Robert Redick - The Rats and the Ruling sea

'Ouch! Pitfire!' cried Drellarek happily, still watching the sharks. 'You're right, Chadfallow, you don't see that kind of show every day! Don't look, Lady Oggosk — Lady Oggosk?'

The witch had left them behind again. They hurried after her, climbing straight for the temple. Thasha could now see a curious feature of the building: its windows. They were small, irregular ovals, scattered apparently at random across the domed roof, gaping like toothless mouths.

'That is Dhola's Manse,' said Chadfallow as they climbed. 'It is only a ruin, now, but centuries before the Rinfaith was born it was a mighty cloister, built over the island's only spring. I do not know if anyone in Alifros knows the full story of its builders. They vanished, leaving only a name — Bracek Dhola, Dhola's Rib — and a handful of legends among the shore folk of the western isles.'

'So we don't even know how they died?' asked Thasha.

'It may have been the spring,' said Chadfallow. 'At some point in history the water changed, arising from the depths tainted with oils and harsh minerals. It is deadly, now — and in some chambers, boiling hot. One of those legends holds that outsiders came and seized the temple for a war-base, and killed the priests who lived here. In some stories those outsiders are Arqualis, in others men of the Pentarchy, or Noonfirth, or even some realm south of the Ruling Sea. But all the tales end the same way: with the last priest uttering a curse, and the poisons appearing in the spring.'

They hurried up the trail. The wind grew even stronger, as though trying to blow them sideways off the ridge. Soon Pazel's teeth were chattering. Thasha looked at him and tried to smile.

'Hot water,' she said. 'That sounds blary wonderful.'

Pazel grinned at her, and at all once Thasha felt more hopeful than she had in days. Then Pazel glanced up to where Rose and Oggosk waited in the temple doorway. His face darkened with confusion, and he turned from Thasha with a scowl.

The doorway was a square black hole. The party huddled just inside, out of the wind, as Hercol and the soldiers lit torches. The air inside was warm and moist. Thasha sniffed: there was a strange odour, too, a biting smell, like a harsh drug or mineral spirits. Before them ran a rough stone corridor, strewn with the bones of birds and the leavings of other visitors: a broken sandal, a ring of fire-scorched stones, an obscene rhyme scratched in charcoal on the wall.

Rose beckoned Pazel near. He clapped a hand on the tarboy's shoulder.

'What's on Dhola's Rib?' he said, in the manner of someone asking a riddle.

Pazel looked him up and down. 'I don't know, Captain,' he said at last. 'Seals?'

'Seals, and a sibyl,' said Rose. 'A sibyl, a creature with the second-sight. She could tell you the very hour of your death if she wished. But don't fear her. You're with me, and the sibyl is fond of Nilus Rose. You might say she's an old friend of the family.'

He put two fingers in his mouth, and withdrew something about the size of a peach pit. He held it up for all to see. It was a white stone, carved on one side in the form of a woman's face.

'I've kept this in my mouth since Simja. She likes that sort of thing. Likes her presents to have felt the warmth of human flesh.'

Thasha fought the urge to back away from the captain. He was mad; and his eye had a crafty gleam.

'I have a little question for her,' Rose went on. 'A private matter between me and my kin. But she's tricky, this sibyl. When she comes you have to think fast, and talk sweet. And even if you persuade her you're a friend, she may answer in some language you don't understand. That's where you come in, Pathkendle.'

He put the stone back in his mouth, and placed his hand on Pazel's shoulder.

'Arunis wants her to answer his questions,' he rumbled. 'But he's never bothered to come here before. I have the sibyl's favour, and a present, and a wise witch to help me. And you, lad — you're of great worth to me, this day.'

'Don't forget the girl, Nilus,' said Oggosk. 'She too is here to help you.'

Rose glanced doubtfully at Thasha. 'I'll not forget any aid I receive today. Nor any hindrance.'

He took a torch from one of the soldiers and led them down the corridor. After about twenty yards it ended in two narrow staircases, rising to left and right, and a third, wider, that descended straight ahead. The steps were worn until they seemed half-melted, like steps carved from soap. The middle staircase divided into two some thirty feet below.

'The maze begins,' said Rose.

Thasha saw Hercol and Drellarek exchange a look. The Turach's lips shaped a silent question: Maze?

Oggosk pointed to the left-hand stair, and up they climbed, single file, with Rose leading the way and the Turachs bringing up the rear. It was a stumbling, awkward climb: the corroded steps had no truly level surfaces any longer, and their feet tended to slide. They passed a tiny corridor exiting the stairs, and then another identical. At the third such hallway Oggosk pointed with her stick. Rose left the stairs and crept into the hall, crouching low. Embers fell from his torch as it knocked against the ceiling.

Even in this black, cramped corridor they could hear the wind outside, and the endless song of the seals. They passed many other halls, and took several turns, all chosen by the witch. Once they passed through a little chamber with an iron grate set in the floor. Steam issued from it, and a stronger whiff of that druglike smell Thasha had caught in the doorway.

Then Rose turned a sharp corner, and they were descending again: this time down a spiral staircase, even more corroded and hazardous than the previous steps. The air grew warm and heavy with moisture. Around and around they went, shuffling, choking on torch smoke, until Thasha was certain they had descended much farther than they had climbed.

Finally the staircase ended, and Rose led them down a hallway tighter than any of the others, the Turach's armoured shoulders scraping the walls with every step. The narcotic smell was all but overpowering here. Thasha tensed, aware that some deep part of her was shouting an alarm: You could get drunk on that smell — drunk, or worse. Then they turned a corner, and Lady Oggosk cried, 'Ah! Here we are!'

A great chamber opened before them. It was round, and composed of many stone rings, one within another, descending like the levels of an amphitheatre. The edges of the room were dark: Thasha could just make out a number of stone balconies, some with crumbling rails, and many black corridors leading away.

But the centre of the room was lit by fire. It was a breathtaking sight: a polished stone circle twenty paces wide or more, orange like the sun before it sets. The stone was cracked into a dozen pieces; it resembled a dinner plate smashed with a rock. The spaces between these shards were filled with water, to within a few inches of the top of the stone. And the surface of the water was burning: low blue flames that raced and died and puffed to life again, as though fed by some vapour bubbling up through the water itself.

At the centre of the cracked orange stone sat Arunis, cross-legged, his tattered white scarf knotted at the neck. His back was to the newcomers, and his Polylex lay open before him.

Peytr crouched a few paces away, hugging his knees. When the big tarboy saw the newcomers he rose with a cry: 'Captain Rose! I didn't want to help him, sir! He said he'd kill me in my sleep if I didn't!'

The newcomers filed into the room. Rose, Hercol and the Turachs descended the stone rings towards the room's fiery centre. 'You're a coward and a fool,' Drellarek shouted at Peytr.

'Or a liar,' muttered Pazel.

'Get over here, Bourjon,' snapped Rose.

The big tarboy was panic-stricken. He looked from the captain to the sorcerer and back again. Then Arunis turned his head, showing them his profile.