get in another word, a dim rumbling shook the air and then built to a grinding roar. The lamp went out, drowning the tavern in darkness as the ground beneath him dipped. The shelves behind the bar crashed down, shattering winejars and mugs. He no longer knew where to find the door; all he could think of was the ceiling over his head, which he felt sure was about to crack and tumble down on them.
‘Jachi!’ he heard Meiran cry out, and a moment later he felt her hands on his arms, shoving him. The tepid glow of her skin made him remember himself. He rubbed his fingers together and a little point of flame danced above his hand. They had nearly reached the door when it all stopped.
Meiran let his arm go.
‘Is it over?’ he asked raggedly as a soft cloud of chalky dirt drifted down and settled on his hair and shoulders.
‘I don’t know.’ Her silver-green eye gleamed at him.
‘Come on.’ His voice was unsteady. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
But she walked back towards the bar, found the lamp and the flints and lit the wick again. He checked the ceiling above him nervously, relieved to see that it looked solid enough, then crossed behind the bar and sifted through the wreckage until he found an unbroken jar of wine. He tore off the wax seal with his teeth and spat it into the dirt. ‘We have a deal,’ he repeated her words with a sigh. ‘Then I suppose I’m done here.’
‘Not yet. I need you to deliver a message.’
‘What message?’
‘You need to go after Faroth. He’s not going to be at the mines – he’s going to get his long-lost sister back.’
‘Really?’ he asked wryly. ‘That’s nice for him. And what about you?’
She walked over to the dead Norlanders and picked up the bloody sword lying next to them, then aimed the point at the two corpses. ‘I need their heads.’
Jachad took a long, deep drink, and said, ‘Of course you do.’
Chapter Nine
Harotha shuddered, her spine tingling. Her back ached terribly after the long walk from Saria’s house, and her ankles were so swollen that she could feel them throbbing. Waiting up ahead of them was a derelict building, mottled with dark patches where the whitewash had flaked away from the red clay bricks. The doorway was a black maw, stretching wide to swallow her up. This was the abandoned house where she had lived, alone except for Saria’s infrequent visits, for the last five months: five months shut up in the dark, of no more use to anyone than if she really had been buried in the Dead Ones’ tombs.
‘I can’t,’ she said faintly. ‘I’m not going back in there.’
Saria stopped too. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no other place for you to go.’ She looked away and with a soft, frustrated sigh she added, ‘You should have gone away with him, Harotha, like he wanted. You should never have come back here.’
The two women were completely alone. The neighbourhood around them had been abandoned long ago, the houses left to crumble where they stood. The Shadari population had been shrinking steadily since the coming of the Dead Ones,and the remaining families now huddled together in the centre of the city, like a litter of abandoned pups. The Dead Ones didn’t even bother patrolling here. The chalky-red face of Mount Asharamon, flanked on either side by the smaller peaks of Esramon and Sharamon, rose up in the near distance. Occasionally they could hear the tuneless tinkle of a goat-bell drifting down from the scrubby slopes of its low summit.
‘I still don’t understand how you could have let it happen, that’s all,’ Saria grumbled.
She looked into the dark doorway. ‘I didn’t think it mattered what I did. I’d been
so sure
I could convince Shairav to use his magic, at least to open up the ashas’ secret passage so we could coordinate a rebellion between the city and the temple, but nothing I said made any difference to him. Even getting Daryan on my side didn’t help. After that, I didn’t think I’d ever come
‘Jachi!’ he heard Meiran cry out, and a moment later he felt her hands on his arms, shoving him. The tepid glow of her skin made him remember himself. He rubbed his fingers together and a little point of flame danced above his hand. They had nearly reached the door when it all stopped.
Meiran let his arm go.
‘Is it over?’ he asked raggedly as a soft cloud of chalky dirt drifted down and settled on his hair and shoulders.
‘I don’t know.’ Her silver-green eye gleamed at him.
‘Come on.’ His voice was unsteady. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
But she walked back towards the bar, found the lamp and the flints and lit the wick again. He checked the ceiling above him nervously, relieved to see that it looked solid enough, then crossed behind the bar and sifted through the wreckage until he found an unbroken jar of wine. He tore off the wax seal with his teeth and spat it into the dirt. ‘We have a deal,’ he repeated her words with a sigh. ‘Then I suppose I’m done here.’
‘Not yet. I need you to deliver a message.’
‘What message?’
‘You need to go after Faroth. He’s not going to be at the mines – he’s going to get his long-lost sister back.’
‘Really?’ he asked wryly. ‘That’s nice for him. And what about you?’
She walked over to the dead Norlanders and picked up the bloody sword lying next to them, then aimed the point at the two corpses. ‘I need their heads.’
Jachad took a long, deep drink, and said, ‘Of course you do.’
Chapter Nine
Harotha shuddered, her spine tingling. Her back ached terribly after the long walk from Saria’s house, and her ankles were so swollen that she could feel them throbbing. Waiting up ahead of them was a derelict building, mottled with dark patches where the whitewash had flaked away from the red clay bricks. The doorway was a black maw, stretching wide to swallow her up. This was the abandoned house where she had lived, alone except for Saria’s infrequent visits, for the last five months: five months shut up in the dark, of no more use to anyone than if she really had been buried in the Dead Ones’ tombs.
‘I can’t,’ she said faintly. ‘I’m not going back in there.’
Saria stopped too. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no other place for you to go.’ She looked away and with a soft, frustrated sigh she added, ‘You should have gone away with him, Harotha, like he wanted. You should never have come back here.’
The two women were completely alone. The neighbourhood around them had been abandoned long ago, the houses left to crumble where they stood. The Shadari population had been shrinking steadily since the coming of the Dead Ones,and the remaining families now huddled together in the centre of the city, like a litter of abandoned pups. The Dead Ones didn’t even bother patrolling here. The chalky-red face of Mount Asharamon, flanked on either side by the smaller peaks of Esramon and Sharamon, rose up in the near distance. Occasionally they could hear the tuneless tinkle of a goat-bell drifting down from the scrubby slopes of its low summit.
‘I still don’t understand how you could have let it happen, that’s all,’ Saria grumbled.
She looked into the dark doorway. ‘I didn’t think it mattered what I did. I’d been
so sure
I could convince Shairav to use his magic, at least to open up the ashas’ secret passage so we could coordinate a rebellion between the city and the temple, but nothing I said made any difference to him. Even getting Daryan on my side didn’t help. After that, I didn’t think I’d ever come
Similar Books
