‘But I have to! He needs my help!’
Bugg rose. ‘I think I’ll walk the grounds.’
‘Don’t. It’s too dangerous.’
‘I’ll be all right, lass. No need to worry about Grandfather Bugg. And then I’ll come back here, and you and I will head to the Downs Market.’
She looked up then, regarded him with red-rimmed eyes that looked far older than the rest of her face. ‘I have no money.’
‘Me neither,’ Bugg said, smiling. ‘But a lot of people owe me.’
He headed into the grounds. The earth was hot beneath his worn sandals. Most of the insects had died or moulted, their bodies crunching underfoot. Withered roots had been pushed to the surface, split and peeling. Stained fragments of bone were visible, pieces of skull and fractured long-bones, the occasional oversized vertebra. The crumpled remains of barrows were on all sides.
So much history had been lost, destroyed beneath this steaming earth. A good thing, too, since most of it was unpleasant. Unfortunately, a few hoary nightmares remained. The meanest of the lot, in fact.
And one of them had sworn to help. Against the others.
All in all, Bugg decided, not a promising situation.
‘A stranger among us.’
He halted, frowning. ‘Who speaks?’
‘My brothers welcome you. I welcome you. Come closer. Hold out your hand, draw us forth. Your rewards will be endless.’
‘So will my regret. No, I’m afraid I cannot oblige you, Toblakai.’
‘ You have taken one step too many, stranger. It is too late. You we shall use -’
A surge of power, rushing into Bugg’s mind, seeking domination – then gone.
‘ No. Not you. Come no closer .’
‘I am sorry you found me so unpalatable.’
‘ Go away .’
‘You and your brothers are in for a fight,’ Bugg said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘ We cannot be defeated .’
‘Oh, how often those words are spoken. How many of your fellow Prisoners said much the same, at one time or another? Always the conceit of the moment.’
‘Hone of this is your concern.’
‘You are right, none of it is. But you should be warned, the child, Kettle, is not to be harmed.’
‘She is nothing to us.’
‘Good. Make sure it stays that way.’
‘Be careful with your threats, stranger.’
‘Ah. You don’t understand, do you? Attack the child, and the one hiding within her will awaken. And that one will annihilate you, and probably everyone else just for good measure.’
‘Who is it that hides within the child?’
‘Its name? I don’t know. But it is Forkrul Assail.’
‘You are lying.’
The manservant shrugged, swung about and made his way back to where Kettle waited. There was time still, he decided, to go shopping.
King Ezgara Diskanar sat on his throne, motionless, pale as dusted marble, the lids of his eyes half lowered as he regarded First Eunuch Nifadas. The scene belonged to an artist, Brys decided. Heavy with gravitas, the colours dark and saturated, a great fall imminent. All here, in this frozen moment. The Eve before the Seventh Closure , the painter might call it, with quiet pleasure at the multitude of meanings hidden in the title.
But there was no artist, no vulture to sit on the wings of civilization’s tottering construct, red-eyed and clucking. The audience consisted of Brys, First Concubine Nisall, Preda Unnutal Hebaz and four of the King’s Guard.
The sun had dropped low enough outside to send shafts of lurid light through the stained glass panels set in the dome, brushing the motes with ugly hues. The air smelled of sweat and lantern smoke.
‘And this,’ King Ezgara finally said, ‘is what awaits my people.’
The First Eunuch’s small eyes blinked. ‘Sire, the soldiers do not welcome the notion of new overlords. They will fight to defend you.’
‘I have seen scant evidence of that thus far, Nifadas.’
The Preda spoke to that. ‘Sire, it quickly became evident that we could not match the enemy in the traditional manner, given the sorcery available to them. It was tactically incumbent that we withdraw, avoiding engagement-’
‘But now our backs are to the city’s wall, Preda.’
‘With time to prepare, as we have been doing since the first unit arrived at Brans Keep. Sire, we have never before fielded such a large army as that which is assembling there right now. Over two thousand trebuchets, fifteen hundred mangonels and three hundred triple-mounted Dresh ballistae. We have dug pits, trenches, traps. The mages have woven rituals across the entire battlefield. Our auxiliaries alone number over ten thousand-’