By the path now were scattered piles of small, broken bones. To their left, the nearest pit devil stood perfectly still. Its head slowly turned to watch them crawl by. Its eyes were blank pits. A ridge of naked white bone above its nose, dividing left and right, curled up as twin lumps in the brow, and seemed to pierce the forehead like a weapon driven through it. That aside, strangely, it did not look too far from human. But its eyes expressed nothing at alclass="underline" no intelligence, emotion or even hunger. They were perfectly dead, and its lethal mouth hung wide open like something with broken hinges.
When they were safely past the first, there was a scuffling, grinding sound. It was trailing them, mindless as a sheep just following the herd. Kiown halted, subtly gestured for Eric to do the same. The pit devil made a sound in its throat then slowly loped past them on all fours, its shoulder brushing against Eric with intense warmth. It continued ahead, movements lithe and seeming to defy gravity slightly. Its clawed feet and hands left gouged slits in the rock floor like knives through wet clay.
To their left and right, yet more of the creatures watched them with distinct interest. Some were high up on the walls, even hanging from the cavern’s roof by their claws. As Eric began to wonder if the path through these fiendish things would ever end, he was amazed to discover he understood the gargling, snarling sounds they made.
‘Hunger. Builds.’
‘Shape. Moves. Comes.’
‘Scent. Good.’
‘Pack. Need …’
‘Teeth. Bone. Horns.’
‘Scent. Natural.’
‘Climb. Dark.’
‘Seek. Hunt.’
He shuddered.
13
Outside the high tower window she waited, hidden as the Invia could hide even in plain light, as long as she stayed stiller than a statue. His charm she would faintly perceive even through the enchanted walls, and thus follow his progress inside. But she would not save the old man’s life from danger, for there was an extremely powerful mage walking the halls nearby. She felt his presence, and surely her presence disturbed him; maybe like a background noise he’d hardly notice, or maybe he knew exactly what she was, where she was, but was just too busy to bother with her. Yet.
The old man fidgeted nervously on the window ledge, speaking to himself and trying not to look down. She waited ready to catch him if he fell or jumped, and the time passed slowly.
At last, Vous’s daughter began her daily routine. Sometimes, even from high in the clouds, the Invia had heard the girl scream in this way and wondered why. Her curiosity was what had made her choose this window to set down the spy.
The girl opened the latch now, pushed open the glass and cleared her throat. The old man saw his chance and slipped past her. He was inside! Good.
Case had never seen such sadness in all his life, not at funerals, not even worn by those posh grieved parents walking away from gaol after visiting a son who they never thought would be in such a place, face newly busted up and all. This girl topped it all, in her long black gown with her long flaxen hair tied back in a ponytail. How old — seventeen? Twenty? She had one of those slightly heart-shaped faces, with eyes and mouth that drooped a little, and a soft undefined chin. Pretty, but her slow movements and bowed head were grief itself, with — if he wasn’t mistaken — something almost ritual about it. His heart went out to her and for a second he forgot he was meant to sneak into her room.
He quietly ducked past her while she rested her hands on the sill, sad eyes staring unfocused into the distance. If she noticed his feet touching down on her floor she gave no sign.
The room was neat and filled with pretty things: ornaments made of crystal, dolls of all sizes, weavings, knitting balls and needles, and a large plush bed Case felt he could sleep for a week in. There was a ticking device on the wall — a clock? Hard to tell, with those funny symbols on it, and the odd crisscrossing hands at weird angles. The girl watched it, waiting for (if Case judged right) the hour hand to tick over.
A mirror on a stand in the corner showed his reflection as no more than a dim outline, with the insides invisible; what the hell …? Then the beads around his neck clicked just a little when they bumped together, and he remembered the charm. So, it worked. Well, of course it did, you old twit, he thought, the girl didn’t see you, and you went right past her.
Why was she so sad, anyway? It wasn’t for lack of possessions, nor lack of a view. Outside that window, you could see a big portion of the castle down below and, beyond that, the glorious spread of the landscape. Looking out there every day, you’d feel like you owned the whole lot, and for all Case knew, she did. He went to the door, tried the handle as quietly as he could, and found it was locked tight. So, she couldn’t leave. Maybe that explains it, he thought, some of it, anyway …
That was when the girl began to wail. The sound made him jump. She leaned far out over the balcony, head angled up as though she wanted the sound to carry to a higher window, and screamed. No words, as far as he could tell, just the saddest voice he’d ever heard, and it nearly broke his heart.
Case nervously fingered the beads around his neck. He wanted to tell her it was all right, could be worse, she could be an old drunken fool like him who didn’t even have the sense to stay in his own world. He imagined himself saying that to her, and her smiling, maybe a little laugh. Putting his arm around her — no, not like that, just to make her feel better. But she kept on wailing, louder and louder, her voice sometimes breaking.
Peering through the locked door’s keyhole, he saw the backs of people walking past. They had to be able to hear this, but no one even turned to look twice, let alone come comfort the girl. Her cries were edged with anguish now, like she physically hurt. Case squirmed. He couldn’t take much more of this — it was worse than a baby’s crying. The woman with wings had told him not to take off the charm, but by hell she could come here and do something herself, if she wanted to!
Case pulled the chain from over his head. As he did, his reflection solidified in the mirror like normal. ‘Hey, hey now, listen-’ he began.
The girl whipped around, eyes boggling like they were about to pop out of her head. She saw him, gasped, and ran to the door, hitting it with her palms. ‘Help!’ she screamed. ‘Help!’
Running footsteps approached from up the corridor.
‘No, no, wait,’ said Case, backing into the corner. ‘Look, I just wanted to cheer you up, is all. I’m not going to hurt you. What’re you so sad about, crying like that?’
She watched him as though he might turn into a snake or maybe already had, but at least she’d stopped yelling for help. Too late: there was the sound of keys clanking in the lock. Guess I’m screwed now, he thought, before it occurred to him to put the charm back around his neck.
He did it just as the door knob twisted and a dumpy older woman stood in the doorway, wearing an apron and what looked like a plain nurse’s outfit beneath. Her face was mean, Case could tell, the kind of mean that hides behind big insincere smiles.
‘Aziel?’ said the woman in the doorway. ‘You’ve stopped your wailing. Now why do a thing like that?’ She looked at the clock. ‘Not even halfway through! You know he’ll have shut his window already!’
‘Someone …’ the girl began, but she looked from the woman to where Case had been and back again, and seemed to doubt that she should speak.