No, Master.’
‘But… that means one of us has to kill them. Wring their necks. See the light of life dim in their beady eyes. You are a hard man, Bugg.’
‘Me?’
‘Retired-their egg-laying days over. Isn’t there some kind of pasture awaiting them? Some well-strewn pecking ground?’
‘Only the one in the sky, Master. But I see your point. About killing them, I mean.’
‘Blood on your hands, Bugg-I’m glad I’m not you.’
‘This is ridiculous. We’ll figure something out when we get back home.’
‘We could build us a coop on the roof, as mad folk do for pigeons. That way the birds could fly in and out, back and forth, and see something of this fine city.’
‘Chickens can’t fly, Master.’
‘Beats wringing their necks, though, don’t you think?’
‘Seeing the city?’
‘Well, momentarily.’
Clearly satisfied with his solution, Tehol adjusted his blanket then walked out onto the street. Sighing, Bugg collected the sack with its dozen hens and followed at a somewhat slower pace.
‘Well,’ he said as he joined Tehol in front of the ruin, ‘at least that foreign witch is gone.’
‘She was a foreign witch? Rather pretty, in a stolid, earthy way. All right, handsome, then, although I assure you I would never say that to her face, knowing how women are so easily offended.’
‘By a compliment?’
‘Absolutely. If it is the wrong compliment. You have been… inactive far too long, dear Bugg.’
‘Possibly. I am also reticent when it comes to compliments. They have a way of coming after you.’
Tehol glanced over at him, brows lifted. ‘Sounds like you’ve been married once or twice.’
‘Once or twice,’ Bugg replied, grimacing. Glancing up at the ruined Scale House, he went very still. ‘Ah, I see now what she no doubt saw.’
‘If what you are seeing is the source for making the hairs of my neck stand on end every time I come here, then I would be pleased if you explained.’
‘For someone to step inside,’ Bugg said, ‘of necessity there must be a door. And if one does not exist, one must be made.’
‘How can a collapsed building be a door, Bugg?’
‘I begin to comprehend what is coming.’
‘Sufficient to suggest a course of action?’
‘In this matter, Master, the best course is to do nothing.’
‘Hold on, Bugg, that particular conclusion seems to crop up rather often with you.’
‘We’d best get home before curfew, Master. Care to take a turn with this sack?’
‘Errant’s blessing, have you lost your mind?’
‘I thought as much.’
There was little in Sirryn Kanar’s thoughts that reached down to the depths of his soul-he had a sense of that, sufficient to make him recognize that he was blessed with a virtually untroubled life. He possessed a wife frightened enough to do whatever he told her to do. His three children held him in the proper mixture of respect and terror, and he had seen in his eldest son the development of similar traits of dominance and certainty. His position as a lieutenant in the Palace Cell of the Patriotists did not, as far as he was concerned, conflict with his official title of Sergeant of the Guard-protection of the powerful demanded both overt and covert diligence, after all.