Robert Redick - The Rats and the Ruling sea

'What does Arunis expect to happen, when we reach the South?' Pazel asked. 'Does he know that the ones who sent him — the Ravens, you called 'em? — have been put in jail?'

'I don't know,' said Bolutu. 'But whether he is aware of their downfall or not, he has long since abandoned the Ravens. He has his puppet-king, through whom he hopes to wield the Nilstone. More importantly, he has ambitions all his own. The Jackals dreamed only of dominion; Arunis dreams of something darker still. And from the South he wants only what Rose and Ott desire: provisions, a course heading for Gurishal, a swift and stealthy departure.' Bolutu gave them an unsettling smile. 'They will all get more than they bargained for.'

'What happens when your masters take the Nilstone?' asked Pazel quietly.

'It will not be for me to decide,' said Bolutu, 'but I imagine that the conspirators will all be jailed, and that you will be guests of Bali Adro for as long as you like, unless you wish to take the Chathrand home again, under another commander.'

'But this is incredible,' said Neeps. 'Pazel, Thasha, do you hear the man? We're saved.'

Not if you don't get out of that chamber, hissed Diadrelu.

'We have but one task,' said Bolutu. 'To be sure Arunis finds no new, unforeseen way to use the Nilstone in the weeks ahead. Once we reach the south, my masters will take care of the rest. Trust me, friends: this journey began with treachery and loss, but it will end with redemption for us all.'

Neeps was staring at Bolutu as though suddenly fascinated. Pazel turned to Thasha, forgetting the need to scorn her, wanting her help. 'I don't know what to say, Mr Bolutu,' he said. 'You've changed everything, and it's wonderful, unbelievable. But-'

'I'm not sure this is how it's supposed to happen,' said Thasha.

'I'm sure,' said Neeps suddenly. He took a mystified Bolutu by the shoulder and made him bend, then pointed to the back of his neck. There, faint but unmistakable against the black skin, was a scar in the shape of a wolf.

9 Umbrin 941

Pitch darkness. The candle had burned out; there was no time to light another. Neeps and Thasha had departed; in a moment Pazel and Bolutu were to follow.

Hopes and fears spun madly together in Pazel's head; it was like warming one's hands over a fire while being pelted by sleet. Bolutu carried the wolf scar. They had found their seventh and final ally; and his masters, so he claimed, were stronger than all their foes put together. Certainly they were doing as the Red Wolf had intended: bringing the Nilstone back to those Erithusme had thought could guard it best. Surely it was all going as planned.

So why did Pazel feel such dread? Was it all too good to be true? Or were the sleepless nights, the bad food, the reek of bilge and the foul, close air just catching up with him? He tried to force himself to concentrate; it might be days before he could speak to Bolutu again.

'If you'd decided to tell us — the three of us, I mean — why did you wait so blary long? We could have started working together months ago.'

'I did as my masters advised,' said Bolutu's voice in the darkness. 'There was no way to tell you just a little, and I feared to tell you a lot. Nor did I have any idea that the scar on the back of my neck was anything special. Dlomu have excellent vision, but we're no better than humans at seeing out of the backs of our heads. You say that Rose, of all people, bears this mark?'

'On his forearm, yes,' said Pazel impatiently. 'Do you mean to say you weren't sure you could trust us?'

'I doubted you'd be alive long enough to trust,' said Bolutu. 'More to the point, I didn't know how well you or Thasha or Neeps could hide what you knew from Arunis. What if I had told you all this before that day on the bowsprit, when he saw into your mind?'

Pazel shuddered at the memory, knowing Bolutu had a point. He pressed on; there was so little time.

'I don't know what you've heard about Bramian,' he said.

'I heard that they asked you about a place called Stath Balfyr,' said Bolutu.

At once the ixchel began to exclaim. Stath Balfyr! Who asked the boy about Stath Balfyr? Dri, they're discussing Sanctuary! Does Taliktrum know this?He'll go mad! What if he finds out thatQuiet! shouted Dri.

'I also,' said Pazel, struggling for composure, 'talked to a horrible thing called an eguar. It told me something very strange: "I do not think that you should die before you see the wondrous South, the world my brethren made." Those were its exact words. Do you have any idea what they could mean?'

Bolutu said nothing at first. Pazel supposed he was thinking over the creature's words, but when his voice came again it was clear that he was in shock. 'You spoke… to a what?'

'An eguar. Do you know what that is?'

'Keep your distance. You should have burned your clothes. An eguar. Gods of night, you'll have contaminated the ship!'

'We did burn our clothes,' Pazel interrupted. 'On Bramian, Dr Chadfallow insisted. And he made us scrub in a river — wash our hair, clean under our nails. We nearly froze to death.'

Bolutu gave a great sigh. 'That's all right, then. Yes, I know what an eguar is, though I have never seen one. They are ancient creatures, ancestors of dragons. The poisons in their breath and secretions are a thousand times more lethal than that of the deadliest snake, and the magic in their blood is akin to that raging fire in which the world was made. When the maukslar, the demon lords, reigned in Alifros, they kept eguar as palace watchdogs. Most have died out. Where they die a crater opens, as if the land itself were decaying with the corpse. Living eguar are terribly rare today. I did not know that any were to be found north of the Nelluroq.'

'And "the world my brethren made"?'

Another pause. 'I don't know,' said Bolutu at last. 'Perhaps it merely wished to frighten you.'

'Well it succeeded,' said Pazel. 'All right, it's time to go.'

'And still there is more I would say,' said Bolutu with regret. 'But I suppose it must wait.'

'You suppose right,' said Pazel firmly. 'No more talking. Follow me.'

They opened the door and stepped out of the vault, into a narrow passage formed by stacked crates. It was just as dark and stuffy here as in the vault itself, for this entire corner of the hold was cut off from the rest by a fluke arrangement of cargo and retaining walls. The crew called the area the Abandoned House, and it hadn't taken long to see why. Pazel crept along the rattling planks over the bilge well, feeling water slop against his toes, bracing himself with his hands. After a dozen steps his right hand found the ten-inch gap he was looking for, and he made Bolutu stop. Turning sideways, they slid into this crack and shuffled another ten yards. There was a second turn, and the passage widened, and then they were at the scuttle, that narrow emergency stair that was the only way in or out of the House.

Goodbye, Pazel! Diadrelu's voice came softly, from twenty or thirty feet to his left. I will visit you this evening, if I can. Right now I must go to Hercol, who needs me. You've done well, my dear boy. You've kept your head, and followed your heart.

He had never heard such open affection in her voice, and wondered at it, and wished he could say something in reply. He waved a hand in the darkness, hoping she had not turned away.

Up the steep stair they climbed, carefully skipping the top step, and emerging at last onto the mercy deck. The blackness was still almost perfect, but Pazel could hear distant thumps and mutterings from the decks above. We've stayed too blary long. He gave Bolutu a firm nudge to starboard. That way. A hand touched Pazel's shoulder, and then he was gone.

Pazel walked in the opposite direction, as quickly as he dared. Like every deck, the mercy had a large central compartment, surrounded by cabins, passages and storage areas. But on the lower decks, where no cannon could be placed, these central compartments were smaller, and the surrounding chambers more extensive. Pazel's escape route wound through a maze of crates and pass-throughs and dividing walls. There would not be a single soul on duty at this hour; the trouble, if it came, would be from men who were not on duty but there for other reasons, such as buying or selling deathsmoke. Some said that addicts would kill anyone who stumbled across them, lest their names be reported to the captain.