Rix did not know this country and took many wrong turnings before finally locating the rendezvous, hours later than he had planned. By that time the sky had gone the colour of brass, and both men and horses were nervous. Rix did not blame them. A mountain ridge was not the place to be when a storm struck.
“We’ll take cover down under that ledge ’til it passes,” he said, pointing with Maloch. “Ride!”
His band of ne’er-do-wells roared, raised their fists in the air and pounded down the slope at speeds likely to break their necks, or their horses’. Rix followed more steadily, going over his plan. A forgotten detail niggled at him, but he could not dredge it up.
“The hunt was a cover story,” he said once they were under the ledge and the rain was streaming down all around. “I’ve got a bold and audacious plan that, if we pull it off, will make all our names.”
“Bugger our names,” said Yudi, a big, foul-mouthed fellow with a pink face and yellow, curling hair. “Can’t eat a name, can I?”
“Once you have the name,” said Rix, “it’s not hard to trade on it for gold, if that’s the most important thing in your life.”
“It’s the second most important thing,” Yudi said, nudging his neighbour and sniggering.
“A name will help with that, too,” Rix said coldly. “Shut up and listen. A few miles across yonder ridge there’s a great sinkhole, sacred to the enemy before Hightspall was founded. Some people say it’s one of the co-existing branches of the Abysm — ”
“What the hell’s an abysm?” said Yudi. “Sounds like a — ”
Rix cut him off. “It’s the conduit down which the Cythonians’ souls pass from life to death. At least, that’s what they believe.” He paused for a full minute. “But it’s also the place where their wrythen king, Lyf, hurled Axil Grandys after he killed him — and turned him to stone.”
He had their attention now. Every child in Hightspall knew about the Five Heroes’ mysterious disappearance, though no one knew what had happened to them until Lyf had admitted it to Rix and Tali almost six weeks ago.
“Co-existing?” said Legz, a slender, black-haired fellow with a hungry eye. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s only one Abysm, but it exists in a number of places at the same time.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Nor to me,” said Rix. “But it’s so.”
“What good’s a bloody bit o’ stone anyway?” said Yudi disgustedly.
“Actually, Lyf turned Grandys to precious black opal,” said Rix. “But the body, not being Cythonian, couldn’t pass through the Abysm. It’s still floating there, deep down.”
Someone whistled, and a small, black-haired fellow said, “All that opal must be worth a chancellor’s ransom. And we’re going to get it out, right? Then break it to bits and share out the opal?”
“Certainly not! We’re going to take it back to Garramide, in one piece.”
“What’s the use of some crappy old statue?” said Yudi.
“It’s not a statue,” Rix said. “I just told you, it’s Grandys’ petrified body. And it could win the war.”
They stared at him. No one spoke.
“How?” said a grizzled old fellow with a dingy, stringy beard and ears that stuck out like butterfly wings.
“I’m going to mount his body on top of the main tower at Garramide, behind the gates. Anyone who comes within a mile will see Grandys perched there, watching over the fortress.”
“How’s that gonna help?”
“The enemy are very superstitious. They wouldn’t dare attack while looking their destroyer in the face, even if Lyf himself led them.”
“Why not?” said Yudi.
“Because Grandys betrayed Lyf in the first place, then hacked his feet off with this very sword — Maloch.”
Rix raised it with a flourish, and felt a surge of strength and certainty burn through him.
“Lyf’s terrified of this sword, because it contains one of Grandys’ greatest spells.” Rix didn’t know that, but the deception was justifiable. “I’ve fought Lyf with Maloch, twice, and I know how it terrifies him. Ready?”
“Yes!” they roared.
“Then let’s go and get Grandys.”
As he led them back up the ridge, Rix heard Yudi muttering to the man next to him.
“Black opal is priceless, ain’t it?”
“A man-size piece would be worth buckets of gold,” said the other man. “Maybe barrels.”
“And there’s no saying Grandys has got to be complete. Bits could have cracked off him at any time, with all those dead souls whizzin’ past. Don’t reckon old Grandys would miss a finger now. Just snap one off, slip it in your pocket and when we get back home, we’re made.”
“Reckon I’ll snap off something a bit bigger than a finger,” said the second man, and they laughed like blocked drains.
CHAPTER 59
Tali could not sleep for thinking about Tobry’s fate, and the approaching army that looked likely to end them all, plus the last resistance in Hightspall.
Eventually she gave up and went up to the observatory to study the mural. It looked different now. The body and limbs were less twisted, the florid face showed less pain and more rage, far more menace. Rix must have changed it.
But how could he have? He’d gone out hunting during the day and had not yet returned. She raced down the broken steps.
“Holm?” said Tali, shaking him awake. “I’m worried.”
“About something else, you mean? Something new?”
“Do you know any way that Rix’s portrait of Grandys could change itself?”
“No.” He rose at once. “But if it’s due to magery, Tobry might.”
They found Tobry up under one of the empty domes, where he practised magery in private. He was lathered in sweat.
“I didn’t notice any magery in the mural…” Tali said when she had explained. “But I wasn’t looking for it either.”
“Let’s take a look,” said Tobry. “If I’m right in what I’m thinking, every moment matters.”
They followed him down, then up the broken steps to the observatory.
“It is different,” Tobry said after studying the mural for a minute or two. “And if Rix isn’t here to change it, who did?”
He waved his elbrot back and forth over the mural, concentrating on the places where the changes had occurred. Tali saw no discernible difference to the elbrot’s aura, and neither could her own senses detect any magery.
“Nothing,” said Tobry.
“But it’s definitely changed,” said Tali. “Do you think one of the servants could have done it?”
Tobry snorted. “The brushstrokes are consistent. And masterful.”
“Could it be affected by a form of magery we know nothing about?”
“Anything could be affected by a form of magery we know nothing about,” he said wryly. “But I don’t think so. I think it’s got something to do with the painting itself, and Rix’s gift for producing paintings that are divinations.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” said Holm.
“I don’t think Rix has gone hunting,” Tobry said slowly. “I’m afraid he’s gone off to do something so wild that it’s actually changing his divination — creating a new future, if you like.”
“Where could he have gone?” said Tali.
“No idea.”
“Swelt will know,” said Holm. “Come on.”
“Rix went alone,” said Swelt, when they ran him to ground in the buttery where, though it was after 2 a.m., he was taking inventory of the kitchen stores on a grey oval slate. “And no one has left the fortress since.”
“Damn,” said Tobry.
“But half a dozen fellows, mostly hotheads, left an hour before he did.”
“Were they going hunting too?”
“That’s what they told the stable boys, but I’m not so sure. Come up.”
In his little empire, Swelt consulted a scribbled note in a ledger. “They took a lot of rope, a large block and tackle, canvas and other gear.”