The Spook 9 - Slither's tale (17 page)

‘Then you must tell me exactly what it contains.’

‘It would be better for you to remain in ignorance, but I can see into your head, mage, and I know that curiosity is your greatest flaw. It was that trait I used within my spell of compulsion to draw you here. If I keep silent, you will meddle anyway. The sack contains the head of the Fiend, the most powerful of all the entities who dwell within the dark.’

Her words puzzled me. I had never heard of anything called the ‘Fiend’. Nor did I understand what she meant by the ‘dark’. Beyond this world there were domains of the spirits such as Askana, the dwelling place of our gods – but as for Kobalos and human souls, where they went after death was unknown to us. They went up or down, and none returned to tell of their experience – though most suspected it was better to go up than down.

‘What is the “dark”?’ I asked.

‘It is the abode of daemons and gods – and of their servants after death. It is the place we witches return to.’

‘Is the head of a god in the sack?’ I asked.

‘Yes, he could be described as a god. There are many Old Gods and, intact, he is more powerful than all the others combined. The rest of his body is bound far away so the head
must
remain separate – lest his servants succeed in resurrecting him. His vengeance would be terrible.’

‘I know nothing of your gods,’ I told the purra. ‘We have many. My personal favourite is Cougis, the dog-headed god, but many of my people worship Olkie, the god of Kobalos blacksmiths, who has four iron arms and teeth made of brass. However, the greatest of our gods is called Talkus, which means the God Who Is Yet to Be. He is not yet born but we all eagerly await his arrival.’

The purra called Grimalkin smiled at me, showing her pointed teeth. ‘Your people have your truths and my people have ours. We are very different in our beliefs,’ she told me. ‘I will respect your faith and, in return, I ask that you respect mine. The head in the sack
must
be returned to me. That is the most important thing of all. But whatever you do, leave it within the sack. It would be extremely dangerous to remove it. If you wish to survive, you will need to curb your curiosity.’

‘First I must locate it,’ I said, then pointed at the twitching rat. ‘Release him from your magic so that he can find the sack and the other items that you require.’

The purra nodded, and Hom suddenly stopped quivering and rolled over onto his little ratty feet, his whiskers twitching. I quickly gave him instructions: ‘I need the precise location of a number of objects taken from this purra by the Oussa,’ I told him. ‘The most important of these is a large leather sack. Secondly, find the star-stone. Additionally, there are a number of weapons,
and
the straps and sheaths that contain them. Report back immediately following the completion of your task!’

He turned, and with an angry flick of his thin tail he left the dungeon.

‘How long is it likely to take?’ the purra asked.

‘Far less time than it will take to obtain what you have asked for. But he will not return here – although he has acute hearing and sharp vision, in that form he lacks the means to speak. So now I must leave and return to my quarters to hear his report from a self that can.’

‘Before you go, let us make the terms of the trade clear,’ the purra said.

I stared at her in astonishment.

‘I know all about the importance of trade to your people,’ she continued. ‘If you do your utmost to return to me my stolen possessions and enable me to free myself, in return I will help you to slay the Haggenbrood. What is more, once we leave this place I will do nothing to hinder what you consider to be your lawful business. Is it a trade?’

‘I need time to reflect upon that. I will consider the possibility.’

‘There is little time! Before you go, ease the noose around my neck. Do it now!’

I shook my head. ‘No, I cannot do that yet. First I will try to get the items that were taken from you. If I achieve that, I will return and do as you ask.’

I did not yet trust the purra. I needed to consider the
situation
more carefully. And, as I told her, I wanted to see if I could retrieve her possessions and thus fulfil my part of the trade.

The brow of the purra furrowed with anger but, without another word, I made myself very small and slithered out under the door.

I RETURNED TO
my quarters as swiftly as possible and waited there for Hom to make his report. Suddenly I felt very uncertain. The proposal made by the purra with pointed teeth had seemed reasonable at the time but now, away from her, I felt foolish.

How could I have allowed myself to negotiate with a mere female like that? Was it skaiium? The same thing had occurred when I’d talked to Nessa and she had pressed her forehead against mine. I had been influenced unduly, and had then recklessly attempted the rescue of the youngest sister, killing a High Mage and a Shaiksa assassin in the process and bringing
me
to my present situation. Now it was happening again with this strange purra.

Or perhaps she was using some sort of magic to control my thoughts and actions? After all, I knew nothing of this witch and her magic; my usual defences might not be effective.

I took a deep breath and began to focus on the problem, putting aside my fears and attempting to assess the situation logically. There was no doubt that the human witch could create a magical illusion strong enough to pass herself off as Nessa. I had been prepared to release the girl to distract the Haggenbrood momentarily – so why not do the same with this purra? She was the assassin of a witch clan, and to slay four of the Oussa demonstrated that she was a formidable warrior.

I also knew that I could enter her dungeon again undetected, and loosen the noose about her neck – that was all she had asked. I did not understand how she could then escape and reach my quarters in order to accompany me into the arena, but that was her problem. If she failed to do so, I would simply take the three sisters and keep to my original plan.

The homunculus came out of his hole and clambered up onto the chair again.

‘Make your report!’ I commanded.

‘The weapons and the star-stone are in the Plunder Room of the Triumvirate,’ Hom announced.

The Plunder Room was accurately named – that was where I had expected the items to have been placed. It was effectively the treasury of the Triumvirate, the place where confiscated
goods
of special interest or value were stored. It was well-guarded; too well-guarded – virtually impregnable. It would be impossible for me to retrieve the first two items required by the human witch.

‘Did you find the location of the leather sack?’ I asked.

‘It was disposed of – thrown down one of the rubbish chutes.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked. How could something considered to be so important by the pointy-toothed purra have been discarded as worthless? I wondered.

‘Yes, the sack was opened and found to contain a severed head in such an advanced state of decomposition that it was dumped very quickly.’

‘Give me the location of the chute!’ I demanded. No doubt the rotting head it contained was an exceedingly loathsome, stinking abomination, but the purra considered it to be the most important of her possessions. Once I explained the impossibility of getting hold of the rest, it might be enough to satisfy her. Retrieving it should not prove difficult.

‘District Boktar North, Level Thirteen, chute 179,’ Hom replied.

‘I will go there immediately. Have one of your selves meet me there and take me directly to the sack.’

It did not take me long to reach chute 179, which was working at full capacity. From above, it had the appearance of a huge concave half-cylinder with an oval hole at its centre. From the pipes overhanging it, all types of refuse were being disgorged into the gaping mouth of the stinking chute: mostly bones, slime, offal and excrement.

The white skoya was covered in yellow-brown slime with clots of green, and I was glad that I did not have to climb down into the chute itself: there was a system of ladders provided for the maintenance workers. Their job, in addition to attending to the pipes and keeping the flow fast and free, was to descend into the area directly beneath the chute and use spades and carts to spread out the refuse. Otherwise the growing mound beneath would eventually block the flow.

I negotiated the series of ladders. Looking down, I could see just one solitary Kobalos pushing a laden cart as he walked away from the flow from the chute. The presence of a haizda mage down here might be reported so I didn’t want to be noticed. There might be up to a dozen Kobalos employed at each chute, but each had to move his load some distance away: if I was lucky, no one would see me. Thus I decided to conserve my magic and dispense with the cloaking spell.

Hom was waiting obediently at the foot of the ladder, his thin rat-tail twitching energetically. Without waiting to be told, he immediately scampered away and I followed, trudging through the muck and getting my boots dirty. It wasn’t long before we reached our objective. Finding it was easy; the problem was that someone had got there first. There were two figures in the distance, and one was holding the sack. They were engaged in conversation, and at first they did not notice my approach.

But when I was within about twenty paces of them, the one with the sack spun round to face me.

To my astonishment, I saw that it was a purra, but not one from Valkarky – she was a stranger. Unlike the one with pointed teeth, she wore a skirt that came down to her ankles, with a dirty fox-fur jacket buttoned at the neck. She was barefoot, with slime squelching up between her toes, and her face was twisted with hatred.

I wondered if they were accomplices of Grimalkin – other human witches. If so, might they have similar magical powers and fighting abilities?

‘Drop the sack and go!’ I commanded. ‘You have no business in our city, but you may keep your lives.’

The other purra was some distance behind the first and I couldn’t see her clearly, but I heard her cackle with laughter at my words.

The nearer purra threw the sack to one side, drew a knife and began to stride towards me, a purposeful expression on her face. She began to mutter under her breath, and I realized that she was indeed a human witch and was trying to use magic against me. Within seconds her appearance changed dramatically. Her tongue protruded about an arm’s length from her mouth; it was forked like that of a snake. Next her face twisted into something bestial: large fangs grew down over her bottom lip, almost reaching her chin, and her hair became a nest of writhing snakes.

I was not sure what the purpose of the transformation was. Perhaps it was intended to distract me in some way. There was no doubt in my mind that the witch had become marginally
uglier
than before, but it did not affect my concentration in the slightest.

I stepped backwards, focused my mind, and before the knife came within range of my body, I drew my sabre and struck her head clean from her shoulders. She collapsed in a heap, blood spurting from the stump of her neck. I kicked the head away and prepared to face the second witch.

This one approached me slowly. She was cackling again as if she found the whole business highly amusing. ‘I can keep my life, can I?’ she crowed. ‘And what life would that be?’

For a moment I did not understand her meaning, but she was closer now, less than ten paces away, and I could smell loam, rot and dead flesh. The matted hair was crusted with dried mud and I could see maggots wriggling within it. Then something writhed and slowly emerged from her left ear. It was a fat, grey earthworm.

I focused my hearing on her and concentrated. She was wheezing slightly but not breathing in any natural way, and there was no heartbeat. It could mean only one thing.

She was correct: she had no life. She was already dead.

She attacked, running directly towards me, hands outstretched, claws ready to rend my flesh.

I am fast but the dead witch was faster. Her sudden attack took me by surprise, and the claws of her right hand missed my eye by a whisker.

Her left hand didn’t miss, though. It clamped hard upon my
own
left wrist. I tried to pull it free but the grip tightened. Never had I encountered such strength. I punched her in the face with my free hand but she didn’t even flinch. Her fingers were like a tightening metal band cutting through flesh to squeeze the bone. My numbed hand released the sabre and it fell into the slime.