Orb Sceptre Throne (38 page)

And all the while he was powerless to speak of any of it. He tried – gods, how he fought to utter a word of objection or defiance! But the moment he contemplated such rebellion his mouth and throat constricted as if throttled. Not even his hands would cooperate to scrawl a plea for help. And so, like a prisoner within his own skull, he could only watch and speculate.

Whatever these fiends planned, it reached back all the way to their internment. A resurrection of their rule as one of the legendary Tyrants. Yet why the elaborate charade? Why wait to declare their return? Why the mask? Ebbin was frustrated beyond measure by the mystery. He felt that he had almost all the pieces, yet arranging a meaningful pattern defied him.

One strange moment seemed to almost shock him out of his fugue. He was working in the tent on the salvage site near the shore at the base of Majesty Hill when someone stopped before his table and spoke to him. He looked up from the wage lists, blinking, to see a dark muscled fellow with a wide mane of black hair peering down at him; startling honest concern creased the man’s features. ‘Yes …?’

‘Are you sure you are all right?’ the fellow asked.

Something squeezed Ebbin’s chest painfully – and it was no outside coercion from the masked fiend. He fought to find his voice. ‘Yes … yes. Thank you.’ Emboldened, he took another breath.

‘Your name …?’

‘Barathol Mekhar.’

Ebbin searched his mental lists, found the man.
Foreigner, skilled, unregistered blacksmith
. Something in that sketch moved him to lurch forward, saying, ‘You have to—’ Then came the clenching fist at his throat. He struggled to continue, even to breathe.

The man’s puzzled concern returned. ‘Yes?’

Then Taya was there at his side to wrap an arm about his shoulders, and squeeze, painfully. ‘My uncle has a lot on his mind,’ she explained sweetly. ‘He is ashamed. He gambled, you see. And he lost. He lost everything.’ She squeezed him again, digging in the nails of a hand. ‘Isn’t that so, Uncle?’

Ebbin could only nod his sunken head.

‘Well,’ the man said, his voice gruff but gentle, ‘I understand. I was just saying that I could set up a smithing station here for your needs. Sharpening tools, forging items.’

‘Yes,’ Taya said. ‘That would be excellent. Thank you. I believe we will have need of that.’

After one last warning clasp she watched while the man moved off, then she left Ebbin to pick up his stylus and return to his record-keeping.

Antsy and Corien led the way out of Pearl Town, as Panar had named it. Malakai immediately slipped away without a word. Ashamed to be seen with the likes of us, Antsy grumbled to himself. Progress was slow, as they elected to travel with no light at all. Orchid murmured directions from close behind. Despite the girl’s descriptions of the way ahead Antsy kept crashing into walls in the pitch black. And Corien limped, unsteady, grunting his pain, his breathing wet and laboured.

‘I see them,’ Orchid announced after they’d walked a maze of narrow streets. ‘Stairs, ahead.’

Antsy let out a snort of disgust.
Just great – climbing blasted stairs in the dark!

‘They’re very broad. Open on the right. They climb a cliff up and up … Great Mother – so high!’

In the dark Antsy rolled his eyes.
Wonderful. Absolute night all around and a drop-off. Couldn’t get any better
. ‘Malakai?’

‘No sign.’

Gettin’ too casual, he is
. Antsy’s right foot banged up against the riser of the first stair and he tumbled forward on to them. He dropped his sword and scraped a shin, cursing. The blade clanged from the stone steps like anvils falling in the dark.

‘Sorry, Red,’ Orchid offered, sounding embarrassed.

Antsy just cursed under his breath. Corien almost fell over him as he felt his way forward in the black ink.
Fucking band of travelling harlequins, we are. Just missing the floppy hats
.

Orchid grasped his arm to help him up and he almost yanked it free.

‘Keep tight to the left,’ she suggested. ‘Single file … I guess.’

‘I’ll go first,’ Antsy said. Then he froze, his lips clenching tight. ‘Orchid – where’s my Hood-damned sword?’

‘Oh! Sorry.’ She pressed it to his hand. He snapped it up, grated a sullen, ‘Thanks.’

Can’t even find my own damned sword! Useless! Completely useless!

Up they went, sliding along the smooth left wall. The staircase was quite broad, with shallow risers only a hand’s breadth or so in height. Luckily the natural list of the Spawn tilted forward and to the left. If it had leaned the other way he didn’t think they could have managed. A gathering warm breeze dried the sweat on the nape of his neck and pressed against his back as the air pushed in around him, rushing up this access. Just warm air rising? Or something more … worrisome? He couldn’t be sure.

‘Feel that wind?’ Corien asked from the dark.

‘So pleasant for a change,’ Orchid answered.

Antsy said nothing.

Finally, Orchid ordered a stop. ‘Something’s ahead. Doors. Broken doors. Stone. Very thick. Looks like we can get through, though.’ Antsy grunted his understanding. ‘Careful now. Slow.’

Antsy and Corien felt their way over shards of shattered rock, ducked under leaning eaves of larger fragments. The Darujhistani swordsman was stumbling more and more and Antsy found himself helping him constantly now. He whispered, ‘How’re you doing?’

‘Not so well, I’m afraid. Feeling weak.’

Antsy touched the back of a hand to the lad’s forehead: hot and slick with sweat. Maybe an infection. That blade or sharpened stick couldn’t have been too clean. ‘We have to stop,’ he said, louder.

‘Corien?’ Orchid asked. ‘It’s bad?’

‘My apologies. Not what I had in mind.’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ she demanded, outraged. ‘I asked earlier!’

‘We couldn’t very well have stayed there,’ he said, tired and patient, ‘could we?’

‘There are rooms ahead,’ came Malakai’s voice from far to the fore.

Despite himself Antsy flinched at the sudden announcement from the dark.
Hate it when he does that!
‘What’ve you been doing!’ he yelled back angrily.

‘Scouting,’ came the answer, much closer now. ‘Orchid, the hall goes on straight then there are multiple rooms to either side. Take one. We need to rest anyway.’

Antsy started forward, still helping Corien. ‘Any sign of the Malazans?’

‘No. None. No sign of anyone at all.’

‘Perhaps we should’ve brought that fellow Panar with us,’ Orchid said.

Antsy snorted. ‘What could he do for us?’

‘He knows his way around the Spawn. He could direct us.’

‘Almost all of what he told us was lies,’ Malakai said, dismissive.

‘How do you know?’

‘His story’s full of holes. How did he get away from the attacks he described? I wager he betrayed his comrades. Sold them out to save his skin.’

‘You don’t know that,’ said Orchid, outraged. ‘You weren’t there. Why assume that?’

‘Because of his other lies.’

‘What do you mean his other lies?’ she demanded, her voice getting even louder. ‘Stop making empty accusations. Either you know or you don’t.’

‘Leave it be,’ Antsy murmured. ‘I agree with him.’

‘No! I will not be shut up by this man’s airs and knowing hints.’

‘Very well,’ Malakai answered, sounding grimly pleased. ‘These poor starving men and women you seem to feel such sympathy for. These scrapings of the would-be treasure-hunters who came scrambling for easy riches. They can’t buy food and water from any Confederation boats. They’ve nothing left to sell. They didn’t even have the weapons left to stab our two friends. Now, there’s only one thing left down here to eat – which is why they attacked us in the first place, and why they didn’t pursue us afterwards. We killed or badly wounded a number of them, and – for the time being at least – they have enough to eat.’

Orchid’s breath caught in the dark. ‘No,’ she said, her voice strangled. ‘I don’t believe you.’

Malakai didn’t answer; he didn’t need to.

Antsy remembered those snarling rat-like faces, the bared teeth, the frenzied glistening eyes, and thought he’d vomit right then. Instead, he took a bracing deep breath of the sea-tinged air. ‘So this is not the way?’ he asked, dizzy.

‘
The
way?’ Malakai answered. ‘It’s
a
way – at least that. And that’s what I want. We’ll reconnoitre after a rest.’

Antsy grunted his agreement and he and Corien continued shambling up the hall.

They took turns keeping watch, or in Antsy’s case listening very hard indeed. And the titanic fragment of Moon’s Spawn spoke to him. A saboteur, he understood the deep groans that came shuddering up through the stone beneath his thighs and hands. The sharp distant poppings of snaps and cracks. He’d spent a lot of time underground. It reminded him of something … something from his youth. But for the life of him he couldn’t quite place it just then.

Even Malakai stayed with them to lie down and to stand a watch. It seemed he wasn’t the sort to pretend he needed less sleep than anyone else.

In the ‘morning’, when Malakai woke everyone, Orchid came to Antsy and set a hand on his arm to crouch down next to him. ‘Corien’s getting worse,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve done everything I can, but that weapon, whatever it was, must’ve been filthy.’

‘How bad—’

‘I can still walk,’ Corien interrupted loudly. ‘The quiet and dark, you know. Sharpens the hearing.’

‘You’ll have to walk on your own,’ Malakai said flatly.

‘Your concern is a soothing balm,’ the youth replied.

Antsy smiled in the dark: he would’ve just told Malakai to go fuck himself.

‘Red, you lead then,’ Malakai said, ignoring the sarcasm. ‘Corien … walk with Orchid.’

‘And you?’ Orchid demanded. ‘Wandering off gods know where? You should stay with us in case there’s trouble.’

‘If there’s trouble I’ll be more use as a hidden asset.’

Orchid just snorted at that. Antsy imagined her throwing up her hands in the dark.

As they readied, Antsy asked Orchid over and held out his pannier. ‘You’re sure?’ she said, surprised.

‘Yeah – no use in a fight. An’ I’ll need both hands. Corien? The use of your sword perhaps?’

‘Yes, Red.’ There came the unmistakable sound of polished iron brushing wood as the blade cleared the mouth of the sheath. ‘Orchid?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Fumblings as Corien handed Orchid the weapon. ‘Ach!’

‘What?’ from both Antsy and Corien.

‘Cut my hand on the edge.’

‘Don’t hold it by the blade!’ Corien exclaimed. ‘Both edges are razor sharp.’

‘So I see,’ she answered, scathing. ‘Here.’

The grip was pressed to Antsy, who took it and readied his own sword in his left hand. ‘Okay. Which way?’

‘To the right.’

Antsy edged to the right. He held the blades before him, off slightly to each side. Occasionally a tip grated against a wall and he would adjust his direction. Behind, Corien grunted his effort. His boots slid heavily over the smooth stone floor and every breath was tight with pain. Antsy knew Orchid was doing her best to help him along.

After a time turning corners and crossing large chambers – meeting places, or assemblies, Orchid thought them – she sent them climbing up against the Spawn’s slant to what she said was a large building front across a broad open court. ‘Do you even know where you’re going?’ Antsy finally complained.

‘Malakai is there, waiting,’ she said; then, rather impatiently, ‘I’ve been keeping us to the main ways, you know!’

Antsy now said aloud what had been bothering him for some time: ‘Then where
is
everyone? The place is deserted! Where’re these Malazans? Where’s
anyone
?’

‘How in the name of—’ She stopped herself. ‘How should I know?’

Antsy just grumbled. Again it seemed the constant straining to see in the utter dark was giving him hallucinations. Lights blossomed before his eyes. Shapes of deepest blue seemed to waver in his vision like ghosts. He silently fumed against it all.
What a fool I was for throwing myself into this. A bad start before a worse end! I’m gonna die in the dark like a blasted worm
.