Текст книги "Black Halo"

Автор книги: Sam Sykes

Соавторы: Sam Sykes
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 41 страниц)

Bralston, however, was not prepared for the sight of him in the yellow, pitiless light.

‘Is your aim to inflict suffering, sir?’ A pair of hands, three fingers between them, splayed their fleshy stumps, hoisting up a great, tattooed bulk. ‘I lament your lateness, my friend. Lamentit.’ He levelled a single eye at Bralston as the other one, a colourless mass surrounded by tiny lines of scar tissue, stared off into nothingness. ‘You see, kind sir …’

His smile was all the broader for the flesh that had been neatly sliced from the left side of his lip, baring dry, grey gum beneath a mass of scab. His grey hair was matted all the more from the dried crimson where his left ear had once been. His face all the more akin to a slab of flesh and sinew for the two gaping punctures where he had once bore a nose.

‘I’ve nothing left to feel it with.’

Bralston’s veneer of indifference cracked; he did not notice, did not care that the shock was plain on his face, the horror clear in his eyes. Rashodd’s black humour dropped, as though he were suddenly aware of the great joke and no longer found it funny. He shuffled backwards, back into the gloom, but Bralston’s mouth remained agape, his voice remained a whisper.

‘You …’ he said softly. ‘Someone … spitedyou?’

‘You’ve seen this before,’ Rashodd replied, gesturing to his face. ‘I somehow thought you might. You are … a Djaalman, yes?’

‘That’s … yes …’ Bralston said, struggling in vain to find his composure again. ‘During the riots, the Jackals … they spited people, spited everyone they could. There were …’ His eyes widened. ‘When did you meet a Jackal? Are they active outside of Cier’Djaal?’

‘Enough questions from your end, sir,’ Rashodd said, and Bralston did not challenge him. ‘You are an observant Djaalman, yes? Touched your eye in reverence for the Houndmistress. Lady most admirable, she was … culled the Jackals, restored the common man’s faith in the city.’

‘Until she was murdered,’ Bralston said. ‘Her husband and child likely dead, too.’

‘Likely?’

‘They disappeared.’

‘Disappeared, sir? Or fled?’

‘What do you mean?’ Bralston’s eyes flared to crimson light. ‘What do you know?’ He stepped forward brashly at Rashodd’s silence, scowl burning without care. ‘Her murder started the riots, killed over a thousandpeople. What do you know?’

‘Only what I’ve read, sir,’ Rashodd said, ‘only what I’ve seen, sir.’ His vigour left him with every whispered word. ‘I have heard rumours, descriptions … her husband …’

‘A Sainite,’ Bralston replied. ‘I met him, when the Houndmistress formalised relations with the Karnerians. Tall man, red hair, dark eyes.’ He stared intently at the Cragsman. ‘You … have you seen him?’

‘Seen him …’ Rashodd repeated. ‘Yes. I saw him …’

He ran a ruined hand over a ruined face.

‘And I didn’t scream.’

Before the Librarian had even set foot upon the docks, Argaol could sense the man’s presence. An invisible tremor swept across the modest harbour of Port Yonder, sending tiny ripples across the water, dock cats fleeing and the various sailors and fishermen cringing as though struck.

They parted before the wizard like a tide of tanned flesh, none eager to get in his way as he moved toward the captain with rigid, deliberate movements and locked a cold, relentless gaze upon him.

‘What happened?’ Argaol asked, questioning the wisdom of such an action.

‘Many things,’ Bralston replied. ‘Ktamgi. How far is it?’

‘What?’

‘I am unfamiliar with the lay of this area. Enlighten me.’

‘You’re looking for the adventurers?’ Argaol shook his head. ‘They went that way, but if they survived, they’d be at Teji by now.’

‘And how far from Ktamgi is that?’

‘A day’s travel by ship,’ Argaol said. ‘My crew is already in the city, but I can have the Riptideup and ready to go by then if you need-’

‘I do,’ Bralston said. He purposefully shoved the man aside as he strode to the end of the docks. ‘But I don’t have that long.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Leaving.’

‘What? Why? What happened?’

‘That information is the concern of the Venarium alone.’

‘And what am I supposed to tell the Lord Emissary?’ Argaol demanded hotly. ‘He instructed me to help you!’

‘And you have. Whatever you do next is the concern of anyone butthe Venarium.’ He adjusted his broad-brimmed hat upon his head, pulled his cloak a little tighter about his body. He glanced at Argaol briefly. ‘Captain.’

Before Argaol could even ask, the wizard’s coat twitched, the air ripped apart as its leather twisted in the blink of an eye. A pair of great, birdlike wings spread out behind Bralston, sending Argaol tumbling to the dock, and he left with as little fanfare as a man with a winged coat could manage, leaping off the edge and taking flight, soaring high over the harbour before any sailor or fisherman could even think to curse.

Something was happening outside, Rashodd could tell. People were excited, shouting, pointing at the sky. He could not see beyond the thick walls of his cell. He could not hear above the nearby roar of the ocean slamming against the cliffs below. But he knew all the same, because he knew the wizard would act.

‘Just as you said he would …’ he whispered to the darkness.

‘ Those without faith are convinced of their righteousness,’ a pair of voices whispered back from a place far below. ‘ Faith is purpose. To admit a lack of purpose is to admit that they possess no place in this world. Understand this and the faithless become beasts to be trained and commanded.’

‘It is with a fond lamentation that I make audible that which stirs in my mind,’ Rashodd sighed, ‘but speaking as a man with only time and darkness to his name, I cannot help but wonder if you’re capable of making a point without a religious speech to accompany.’

‘ The point lay in the speech,’ the voices replied. ‘ You are no beast, Rashodd. Not a beast, but a prisoner, and not much longer.’

‘So you say,’ Rashodd growled. ‘Of course, and it is with no undue distaste that I point this out, I am only a prisoner because you failed to live up to your end of our prior bargain.’

‘ Lamentable,’ the voices said. ‘ But your presence here serves our purpose further. You shall be free.’

‘The door is scarcely more than sticks bound with twine,’ Rashodd replied. ‘I can be free as soon as I wish to strangle the boy outside. I remain only on your promises.’ His voice became a throaty snarl. ‘In days of darkness, though, I must confess I find them less than illuminating.’

‘ And yet, your faith compels you to stay.’

‘For a time longer.’

‘ We find our own faith in the Mouth falters. The praises we heap upon him are no longer enough to compel his service. He wavers. He wanes.’

‘And you wish my service,’ Rashodd whispered. ‘You wish me to free this … Daga-Mer.’

‘ For Mother Deep to find her way, the Father must also find his.’

‘And if I do …’

‘ We grant you what you wish.’

Rashodd’s thick fingers, what remained of them, ran across his face. No matter how many times he did it, no matter how many times he knew they wouldn’t be there, he continued to anticipate pieces of himself still in their proper place: a nose, an eye, part of his lip. And no matter how many times his fingers caressed jagged rents where those parts were missing, his rage continued to grow.

‘My face …’ he whispered.

‘ We can return it.’

‘My fingers …’

‘ We can bring them back.’

He stared down at his hand. He could still feel the kiss of steel, the dagger’s tongue that had taken his digits. He could still see the hand that had held it. He could hear the voice that had told him not to scream. He could remember the tall man, the felon clad in black with the tears in his eyes.

‘My revenge …’ he whispered hoarsely.

With a melodic laughter, the Deepshriek replied.

‘ It will be yours.’

Twenty-Four

NAMING THE SIN

The water is cold today.

Lenk let that thought linger as he let his hand linger in the rush of the stream. Between the clear surface and the bed of yellow pebbles below, he could see the legged eels, their vast and vacant eyes staring out from either side of their gaping mouths as stubby, pinlike legs clung to rocks and streamweeds to resist the current.

He mimicked their expression, staring blankly into the water as he waited for a reply to bubble up inside his mind. He did not wait long.

‘ Mm.’

The Steadbrook was never this cold.

‘ You remember that?’

It was what the village was named for. It powered the mill that ground the grain. It was the heart of the village. My grandfather told me.

‘ Memories are returning. This is good.’

Is it?

‘ Should it not be?’

You never seemed concerned with that before.

‘ You never spoke back before.’

Do you suppose there’ll be more?

‘ More what?’

Memories.

He waited, listening patiently for an answer. All that responded was the stream, burbling aimlessly over the rocks. He furrowed his brow and frowned.

Are you still there?

The sun felt warm on his brow, uncomfortably so. Someone, somewhere else, muttered something.

‘ Memories,’ it replied with a sudden chill, ‘ are a reminder of what was never meant to be.’

He blinked. Behind his eyes, shadows danced amidst flames in a wild, gyrating torture of consumption. Against a pale and pitiless moon, a mill’s many limbs turned slowly, raising a burning appendage pleadingly to the sky before lowering it, ignored and dejected. And at its wooden, smouldering base, bodies lay facedown, hands reaching out toward a warm brook.

‘ Remember,’ the voice said with such severity to make Lenk wince, ‘ why we do not need them.’

‘No,’ he whimpered.

‘Well, fine,’ someone said beside him. ‘Refuse if you want, but you don’t have to look so agonised at the suggestion.’

He opened his eyes, glowered at the stream and the quivering reflection of a stubble-caked face staring down at him.

‘If I’m looking pained,’ he said harshly, ‘it’s because you’re talking.’

‘Feel free to leave. I don’t recall inviting you here, anyway.’

Denaos was no longer one singular voice, not so easy to ignore as he had once been. Rather, every noise that emanated from him was now a chorus: complaint followed by a loud slurping sound, an uncouth belch as punctuation and the sound of half a hollowed-out gourd landing in a growing pile of hollowed-out gourd halves to serve as pause between complaints.

He looked down at the young man and grinned, licking up the droplets soaked in his stubbled lip.

‘They can’t figure out the concept of clothing that keeps one’s stones from swaying in the breeze, but they can make some fine liquor.’ He held out the fruit-made-cup to Lenk. ‘You’re sureyou don’t want any?’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what it is,’ Lenk replied, rising up.

‘Drinking irresponsibly is a time-honoured tradition amongst my people.’

‘Humans?’

‘Drunks.’

‘Uh-huh. What’s it called?’

Denaos glanced to his left and cleared his throat. Squatting on stubby legs beside the stream, fishing pole in hand, the Owauku took one eye off of the lure bobbing in the water and rotated it slowly to regard the rogue with as much narrowed ire as one could manage with eyes the size of melons.

‘ Mangwo,’ he grunted, slowly sliding his eye back to the bobber.

‘And … what’s it made of?’ Lenk asked.

‘Well, now …’ Denaos took a swig, swished it about thoughtfully in his mouth. ‘I’d say it’s fermented something, blended with the finest I-don’t-want-to-know and aged for exactly who-gives-a-damn-you-stupid-tit.’ He smacked his lips. ‘Delicious.’

‘I suppose I should be pleased you’re making such good friends with the reptiles,’ Lenk said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Or do they just find your sliminess blends well with their own?’

‘Jhombi and I are getting on quite well, yes,’ the rogue replied as he plucked his own rod and line from the ground and cast it into the stream. ‘Probably because he barely understands a word of the human tongue and thusly isn’t as prone to be a whining silver-haired hamster.’ He grinned to the Owauku. ‘Am I not right, Jhombi?’

Jhombi grunted.

‘Man of few words,’ Denaos said. ‘Speaking of, I trust negotiations with Togu went well?’

Lenk stared blankly for a moment before clearing his throat.

‘Yes.’

‘So he’ll-’

‘ I said yes.’

‘Oh …’ The rogue blinked, taken aback. ‘Well, uh, good.’ He slurped up the rest of his drink and tossed it aside. ‘When do we leave, then?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Delightful.’

‘After the party.’

There was something unwholesome in Denaos’ grin.

Lenk growled. ‘I hate it when your eyes light up like that. It always means someone is about to get stabbed or molested.’

‘And yet, you have now inadvertently invited me to an event that is conducive to both.’ Denaos chuckled, shaking his head. ‘My gratitude will best be expressed in the generous offer that I will save you for last in either endeavour. How’s that sound, Jhombi?’

Jhombi grunted.

‘Jhombi agrees.’

‘How would you know?’

‘How would you?’

‘How is it that he can’t speak the tongue? Every creature on this island does.’ He glowered as a thought occurred to him. ‘Well, except for Hongwe.’

‘Who?’

‘Tall Gonwa, looked irritated and important.’

‘Ah.’ Denaos furrowed his brow. ‘They all look irritated, though. What made this one look important?’

‘Well, he had a satchel.’

‘A satchel, huh? I suppose that does count as sort of a status symbol amongst a people for whom the concept of pants is an incomprehensible technology.’ The rogue glanced at Lenk with worry on his face. ‘You negotiated all our terms, right? We’ve got pants?’

‘We’ve got pants, yes,’ Lenk said, nodding. ‘Kataria said-’

‘Kataria was there?’ Denaos asked, blanching.

‘She was, yeah.’ He glared at the rogue. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

‘Well, was there any trash to root around in? Filth to roll in? Perhaps a bone with a tiny piece of meat on it?’

Lenk’s neck stiffened. ‘I thought we settled this.’

‘Settled what?’

‘You talking about her like that.’

‘We did settle, but on different things. What yousettled with was a willingness to ignore the fact that a woman – called such only in theory, mind you – threatened to killyou.’

‘She saved my life.’

‘I’m not finished.’ The rogue pressed a thumb to his own chest. ‘ Isettled with the idea that I should cease trying to help a man intent on ignoring that this “woman” has fangs and that he wants them near tender areas.’

‘If she was planning on killing me, she would have done it already, wouldn’t she?’

‘So you’re honestly trying to rationalise your attraction to a woman a step above a beast with the excuse that she hasn’t killed you yet.’

‘I am.’

‘And nothing about that seems insane to you?’

‘Like you’ve never threatened to kill someone and not gone through with it.’

‘There’s no time limit on murder oaths.’

‘Point being, things change, don’t they?’ Lenk replied. ‘Oaths are forgotten-’

‘Delayed.’

‘Even so … things change. Things happen.’ Lenk stared at the stream intently, his mind drifting back to so many nights ago. ‘Something … something happened.’

Denaos cast a suspicious glare at the young man. ‘What kindof something?’

Lenk sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s going to sound insane.’

‘Coming from you?’ the rogue gasped. ‘ No. Not the man who’s been spotted, on more than one occasion, talking to himself, yelling at nothing and possibly eating his own filth.’

‘I toldyou, I wasn’t eatingit, I was-’

‘ No!’ Denaos flung a hand up in warding. ‘Stop there, sir, for there is no end to that thought that will not make me want to punch you in the eye.’

‘Just listen-’

‘ No, sir. You’ve given me the excellent news that we are soon to be off and that we’re having a celebration tonight. My life is going exceedingly well right now. I have food, drink, and the comforting company of a surly green man-lizard. Tomorrow, I’m going to start heading back to a world where undergarments are not only invented but encouraged. I tried to talk you out of this deranged bestiality plot you’ve cooked up, and I defy you – defyyou, sir – to say anything to lure me back in.’

In the wake of the outburst, the stream burbled quietly. Neither Denaos nor Jhombi looked up from their lures. A long moment of silence passed as Lenk stared and then, with a gentle clear of his throat and two words, shattered it.

‘Eel tits.’

Denaos blinked twice, cringed once, then swiftly snapped his rod over his knee and sighed deeply.

‘Gods damn it.’ He plucked up one of the empty half-gourds and stalked to a nearby mossy rock, taking a seat. ‘All right … tell me.’

‘Well, it happened days ago, before Kataria found me with the Shen.’

‘Go on.’

‘I was in the forest and I was … hallucinating.’ Lenk stared at the earth, the images returning to his mind. ‘I felt a river cold as ice, I saw demons in trees, I … I …’ He turned a wild, worried stare upon Denaos. ‘I arguedwith a monkey.’

The rogue blinked. ‘Did you win?’

Lenk felt his brow grow heavy, his jaw clench. Something spoke inside his head.

‘ Not important.’

‘Not important,’ he growled. ‘I saw … Katariathere. She said things, tempted me and she peeled off her shirt and … eels.’

‘Eels.’

‘ Eels!’ Lenk shouted. ‘She was there, speaking to me, saying such things, telling me to stop-’

‘Stop what?’

‘It doesn’t matter. The fever was eating at me, cooking my brains in my skull.’

‘Are … you sure?’ Denaos’ face screwed up in confusion as he stared at the young man curiously. ‘I was there when Kataria dragged you in, and I should note that I saw nothing writhing beneath her fur. I was there when Asper looked you over. She said your fever was mild.’

‘ What would she know?’ the voice asked.

‘It was myhead, not hers!’ Lenk snarled, jabbing his temple fiercely. ‘What would Asper know about it?’

‘Considering the years she’s spent to studying the physical condition? Probably quite a bit.’ Denaos tapped his chin. ‘She started screaming and ran us out a moment later, but I remember clearly-’

‘ He knows nothing.’

‘Remember what? How could you know? You and Kat have bothnow said she went mad and drove you out like … like …’

‘ Heathens.’

‘Heathens!’ he spat. ‘How could you know what she knew? What happened after she drove you out? Why did she do it in the first place?’

Denaos remained unmoving, glaring quietly at the young man with the same unpronounced tension in his body that Lenk had seen before, usually moments before someone found something sharp embedded in something soft. The fact that there was scarcely anywhere on the rogue where he could keep a knife hidden was small comfort.

‘That,’ he said, ‘is no business of anyone’s but hers. I believe her word over yours.’

‘ Liar.’

‘A good point,’ Lenk muttered.

‘What is?’

‘Why so defensive over her?’ the young man asked, raising a brow. ‘You’re always the first to suspect, yet you so willingly take her word over mine?’

‘ Shehas the benefit of not being visibly demented,’ Denaos replied.

Lenk wanted to scowl, to snarl, but the pain inside his head was growing unbearable. On wispy shrieks, the voice was agonisingly clear.

‘ Traitors. Liars. Faithless. Ignorant. Unnecessary.’

‘Just ignorant,’ Lenk muttered, shaking his head. ‘Just … just …’

‘Look,’ Denaos said, his tension melting away with his sigh. ‘I’m not sure what kind of message is entailed by displaying the object of your attention with sea life replacing her anatomy, but it can’t be good.’ He leaned back and looked thoughtful. ‘The Gods send visions to speak to the faithful, to reward them, to guide them,’ his eyes narrowed, ‘to warn them.’

‘I didn’t think you were religious.’

‘Silf’s creed is silence and secrecy. It’s probably a mild blasphemy even telling you about this.’

‘So why do it?’

‘Greed, mostly,’ the rogue replied. ‘Averting a man from imminent mutilation of heart, head and probably genitalia seems a deed the Gods would smile upon.’ He glanced at the young man. ‘Tell me, what were you hoping to do once this whole bloody business was over and we stood on the mainland again?’

‘I’d given it some thought,’ Lenk replied, rolling his shoulders. ‘Farming is as good a trade as any. I figured I’d get some land and hold onto it as long as I could. Just a cow, a plough …’

‘And her?’

Lenk frowned without knowing why. ‘Maybe.’

‘Do you remember how she smiles?’

Lenk stared at the ground, a slight grin forming at the corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah, I remember.’

‘Remember her laughter?’

His smile wormed its way to the other side of his face. ‘I do.’

‘You’ve probably seen her truly happy a few times, in fact.’

He stared up at the sun, remembered a different kind of warmth. He remembered a hand on his shoulder, a puff of hot air between thin lips, heat that sent tiny droplets of sweat coursing down muscles wrapped under pale flesh. He remembered smiling then, as he did now.

‘I have.’

‘Good,’ Denaos said. ‘Now, of those times, how many had come just after she shot something?’

His smile vanished, head dropped. The rogue’s words rang through his head and heart with an awful truth to them. Surely, he realised, there were some moments between the shict and himself where she had smiled, where she had laughed and there hadn’t been a lick of blood involved.

But had she really smiled, then?

‘So she …?’

‘Was around for the violence? It’s a possibility, really. Nature of the beast, if you’ll excuse the accuracy of the statement.’ Denaos sighed. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth.’

‘It’s not.’

‘ It is,’ the voice hissed.

‘It’s not!’ Lenk insisted.

‘ Her motivation is pointless. She is a distraction, useless. He, as well, but less so if he makes our purpose that much clearer to foggy minds.’

‘Well, it’s not like you’ll have to stop seeing her,’ Denaos offered. ‘Just keep killing things and she’ll continue to follow the scent of blood.’

‘ He is right.’

‘He is not!’ Lenk muttered.

‘ Ours is a higher calling. We are not made for idle farming and contemplating dirt. There is still too much to do.’

‘What happened to you?’ he whispered. ‘Why do you speak like this now?’

‘ Too much to cleanse. A stain lingers on this island. Duty is clear.’

‘Well, you askedfor my opinion,’ Denaos replied, raising an eyebrow. ‘It’s hardly my fault that your thoughts run so contrary that you find sanity offensive, but the fact remains …’ He held out his hands helplessly. ‘Adventuring or the shict. You can embrace both or give up both, but never dismiss either. And you’ve got divine reinforcement for that fact, not that godly visions are necessary.’

‘Or real.’

The sudden appearance of what appeared to be a pale, talking stick drew both men’s attentions up to the stream bank. Dreadaeleon stood there with skinny arms folded over skinny chest, nose up in the air in an attempt at superiority that was made unsurprisingly difficult given his distinct lack of clothing, muscle and dignity.

‘How long have you been standing there?’ Denaos cut him off with a direct swiftness. ‘It’s weird enough to be wearing a loincloth, talking to another man in a loincloth, without a third boysitting and staring … in a loincloth.’

‘I had come by to talk to you. Fortunately, I arrived just as the delusional talk of gods came up.’ Dreadaeleon waved a hand as he sauntered toward them. ‘It’s irrelevant as pertains to the subject of hallucinations.’

‘It is?’ Lenk asked, quirking a brow.

‘Wait,’ Denaos interjected, ‘don’t tell me you’re going to listen to him.’

‘Why shouldn’t he?’ Dreadaeleon replied smugly. ‘Insight based on reason and knowledge is far superior to conjecture based on ignorant superstition and … well, I suppose you would probably cite something like your “gut” as credible source, no?’

‘That and the fact that, between the two of us, I’m the only one who’s managed to talk to a woman without breathing hard,’ the rogue snapped. ‘You’re aware we’re talking about women, right? Nothing even remotely logical.’

‘Everything is logical in nature, especiallyhallucinations, which you were also discussing.’ The boy turned to Lenk. ‘To credit one hallucination to one delusion is preposterous.’

Lenk frowned at the boy. ‘You … doknow I’m a follower of Khetashe, don’t you?’

‘And yet, gods’ – Dreadaeleon paused to look disparagingly at Denaos – ‘ andtheir followers don’t seem to be doing much for you. I once believed in them, too, when I was young and stupid.’

‘You’re still-’

‘ The point I’m trying to make,’ he said with fierce insistence, ‘is that hallucinations are matters of mind, not divinity. And who is more knowledgeable in the ways of the mind than a wizard? You know it was the Venarium that discovered the brain as the centre of thought.’

‘Being that this is also a matter of attraction,’ Denaos muttered, ‘brains have shockingly little to do with it.’

‘Then we should introduce a little more to the situation.’ Dreadaeleon folded his hands with a businesslike air of importance as he regarded Lenk thoughtfully. ‘Now, the hallucination you experienced, the … ah …’

‘Eel tits,’ the young man replied.

‘Yes, the eel … that. It was a sign, make no mistake.’ He tapped his temple. ‘But it came from up here. Wait no …’ He reached out a hand and prodded Lenk’s forehead sharply. ‘In there.’

The young man growled, slapping Dreadaeleon’s hand away. ‘So … what, you think it’s madness?’

‘Madness is the result of the rational coming to terms with the irrational, like rel-’

‘ Sweet Khetashe, I get it!’ Lenk said exasperatedly. ‘You’re incredibly enlightened and your brain is big enough to make your neck buckle under it.’

‘That may just be the fat in his head,’ Denaos offered.

‘Regardless, can we please remember to focus on myproblem here?’

‘Of course,’ Dreadaeleon replied. ‘Your hallucination is just that: your rational mind, what you know to be true and real, is struggling with your irrational mind, what you desire and hope. The hallucination was simply an image manifestation of that. That she was not there was rational; that she was there was irrational; the eels represent-’

‘There are precious few ways one can interpret eel tits, my friend,’ Denaos interjected.

‘Can we pleasestop saying that?’ Dreadaeleon growled. ‘The eels are simply the bridge between, the sole obstacle to what you hope to accomplish, hence their characterisation as something horrifically ugly.’

‘Couldn’t that also suggest an aversion or fear to what lay under her shirt? Or sexuality in general?’ Denaos mused.

The boy whirled on him with teeth bared. ‘Oh, was it a group of smelly thieves and rapists who uncovered the innermost machinations of the organ driving human consciousness? Because here I thought it was the most enlightened body of scholarly inquiry in the world that figured it out. But if Denaos said it, it must be the other way, because he’s so great and he’s right about everything!’

Lenk had never thought he would actually see a man will himself to explode, much less a boy, but as Dreadaeleon stared fiery holes into the rogue’s forehead, chest expanding with each fevered breath like a bladder filling with water, he absently felt the urge to take cover from the impending splatter.

‘Right,’ Dreadaeleon said, body shrinking with one expulsion of hot air as he returned to Lenk. ‘The correct thing to do, then, would be to embrace the urge and simply … you know … have at it.’

Lenk regarded the boy curiously for a moment. There was something different in him, to be sure. The burning crimson that heralded his power seemed to be present, if only in brief, faint flickers behind his dark eyes. And yet, all his being seemed to have sunk into those eyes, the rest of him looking far skinnier than usual, his hair far greasier than it should be, his cheeks hollow and his jaw clenched.

‘Well, ah … okay, then.’ Lenk blinked. ‘Thanks?’

‘My pleasure,’ Dreadaeleon said, leaning against a tree. ‘I’m a little curious as to where you managed to find a girl on this island to hallucinate over, though. Or was this someone prior to our departure?’

‘What?’ Lenk asked. ‘Didn’t you hear?’

‘Bits and pieces. I didn’t catch the identity.’ Dreadaeleon’s eyes flared wide, the fire behind them bursting to faint embers. ‘It’s not Asper, is it?’ Before the young man could answer, he leaned forward violently. ‘ Is it?’

‘No, no,’ Denaos spoke up from behind. ‘Our boy here has decided that romancing within his own breed is a bit too dull.’

‘Oh … one of the lizards, then? Tell me, how can you tell the difference between the males and-’

‘It’s Kat, you spindly little freak!’ Lenk snarled suddenly.

‘Oh … what, really?’ Dreadaeleon blanched. ‘I mean … ah. No, I don’t think that’ll work at all.’

‘See?’ Denaos said.

‘What?’ Lenk frowned. ‘A moment ago you were telling me to follow my hallucination!’

‘Hallucination and delusion are two different things,’ Denaos replied. ‘This isn’t a matter of heart or mind, but of instinct. I mean, she’ll kill you.’

‘That’s what Isaid,’ Denaos muttered.

‘She hasn’t yet,’ Lenk replied, ‘and I’m sure I won’t be the first one she does.’

‘Who can say when or why an animal attacks? Perhaps she’s just waiting to show you her true colours, like a cat stalking. Or maybe she’s waiting until she’s hungry enough?’

‘Now wait just a-’

Denaos interrupted. ‘See, I hadn’t considered that. Here, I thought it was right until she got bored.’

‘She’s not going to-’

‘That’s a good point, but I think it may be biologically spurred,’ Dreadaeleon offered. ‘Like her instincts will only come to light when he spots her demiphallus.’

‘I’m not going to …’ This time, Lenk cut himself off as he stared at the boy with wide eyes. ‘Wait. Her what?’

‘All female shicts have them, it’s theorised. Granted, our necropsies haven’t catalogued enough to-’

‘No, shut up. What’s a demiphallus?’

‘Pretty much what it sounds like,’ the boy replied. ‘Used to show dominance over males, it’s … well … it’s …’ He appeared thoughtful for a moment. ‘All right, remember when we saw those exotic pets being unloaded in Muraska’s harbour?’

‘Right.’

‘Right, and remember the hyenas?’

‘Some noble in Cier’Djaal had shipped them up, I remember.’

‘Remember the femaleone?’

‘Yes, I-’ His eyes suddenly wide at the memory. ‘Oh … no.’

‘Really?’ Denaos asked, gaping. ‘She has one, you think? That would make perfectsense.’

‘I know!’ Dreadaeleon replied, grinning. ‘Wouldn’t it?’

‘How would thatmake perfect sense?’ Lenk demanded, eyes narrowing. ‘ How?’ He glowered at the boy. ‘And how are you in any position to be commenting on any part of a female south of her neck?’