Something other than the fact that the boat had been inexplicably pierced by great shards of glass.
Something other...
"Oh gods..." Hereward whispered as she realized what it was. "Shush!" she yelled. "Quiet!"
The boat was no longer moving. It was stuck fast, canted over to one side, as if it was caught in...a river of glass.
"Quiet," Hereward whispered, now holding the boy so tightly against her chest he whimpered.
"Listen," she said.
There was the sound of something outside, scampering over the glass river. Something soft and heavy, something that moved on clawed feet.
Something...
"A tasty, tasty!" came a whisper from outside, and in that instant Hereward's world turned to hell.
Skraelings poured down the ladder into the cabin. People screamed, trying desperately to find somewhere, anywhere, to escape.
There was no escape. As Hereward twisted about she saw two men try to attack the Skraelings, only to be torn to shreds before her eyes. Another man tried to evade them, but impaled himself on a wicked shard of glass sticking through the hull.
Hereward had never felt panic like she felt now. Her terror on the banks of the Lhyl when first she'd seen the Skraelings crawling over DarkGlass Mountain could not compare to the sheer depth of her current fright. She thought her heart would burst; she hoped it would burst, because it would be a better death than that which must only be heartbeats away.
A Skraeling grabbed a woman just in front of her, and tore her head off with one bite.
Then Hereward saw its eyes lock on her.
She shrieked, scrabbling back along the table, dragging the boy with her.
The Skraeling swiped at her, but she managed to evade it with a desperate lunge to one side that saw her slide completely off the table.
She clambered to get to her feet, but tripped over a body as she did so, and slammed into the decking boards again.
There was a whisper behind her, and she knew it was the Skraelings.
She rolled over, trying to get under the end of the table, but the creature's hand grabbed into her hair and dragged her half upright.
Blood poured down her face and neck from the wounds the Skraeling's claws caused in her scalp.
In her arms the little boy shrieked, and the silver orbs in the Skraeling's jackal face slid down to the child.
The Skraeling's tongue flopped out one side of its jaws, and Hereward saw it literally slaver in delight.
Then, suddenly, the creature's grip in her hair was gone and it seized one of the boy's arms.
Hereward scrabbled backward desperately, trying to hold onto the boy, who was now screaming in terror while the Skraeling tugged at the boy's arm.
It tore off, making the Skraeling stagger backward.
Blood spattered over Hereward--not only from the boy, but also from one of her kitchen companions, Ingruit, who had just been opened up from breast to belly by a Skraeling claw.
Ingruit fell to the floor beside Hereward, and three Skraelings leapt on her, burying their heads in the body of the still-breathing woman.
Hereward continued to scrabble backward. The movement was automatic, for Hereward was now in such deep shock she was incapable of coherent thought.
The boy was still moving in her arms, still shrieking--and then he was gone, torn from her grip by the Skraeling who had taken his arm, now recovered in its balance.
Hereward was covered in blood. She could feel it soaking through her hair, her clothes, into every crevice and pore of her skin.
And the stink--the cabin was crowded with Skraelings and with the corpses they fed on, and the air was thick with the stench of hot blood and split bowels. Hereward could not believe she was not yet dead, and could not believe she could be forced to go through so much suffering while waiting to die.
She continued to move backward, finally shuffling up against the bulkhead.
Two Skraelings advanced on her. Their jaws and bodies were red with blood, and, having already eaten, they approached slowly, enjoying her terror.
Feeding on her fear, as they would shortly feed on her body.
Hereward tried to stand, forcing her legs to work, sliding further and further up the bulkhead.
One of the Skraelings feinted toward her, and she shrieked and jerked upright...
...and hit her head on a shelf.
She slumped to the floor again, and then something toppled off the shelf and hit her on the head and shoulder.
Hereward cried out, grabbing at the thing as the two Skraelings, now tired of their play and wanting only to eat, lunged at her.
Whatever the object was, it was large and very heavy, and Hereward meant to try and throw it at the Skraelings...but it was far too heavy for her fear-weakened arms and she could only wave it ineffectually about before dropping it in her lap.
Hereward had her eyes tightly closed, sure that at any instant Skraeling claws would shred into her flesh.
Nothing.
Quiet.
She sat there, breath wheezing in and out of her lungs, eyes tightly closed, and wished they would just do it, get it over with, just kill her, please, gods, just kill her...
Nothing.
Quiet.
Then the faintest of whispers.
"A nasty, nasty."
Hereward managed to open one eye, just a slit. It was an effort, as blood had gummed it shut, and for a moment she thought that the blood smearing her vision must be making her see wrongly.
"A nasty, nasty," repeated one of the Skraelings, hand partly lifted to point a claw at the object in her lap.
Then, unbelievably, the Skraelings turned as one and filed out of the cabin.
Hereward heard their footpads on the deck above, then heard them retreating across the glassed river.
Very slowly she looked down at her lap.
Resting there was a huge leatherbound book.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Sky Peaks Pass
Why hunt down the generals, Maxel?" said Axis. "From what you have said to me about your and," he glanced at Ishbel, "Ishbel's policy of allowing everything to break apart, as well as what you intimated to the army earlier, the generals' lack should not bother you overmuch. So why send the Lealfast after them?"
"Because I need to gauge the Lealfast's usefulness," said Maximilian. "The Lealfast say they have vast experience as fighters, but how do I know that? But I also send them because I do need to know what the generals are doing--as Ezekiel pointed out, they will undoubtedly come after me at some point, and whatever you may think, I have no suicide wish. Use this time to evaluate the Lealfast, Axis."
"That was a pretty spell you performed for us just then, Axis," Ishbel said. "How did you do that, if your Enchanter abilities are as dead as you have said?"
Axis grinned. "I'd known the Lealfast could access the Star Dance, but I had no idea how until this afternoon. When they did that trick for you, Maxel, forming an image of Elcho Falling in the sky, I
suddenly remembered something I'd been taught when first I'd started out as an Enchanter."
He gave a soft laugh. "By the stars, the Icarii are known for their blind arrogant stupidity, and our inability to use the Star Dance over these past years is evidence of that."
"What do you mean?" Ishbel said.
"We'd always assumed that the only way to use the Star Dance," Axis said, "was to hear it. But that isn't the only way..."
He grinned at the puzzlement on Maximilian's and Ishbel's faces. "I will explain to you, but do you mind if it is tomorrow? This is something I'd like to share with my father, and then with the other Enchanters among the Icarii."
Maximilian gave a nod and a smile. "At a later time, then. I'll bid you good night, Axis. We can talk again in the morning."
Axis said good night and moved to the door. Just as he reached it, Maximilian spoke again. "Axis?
Congratulations. You must feel as if half the world has been returned to you."
"I
feel," Axis said softly, "as if the entire world has been returned to me, Maxel."
With that, he was gone, and Maximilian turned to Ishbel.
Isaiah was standing in the shadow of an equipment tent when Axis left Maximilian's tent and came up to him.
"Be careful in Isembaard, my friend," Axis said. "I like you too much to be speaking the address at your memorial service anytime soon."
Isaiah inclined his head, accepting Axis' concern. "I had thought you were off to see your father."
"I shall be, in a moment. Isaiah...be careful of the Lealfast, eh?"
Isaiah gave a short laugh. "I shall not trust them overly, if that eases your concern."
"Aye, it does. Isaiah..." Axis paused. "Ravenna has shown Maxel a vision."
Isaiah's attention sharpened. "Yes?"
"Apparently it shows Ishbel opening the doors of Elcho Falling to doom. Ravenna says Ishbel will deliver sorrow throughout the entire land." Axis gave a small shrug. "The maddened jealousies of a bitter woman, no doubt."
"Perhaps," Isaiah said. Perhaps.
Axis was grinning to himself, not noticing Isaiah's introspection. "I asked Ishbel to be my lover."
"And she refused," Isaiah said, bringing his attention once more to the conversation. "You do not need to tell me that. Now, let us say good-bye, Axis. I think we shall both have some adventures to relate to each other when next we meet."
They gripped hands, then hugged each other fiercely.
"Go see your father, Axis, and tell him how to open his eyes to the Star Dance once more."
"Ishbel, I know it is late, and you are tired. I won't keep you long."
She sat down in a chair, arranging her skirts carefully. "It is of no matter, Maxel. What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Do you remember me asking you about the Twisted Tower? It was a long time ago, on our way to Escator."
She frowned, thinking, then her face cleared. "Yes. It was on the way from Pelemere to Kyros."
"You did not know what it was."
"No. Maxel...will you tell me now?"
"The crown of Elcho Falling carries with it countless mysteries...and the heir to the crown needs to learn them. Many, many generations ago one of the Lords of Elcho Falling constructed the Twisted Tower in which to store the mysteries and secrets of Elcho Falling. It is a memory palace."
"A memory palace?"
"A memory palace is an imagined building, filled with objects--for us it is a great twisted tower with ninety levels. Each level contains one chamber, and each chamber is crowded with objects. Each object contains a memory."
"And as a child...you had to learn each single object?"
Maximilian smiled at the horror in her voice. "Yes...although it wasn't as bad as you might think. The Twisted Tower was closely linked to the Persimius bloodline. It was simple for every Persimius heir to know an object. We merely had to pick it up and we could `recall' the knowledge it contained." He sighed. "But...there's a problem."
Now it was Ishbel who smiled, a soft, gentle thing. "Of course there is."
"Knowledge of the Twisted Tower has been handed down through scores of generations. The problem is that every generation seemed to forget a few of the objects." Maximilian's mouth twisted slightly.
"Maybe some of my forebears thought there was little point in remembering. Elcho Falling had been unneeded for so long that there was little likelihood it would ever need to rise again. What harm if one heir forgot the blue vase under the window of level nineteen, and his son the contents of the third drawer in the chest on level forty?"
"How much has been lost, Maxel?"
"About two-thirds of it. From the thirty-sixth level the chambers begin to progressively empty, so that by the time I reach the top of the tower, each chamber is utterly bare. So much has been forgotten."
Now his mouth curved again, this time with more humor. "I had hoped that somehow you held some miraculous key to recalling the empty space of the Twisted Tower. I had thought that was perhaps why you were sent to me...that somehow, in your forgotten Persimius line, the lost objects could be remembered."
"And I know nothing. Maxel, I'm sorry. Perhaps Elcho Falling has the answers."
"Perhaps. Oh gods, I hope so. Without the knowledge that has been lost, Ishbel, then I am helpless. I
can raise Elcho Falling...but I can do little else. You have no idea how desperately I hope that Elcho Falling has the answers. Ishbel...I just wanted to explain to you about the Twisted Tower. I should have done so before."
He'd also just wanted to talk his worry out, Ishbel realized, and was mildly surprised to discover herself glad that he'd wanted to talk to her about it.
"There's something else I wanted to mention," Maximilian said. "Have you heard of the Weeper? The bronze deity that StarDrifter brought with him out of Coroleas?"
"Yes. He and Salome told me something of its history. StarDrifter also said that you and he thought it was responsible for the regrowth of his and Salome's wings. It is a very powerful object."
"You know the damn thing talks."
She gave a small smile. "Yes. It is metal. I am sure that it talks."
They looked at each other. Both were Elementals, born with the ability to hear the chatter of the elements within metals and glass. Ishbel had repressed her ability to hear them for many years after her terrible experience as a child, when the jewelry on her dead parents had whispered to her to expect the rise of the Lord of Elcho Falling. Now, although she had accepted her ability, Maximilian thought she remained just a little wary of it.
"What does it say?" Ishbel asked after a moment.
"For the longest time, it said very little. It chatted to my ring--" Maximilian held up his right hand which bore the Persimius ring "--a great deal, but to me...very little. It just wanted to be near me. But in the past few days it has been whispering your name, Ishbel. It wants to speak to you."
Ishbel's face went very still.
"I think it is harmless enough, Ishbel."
"Ha. I doubt that very much. But if you want, I will see it."
She paused. "Maxel..."
"Yes?"
"I am of Persimius blood, too. Can I see the Twisted Tower? Can you show it to me?" Will you trust me that far?
CHAPTER FIVE
The River Lhyl, North of Azibar, Isembaard
Hereward sat for what felt like hours, staring either at the book or at the horrific scene in the cabin before her. Bodies, or the remains of bodies, lay strewn about, and there did not appear to be a single space that was not coated in blood.
One thing in particular caught her eye. It was the remnant of a body stuck on one of the shards of glass that had pierced the hull. Hereward couldn't quite decide what part of a body it was, though. Part of an abdomen? A shoulder? A buttock? The Skraelings had obviously chewed the person while still attached to the glass, and Hereward found herself wondering if they left that remaining fragment because they didn't want to cut their tongues on the sharp glass.
It was a very meaty fragment. Hereward thought it must have been difficult for the Skraelings to abandon.
Maybe they'd left it because of the book.
Hereward looked down at it once more. It looked like any ordinary book. It was very large, almost an arm's length in height, and half as wide, and as deep as the length of her hand. It was covered in fine-grained calfskin with an elegant tooled gilt edging about the front cover.
It didn't look dangerous, and Hereward could not think why it should have scared the Skraelings so greatly. With its covering of calfskin, she thought they would have thought it a tasty, tasty, not a nasty, nasty.
Hereward sat there until she felt her back and legs start to cramp. She was very cold, still in deep shock, and could not understand why the Skraelings did not come back for her.
Were they waiting outside? Were they tormenting her?
Why this delay in death?
Should she go find them, offer herself to them?
Or shou
ld she try to live instead?
In the end Hereward shoved the book to one side and, with great effort, managed to get to her feet. She stood for a few minutes, swaying slightly, then took a step or two toward the door at the far end of the cabin.
Then she stopped, looked behind her, and stepped back to pick up the book.
She almost dropped the thing, it was so heavy, then she steadied it in her arms and began the gruesome walk to the door, stepping over the body parts as she went and taking care not to slip in the pools of blood.
It was night outside, and a gentle breeze blew in from the east. Hereward stood on the slanting deck, hugging the book to her chest, looking about.
Everything looked so calm, so peaceful.
There was a band of Skraelings some fifty or sixty paces away on the east bank, outlined in the moonlight. They were moving slowly, their snouts snuffling along the ground.
One of them looked up and saw her, then they all raised their heads, stared, and as one moved off further to the east.
"What are you?" Hereward whispered to the book. She thought about opening it--there was a lamp still burning on the prow of the boat and she could easily read by its light--but for the moment all Hereward wanted to do was to strip off her blood-soaked clothes. She put the book carefully down on the deck, then looked around.
The river was useless. As far as she could see, it was nothing but green glass.
The same color as DarkGlass Mountain.
Hereward had heard rumors about the evil nature of the pyramid all her life, and had loathed it intuitively.
Now that same intuition told her that the pyramid, or whatever inhabited it, was responsible for this.
Hereward sighed. She could not bathe in the river, but there was a barrel of rainwater wedged against one of the boat's railings, and so she stripped away her blood-stiffened clothes and washed herself down, scrubbing at her long dark hair to get the blood out, and not caring about the sting of the cuts in her scalp.
She also did not worry about the Skraelings. Surely, if she was fated to die, then the Skraelings would have taken her before this.
There was a chest tied in close against the cabin, and from it Hereward retrieved a linen robe--it was Odella's, and a little too big for Hereward's slim body, but she belted it in tightly.
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