'Stop this, Edeard bellowed, his voice reverberating loudly round the chamber. 'We know who you are. Several squads of constables are closing in. Our ge-eagles are flying outside; you cannot escape.
A whole volley of bullets lashed at him. He shook his head in dismay. Dinlay rushed past, half visible as he pursued two men. Someone went sprawling, their inertia assisted by telekinesis so their head smacked into a stalagmite. Edeard snatched up two gang members and crashed them together. They fell limply on to the floor. Two more found themselves leaving the ground, and screamed wildly.
'Get up here.
It was the same longtalk voice as before, cutting cleanly though the shouts and mental babble inside the chamber. Edeard looked round zealously, trying to see who it was. His farsight caught Medath rushing into the opening at the foot of the central pillar.
Four of the gang were now standing together, their hands held high in surrender, pistols abandoned at their feet. Boyd appeared directly in front of them, his pistol raised ready. More pistol shots echoed round the chamber. Then there was a pain-wracked howl, overriding all the other voices. Macsen flicked into visibility behind a man who was clutching at his shoulder; blood poured through his fingers. Macsen pulled his pistol away from the wound. 'Next time it will be a head shot, he announced loudly. 'Now stop this, you are under arrest. He vanished again.
Edeard raced over to the central pillar. On the way his third hand picked up three gang members, who immediately stopped struggling. He dropped them beside Dinlay. The sound of footsteps reverberated out of the pillar's opening. When Edeard looked inside he saw the spiral stair winding upwards.
'Oh come on, he yelled up at Medath. 'There's nowhere to go. But who told him to go up there? Could they really see though our concealment? With a growl of anger, he started running up the steps. Almost immediately, he slipped on a cumbersome curve, banging his knee badly. The burst of pain was enough to stretch a mist of red sparkles across his vision. Medath's footsteps were becoming fainter as Edeard scrambled upright again. 'If that's how you want to do it, he muttered, and set off again.
'Edeard? Kanseen's voice echoed up the stairs.
'Medath went up here. I'll get him. You hang on down there.
The pillar walls were incredibly thick, restricting his farsight more than he liked. He could just make out the constable squads swarming towards the tower. In the chamber below, his squad-mates surrounded the defeated gang members. Above him, then-was a moving glimmer which he knew was Medath's mind.
Round and round the pair of them went. A tiny thread of orange light twinkled out of the narrow vault of the roof above Edeard. Just enough to illuminate the horrible curving stairs. He had to stretch his legs at each semi-jump upwards. How Medath kept up such a pace was beyond understanding. Edeard's heart was hammering loudly, while he could feel his lungs burning inside his chest. Sweat was pouring down his back and legs. When he was two thirds of the way up he simply had to slow, which only increased his anger. Medath started to pull ahead.
By the time Edeard reached the last spiral he was practically walking. Each breath had to be hauled down into his lungs with a big heave of his chest. Hair was glued against his forehead with sweat. Concentration was difficult. Nonetheless he managed to send his farsight out on to the circular platform which topped the tower. The eight spikes that rose from the edge stabbed up into the sky, their slightly crooked tips peaking at another forty feet above the platform floor.
Medath was out there. Standing ten feet in front of the central cone where the stair exited. He was already aiming the pistol at the opening, waiting for Edeard to emerge.
'Oh Lady, Edeard wheezed in dismay. The anger which had carried him so far was now diluted by fatigue. I should have just waited at the bottom, hunger would bring him down eventually. He started up the last few steps. It would be easy enough to deal with Medath. But then, Medath would know that. And I still don't know who that longtalker was. Or where they are.
As if to reinforce his concern, a clammy feeling of trepidation began to manifest. It was so strong he had to pause again. Something was badly wrong, he knew that without knowing why. He took a more cautious step upwards, and began a thorough survey of the platform. He froze. Medath wasn't alone out there on the platform. The floor was feeling the weight of four more pairs of feet, yet Edeard's farsight could find nothing.
'Nanitte, he spat as his anger rose again. Oh, crap; Macsen will never let this one drop.
When he was almost up to the exit, Edeard concealed himself again, and asked the city to let him through the wall. He emerged out on to the platform five feet to the side of the exit. The first thing which surprised him was the wind. Down on the ground, it was perfectly calm, up here it pushed against him. He leaned into it. His four concealed foes were standing together over by one of the spikes. Edeard could see nothing against the pale wash of nebula light that shimmered across the heavens above Makkathran.
As quietly as he could, he made his way over to them. He passed within a couple of yards of Medath, who was still staring at the stair exit, his long-barrel pistol held steady. Once Edeard was past the comically alert gang man he realized the platform Moor actually slanted down towards the edge. A tinge of what must be vertigo produced a shiver along his legs. He refused to let it get the better of him, and crept forwards.
The feet began to shift. At first, the two foes at the front took a step backwards; then they all began to move closer to the spike. Edeard grinned savagely, and carried on after them.
He was only five yards away when something struck him with colossal force, impacting on his left side, just below the bottom of his rib cage. Edeard cried out as much from surprise as pain. His concealment faltered as he fought for breath. Medath swung round. Another blow slammed into Edeard, knocking him to the floor.
'Shoot him, a longtalk whisper ordered.
How did they see me?
Medath fired. The bullet almost got through Edeard's shield. A powerful telekinetic shove sent him skidding down the slight incline. He had a terrible flashback to the day by Birmingham Pool when Arminel had pushed him over the edge. Lady help!
'Again.
The bullet struck him, as did a further telekinetic blow. Edeard was shunted over the edge of the platform. His arms flailed wildly, but straining fingers missed anything solid.
'Can you fly, Waterwalker?
Edeard plummeted downwards, screaming all the way. He instinctively tried to grip the tower with his third hand. He could even feel the force lock into the grainy structure of the wall. It didn't stop his descent.
His thoughts arrowed down to the city's slumbering mind as the air roared around him. Can you help? he pleaded to the slow, giant thoughts.
It was useless. He was falling. Falling.
Kristabel!
Somewhere on the edge of perception he heard her scream wildly. He directed one last thought — / love you. Content she would know. It made death more bearable. Falling.
Beneath him a vivid wave of alarm gushed from the minds of the constables scurrying round the base of the tower. Falling.