“You have some answers to give, Lord Malkior?” he said.
“Are you sure they can’t wait?” asked Malkior pleasantly. “I am about to be very busy.”
“The Quan are not happy with you.”
Malkior turned and stared. The voices babbled in a chorus of anger and confusion. “What?”
“One of their Exarchs has been killed. They think you have something to do with it.” Malkior squelched the impulse to slay the fool on the spot.
“What nonsense is this?”
“The Exarch was killed on the prison hulk.”
“That’s not possible. He was alive when I saw him not two hours ago.”
“He is dead now.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. But there was no mark upon him, and the Quan Overlords think his soul was drained.” Alaryn looked at him suspiciously. Malkior wondered if the signs of his recent ritual feeding were visible to the Intercessor’s eye. The wrong impression made here might prove fatal.
“Well what did the men on the hulk tell you?”
“Nothing. They were all dead.”
A chill passed up Malkior’s spine. A crescendo of fear rose among the voices. Was it possible that his supposed son had done this? Had the little bastard been that much more capable than Malkior gave him credit for being? Had he sat there and laughed at Malkior then casually murdered a Quan Exarch and his Intercessor-recruited bodyguard before making his escape and returning to the embassy? Malkior laughed, caught between the impossibility of the idea and the apparent fact of it being true.
“I can assure you this is no laughing matter, Lord Malkior. You told us the boy would be an easy target. You asked for a Quan Exarch to interrogate him yourself. Now he is gone and all witnesses to the way the boy escaped are dead — other than yourself. The Quan are quite keen to ask you some questions.”
“I’ll bet they are.”
“No need to worry about Lady Asea,” said Alaryn. “The Council is sending a company of soldiers to request her presence too.”
Malkior felt his whole plan slipping beyond his control. If he remained here, the Sea Devils might catch him and he could imagine the form their interrogation would take. He had no desire to find out whether he was capable of overcoming multiple Exarchs in sorcerous conflict or of surviving the sort of sorcerous interrogation they would perform. He had no desire to be stuck here with the Quan turned against him either. Fortunately, as always, he had prepared a bolthole and was ready to use it, and at least Asea was trapped here at the mercy of the Quan, and he doubted they would be gentle with her.
Rik stepped out into the courtyard in the centre of the embassy. His mind reeled from the night’s events. What he saw stumped him completely. The bodyguard was assembled there and Asea’s dress baskets were set up in the middle of the courtyard.
“If you would be so kind as to open the baskets and take out their contents,” she said to Sergeant Hef. “Please be very careful.”
Slowly, realisation of what was happening filled Rik. As he watched the men opened the wicker baskets. There was cloth within, but it was not made in the form of dresses. It was made in the form of Benjario’s huge balloon. As Asea gave calm careful orders the huge gasbags were laid flat and attached to eyeholes in the side of baskets with cables of spidersilk. There were three of them, and space enough in them for all ten Foragers, Sardec and Asea. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.
Asea looked inside each of the baskets and produced a small rune-covered flask. They were much smaller than the ones she had used to summon elementals from in the past, but if he guessed correctly containing creatures more than strong enough for her purposes.
“Can you control all of them at once?” he asked her.
“They are much less powerful than War Elementals, and much less strong-willed. It will be a strain but I can manage it.”
“What about the wards in the city walls? Will they not destroy them?”
“I doubt it, but if they do it will be of no matter.”
“It will be to us, if your creatures fail and we plummet to our doom.”
“That will not happen, Rik. Trust me.”
“I guess I am just going to have to.”
Without further ado, she opened the first of the flasks. A small salamander, a tiny fire-elemental, spun out, its flickering light mirrored in the flask’s polished interior.
At Asea’s command men opened the mouth of the gasbag. The elemental moved closer and hot air began to fill it. One by one, more salamanders exited the flask. One by one, the gasbags rose. Asea ordered the men to hold them down.
Sardec turned to Weasel and the Barbarian. “It’s a pity about Ambassador Valefor’s accident,” he said.
“Accident, sir?” said Weasel.
“The way he fell from the balloons when we were trying to escape.”
“Right you are, sir,” said Weasel. “I shall go and fetch him.”
“Don’t kill him,” Asea said. “He may be innocent, and even if he is not, we don’t have the time. Get aboard. If need be, I will deal with Valefor later.”
Her tone told them that a quick clean death might be better for him if he had betrayed them. Asea’s vengeance would not be pretty.
Vengeance is good, the voices in Rik’s head whispered.
The balloon lurched skyward. The courtyard of the embassy receded below them. Soon they were drifting above the cities red-tiled roofs, getting higher with every heartbeat. Sardec clutched the wickerwork of the basket with his hook and stared down. It looked like they had taken off none too soon.
Coming up the street towards the embassy he could see a large body of men. By the light of their glowstone lanterns he could see that they numbered in the hundreds and were armed with muskets. A quick calculation told Sardec that they were most likely out of range now, which was good, because he shuddered to think what would happen if a musket ball penetrated the silk gasbag overhead.
The wind pushed them away from the sea. Sardec was glad because from this height he could see something strange was happening out there. The waters around the edge of the harbour boiled. Something massive and luminescent blocked the harbour mouth. It looked like a squid but was big as an island and its tentacles seemed so long that they might be able to reach up and pull the balloons from the sky. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter. It was cold up here but that was not what had caused the chill to run down his spine.
They drifted above temple spires. The waters of countless streams glinted silver below them. Once or twice he heard shouts and screams. Perhaps someone had looked up and seen the balloons drifting across the moon.
Rik still made Sardec uneasy. He had the feral inhuman look to him that Sardec had noticed earlier, and there was something strange and pained about his movements. If Sardec had not known better he would have thought the half-man possessed.
What had gone on between the Sardean and the half-breed, Sardec wondered? Why did Rik look so battered? What exactly was the nature of their conversation? And why was one of the highest lords of the Dark Empire talking to Rik anyway. Had there been some sort of secret negotiations going on between him and Asea, using the half-breed as a go between? If so, why had Rik claimed to have escaped and killed a Sea Devil in the process?
The city walls came ever closer, and with them the moment Sardec dreaded. There were potent warding spells woven into those walls. Amongst other things the wards were intended to keep war elementals out. What would happen when the salamanders feeding hot air into those balloons encountered the wards? Perhaps they would simply be snuffed out. That was not a reassuring thought so far above the ground.
Lord Malkior stepped back into the shadows at the back of the room. The drumbeat march of the Council’s soldiers had stopped outside the embassy, and they were demanding the doors be opened. They were going to be deeply disappointed when they got inside.