Karsa grinned. ‘Why, a civilized one.’
‘Indeed!’ Shadowthrone turned to Cotillion. ‘And you doubted this one!’
Cotillion grimaced. ‘I stand corrected, Shadowthrone. If the Crippled God has not yet learned his lesson with this warrior, more lessons are bound to follow. We can leave him to them. And leave this Toblakai, too.’
‘Barring one detail,’ Shadowthrone said in a rasp. ‘Toblakai, heed this warning, if you value that destiny you would seek for yourself. Do not stand in Traveller’s path. Ever.’
Karsa’s grin broadened. ‘We are agreed, he and I.’
‘You are?’
‘I will not stand in his path, and he will not stand in mine.’
Shadowthrone and Cotillion were silent then, considering.
Leaning back, Karsa collected the lone rein. Havok lifted his head, nostrils flar-ing. I killed two Deragoth,’ Karsa said.
‘We know,’ said Cotillion.
‘Their arrogance was their soft underbelly. Easy to reach. Easy to plunge in my hands. I killed them because they thought me weak.’
Cotillion’s expression grew mocking. ‘Speaking of arrogance…’
I was speaking,’ said Karsa as he swung Havok round, ‘of lessons.’ Then he twisted in the saddle. ‘You laugh at those coming to the Crippled God. Perhaps one day I will laugh at those coming to you.’
Cotillion and Shadowthrone, with the Hounds gathering close, watched the To-blakai ride away on his Jhag horse.
A thump of the cane. ‘Did you sense the ones in his sword?’
Cotillion nodded.
‘They were…’ Shadowthrone seemed to struggle with the next word, ‘… proud.’
And again, Cotillion could do little more than nod.
Abruptly, Shadowthrone giggled, the sound making the two new Hounds flinch-a detail he seemed not to notice. ‘Oh,’ he crooned, ‘all those poor clerks!’
‘Is that a cloud on the horizon?’
At Reccanto Ilk’s query, Mappo glanced up and followed the man’s squinting gaze. He rose suddenly. ‘That’s more than a cloud,’ he said.
Sweetest Sufferance, sitting nearby, grunted and wheezed herself upright, brushing sand from her ample behind. ‘Master Qu-ellll!’ she sang.
Mappo watched as the crew started scrabbling, checking the leather straps and fastening rings and clasps dangling from the carrieage. The horses shifted about, sud-denly restless, eyes rolling and ears flattening. Gruntle came up to stand beside the Troll. “That’s one ugly storm,’ he said, ‘and it looks to be bearing down right on us,’
‘These people baffle me,’ Mappo admitted. ‘We are about to get obliterated, and they look… excited.’
‘They are mad, Mappo.’ He eyed the Trell for a long moment, then said, ‘You must be desperate to have hired this mob.’
‘Why is it,’ Mappo asked, ‘that Master Quell seemed indifferent to unleashing an undead dragon into this world?’
‘Well, hardly indifferent. He said oops! At least, I think that’s what I heard, but perhaps that was but my imagination. This Trygalle Guild… these carriages, they must be dragging things across realms all the time Look at yon walking corpse.’
They did so, observing in silence as the desiccated figure, holding a collection of cast-off straps and rope, stood speculatively eyeing one of the carriage’s spoked wheels.
The wind freshened suddenly, cooler, strangely charged.
One of the horses shrilled and began stamping the sand. After a moment the others caught the same feverish anxiety. The carriage rocked, edged forward. Mauler Quell was helping Precious Thimble through the door, hastening things at the end with a hard shove to her backside. He then looked round, eyes slightly wild, until he spied Mappo.
‘Inside you go, good sir! We’re about to leave!’
‘Not a moment too soon,’ Gruntle said.
Mappo set out for the carriage, then paused and turned to Gruntle. ‘Please, be careful.’
‘I will, as soon as I figure out what’s about to happen. Quell! What warren are we using now? And hadn’t you better get the way through opened?’
Quell stared at him. ‘Get on the damned carriage!’
‘Fine, but tell me-’
‘You idiot!’ shouted Faint from where she sat on the roof. ‘Don’t you get it?’ And she jabbed a finger at the churning black cloud now almost towering over them. ‘That’s our ride!’
‘But-wait-how-’
