Star-stone was very valuable, but it was likely that seeking it was a fools’ errand. It had probably burned up before impact – or maybe they had been mistaken about the colour. Such objects, with their spectacular pyrotechnic displays, were frequently seen but rarely found. It might even have been the same one I glimpsed to the north. But, if so, I had seen no hint of crimson.
‘Anything else?’ I demanded.
‘It is rumoured that a lone purra was in the area where the stone fell. She was taken prisoner, but at great cost to the Oussa. They say that she resisted and that at least four of them died.’
Now, this was very interesting, but most improbable. The Oussa were the guard who answered directly to the Triumvirate, which was composed of the three most powerful High Mages in the city. For one person to kill four of their elite guard was even more unlikely than my own feat of slaying a Shaiksa assassin. And, after all, I am a haizda mage, not a lone female.
Suddenly I felt a great surge of curiosity. ‘I would like to see her corpse,’ I said. ‘Do they talk of where it is to be found?’
‘They say that she was taken alive and is being held within one of the most secure of the Oussa dungeons.’
‘Taken alive?!’ I exclaimed. That was even more unlikely. ‘Investigate this further,’ I commanded. ‘Report back as soon as you are able. I want to know where the purra is being held.’
Hom scuttled back to his hole, while I busied myself making preparations for my battle against the Haggenbrood. I began with mental exercises in which I visualized the steps leading up to victory. Firstly I placed myself in the arena; next, in my mind’s eye, I watched the Haggenbrood haul its three ugly selves out of the pit. I concentrated until I could both see and smell the creature. Gradually I regulated my breathing, making the image sharper, but I had only completed the preliminary sequence, entering the first level of concentration, when Hom reappeared and took his place once more on the chair opposite me.
‘Speak!’ I commanded. ‘What have you learned?’
‘I can now upgrade both reports from “gossip” to “news”. The star-stone was found by the Oussa and brought back to the city with the purra. The present location of the stone is unknown, but the purra is being held in District Yaksa Central, Level Thirteen, cell forty-two.’
That was the most secure dungeon complex in the city, and cell forty-two was usually reserved for only the most dangerous and resourceful of prisoners. How could a mere purra be deserving of such an honour?
I felt an immediate compulsion to see her for myself. I had far more time than I needed to complete my preparations for battle, so this would prove an interesting distraction. Quickly dismissing Hom, I set out for District Yaksa Central without delay.
Being honour-bound to attend the trial by combat, my movements through the city were not restricted. However, once I reached the security zone I was likely to be questioned and even arrested if I disregarded warnings about proceeding further.
So I made myself as small as possible, and then used magic strong enough to cloak myself against all but the most powerful of observers. Only the very strongest mages and assassins would now be able to see me. The security guards could no doubt penetrate the normal cloaking devices of city mages, but I was a haizda, and luckily our methods were largely unknown.
Level by level I began to descend. At first the corridors and concourses were thronged with Kobalos. I strolled through the lavish multicoloured malls where rich merchants displayed their goods for even richer customers, while others could only gape and dream. This gave way three levels lower to the food stalls where hawkers cooked blood, bone and offal over open fires, filling the air with pungent odours.
My favourite place here was the blood vats where, for the price of two valcrons, you could drink as much as you wanted. I extended my tongue until I could lap the thickest most viscous part of the delightful liquid and then, my belly full to bursting, continued my descent.
After a while I left the Kobalos crowds far behind, encountering only the occasional guard; cloaked as I was, I was able to slip past them with ease. By the time I reached Level Twelve, the only things that moved were the whoskor or other similar entities. At one point I glimpsed a huge worm-like creature that regarded me from the mouth of a dark tunnel, its single gigantic bleary eye following my progress. I had no name for it. It was new to me, no doubt spawned as the result of some new magic developed by the High Mages. What disturbed me momentarily was that it could see me despite my cloaking. But it slid slowly back into the tunnel and showed no further interest in my progress downwards.
It took me almost an hour to penetrate to Level Thirteen. Less than five minutes later I was standing outside cell forty-two. Torches flickered on the walls of the dank corridor, which were not constructed from skoya – these dungeons had been carved out of the bed-rock far below the city. I heard groans all around, and the occasional scream cut through the air, making my mouth fill with saliva. Then someone began to beg:
‘No! No!’ the voice cried out plaintively. ‘Hurt me no more! It is too much! I confess! I confess! I did all that you accuse me of. But please stop. I wish to—’
The voice became a scream of agony, which meant that the torture had continued and no doubt intensified. I enjoyed that, but I must tell you that I could never be a torturer of the weak. I much prefer to inflict pain in battle, testing myself against another who shows courage and mettle.
These delightful sounds came from cells where enemies of Valkarky were being confined. They were being tortured, and deservedly so. It was a pleasure to hear their cries of pain. But from cell forty-two there came no sound. Was the purra dead? No doubt she had been too weak to withstand the clever tortures applied.
I slithered under the door to find that things were quite different from what I had expected. Instantly I knew that the prisoner was very much alive. Not only that – despite my cloaking magic, she could see me. She stared down at me in a way that left me in no doubt about it. It was also clear that she considered me to be no better than an insect that she would crush under her heel.
Of course, she was in no position to do that because she was nailed to the wall with silver-alloy pins. There was one through each wrist and each foot. In addition, a silver chain was twisted around her neck, pulled taut and fastened to a large hook in the ceiling of the dungeon. That was not to mention the fact that her lips were stitched together with silver twine so she could not speak. I sensed that she was in considerable pain, and it was a wonder that she was not moaning.
She was not dressed in a skirt – the usual garb of both city purrai and those from outside. Her garment was divided and strapped tightly to each thigh. On her upper body was a short brown smock tied at the waist.
I blew myself up to a height that brought us face to face and decided that I needed to speak with this purra. No doubt they had sewn her lips shut for a purpose, and some risk might be involved in removing the stitches, but I was curious to know more. I drew a blade, and with its sharp tip very carefully sliced through the silver twine. Then I tugged it free with a jerk so that her swollen lips fell open.
What I saw within her mouth surprised me. Her teeth had been filed to points.
‘Who are you?’ I demanded.
She smiled at me then. It was not the smile of a bound prisoner. It was an expression that might have flickered onto her face had our roles been reversed.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to visit me,’ she said, ignoring my question. ‘Why has it taken you so long?’
‘Waiting for me?’ I asked. ‘How can that be?’
Her expression became stern and imperious – totally inappropriate for a purra. ‘I summoned you to my presence two hours ago, little mage,’ she said.
What madness was this? For a moment I was lost for words.
Then she smiled very widely to display all her pointy teeth.
‘I am Grimalkin,’ she said.
I REGARDED HER with astonishment.
‘Y
ou speak your name as if I should know it. I have never heard of a purra called Grimalkin. You claim you “summoned” me? What foolish talk is that?’ I demanded.
‘It is the truth,’ she said. ‘Once I had discovered everything there was to know about you, I summoned you by magic using a spell of compulsion. There is the instrument of your undoing!’
With a slight flick of her eyebrows, she indicated the far corner of her cell. One of Hom’s rat-bodied selves was lying there. Its eyes were closed and its thin tail was twitching as if it was in the grip of some seizure.
‘Even with my lips bound, it was easy to gain control of such a foolish creature. When it came looking for me, I sucked from its busybody self all the knowledge I needed. It was then very easy to bring you here. I know all about you, mage. I know the trouble that you are in. And I am prepared to help you, but I will need three things in return.’
‘Help me? You are in no position to help anyone! And soon you will be dead. Four members of the Oussa lost their lives attempting to bring you into lawful custody. Your death warrant will already have been signed. No doubt they will delay your demise in order to prolong your pain and learn what they can about you.’
‘There was nothing lawful about my capture,’ the purra retorted. ‘They stole from me a piece of star ore that was in my possession. Other more important things were also confiscated. These you must return to me in order to receive my help.’
So the purra had found the star-stone. ‘Finders keepers’ was the law in such cases, but the Oussa would not accept that a lone human, especially a purra who was so close to Valkarky, had any rights. A star-stone was rare, very valuable and much sought after. A weapon using such ore could be fashioned only by the most skilled of smiths, but properly worked the result was a blade that never lost its edge and could not be broken. Even if the star-stone had not been a factor, this purra would have been arrested on sight and either eaten or bound in slavery. That she had resisted meant certain death.
By rights I should have left her to her fate, but I was filled with an overwhelming curiosity and wanted to learn more. I was also impressed by her bravery and combat ability in slaying four of the Oussa.
‘If you were free, how could you help me?’ I asked.
‘You face trial by combat against a creature that you call the Haggenbrood. It has never been defeated, so history says that you will lose and die . . .’
I raised my hand to protest but she continued speaking, a little more rapidly than before.
‘Don’t try to deny it. I know all about you – information from the mind of your little spy. I know the situation and have thought out what to do. I could take the place of one of the three girls bound to stakes in the arena – the one called Nessa is the closest to me in size; I hold her image in my mind, courtesy of your spy. Cut me free and give me a blade as you intended for her. I will fight alongside you; consequently, the Haggenbrood will die and you will be allowed to leave the city with the three girls.’
‘This is foolish,’ I told her, aghast at the way she had entered my head. ‘I don’t know why I am wasting my time listening to you. Even if I could free you from this cell, do you not think that your substitution for little Nessa would be noticed?’
The purra smiled and her whole body seemed to shimmer, and then I had a moment of dizziness. And there before me, the silver pins through her hands and feet, the silver chain twisted tightly about her neck, was Nessa.
‘Now do you believe?’ she asked, speaking with the voice of little Nessa, the intonation and nuance completely correct. Quickly, I used magic to try and probe the illusion, but to no avail. The image of Nessa didn’t even waver.
‘How can you do this?’ I demanded. ‘You have neither seen Nessa nor heard her speak?’
‘There are not merely words inside a head!’ the witch retorted. ‘There are images and sounds – I took all that I needed from your little spy’s head. The rest I have been taking from your own mind even as we speak!’
Angered by that, I attempted to slither into her mind. I intended to give her pain – just enough to make a scream. But I could not do it. There was some type of barrier there – one that I could not breach. She was strong.
‘I believe that you could indeed enter the arena in that guise and fool the spectators – even the High Mages,’ I admitted grudgingly. ‘But what makes you think that fighting alongside me would make our victory certain?’
‘I am Grimalkin, the assassin of the Malkin clan. I am a witch who can wield powerful magic; more than that, I am skilled in the arts of combat. I could defeat the Haggenbrood alone if necessary.’
I would have laughed at her arrogance, but I did not do so. I had never heard of the Malkin clan, nor of a witch assassin, but this purra radiated utter confidence and certainty. She really believed that she could do it. And had she not already slain four elite guards?
‘The real problem would be to get you out of here and back to my quarters before the trial,’ I explained. ‘These dungeons are very secure. I only managed to reach this level because I can make myself very small, as you have already seen. I can slither through a crack or under a door. Can you do that?’
She shook her head and her whole body shimmered. Once again I was looking at the pointy-toothed purra. ‘I can create that illusion, but lack the ability to change my size. If you ease the tightness of the silver chain around my neck I will do the rest. But I still need three things from you in return.’
‘Name them,’ I said.
‘First of all, I want my weapons returned to me. There are ten blades and a pair of special scissors. I also require the straps and sheaths that hold them. Secondly, I require the piece of star ore that was taken from me.’
‘It will be difficult enough to seize and return your weapons to you; to get the star-stone will be impossible. It is very valuable and will now be under tight guard.’ It had almost certainly been placed in the Plunder Room, the most secure vault in the city.
‘I want it. It belongs to me!’
‘A purra has no rights of ownership. Cease making that foolish demand and be content with your weapons.’
‘Mage,’ she said mockingly, ‘it was a question of ownership that brought you to the extremely difficult position in which you now find yourself. From your servant I learned how you slew the High Mage and the Shaiksa assassin to win back the three girls into your possession. I know that you are a formidable warrior, thus I offer you the respect that I would deny others. But we come from different races and cultures. In Pendle, where I live, there is no slavery, no ownership of people, and a female can own property. Thus we see things from different perspectives. Accept my rights and I will accept yours. And now we come to the third thing that you must bring me. It is a large leather sack that contains something very dangerous. Of the three things that I require to be returned to me, this is the most important.’
‘Then you must tell me exactly what it contains.’
‘It would be better for you to remain in ignorance, but I can see into your head, mage, and I know that curiosity is your greatest flaw. It was that trait I used within my spell of compulsion to draw you here. If I keep silent, you will meddle anyway. The sack contains the head of the Fiend, the most powerful of all the entities who dwell within the dark.’
Her words puzzled me. I had never heard of anything called the ‘Fiend’. Nor did I understand what she meant by the ‘dark’. Beyond this world there were domains of the spirits such as Askana, the dwelling place of our gods – but as for Kobalos and human souls, where they went after death was unknown to us. They went up or down, and none returned to tell of their experience – though most suspected it was better to go up than down.
‘What is the “dark”?’ I asked.
‘It is the abode of daemons and gods – and of their servants after death. It is the place we witches return to.’
‘Is the head of a god in the sack?’ I asked.
‘Yes, he could be described as a god. There ar
e many Old Gods and, intact, he is more powerful than all the others combined. The rest of his body is bound far away so the head must remain separate – lest his servants succeed in resurrecting him. His vengeance would be terrible.’
‘I know nothing of your gods,’ I told the purra. ‘We have many. My personal favourite is Cougis, the dog-headed god, but many of my people worship Olkie, the god of Kobalos blacksmiths, who has four iron arms and teeth made of brass. However, the greatest of our gods is called Talkus, which means the God Who Is Yet to Be. He is not yet born but we all eagerly await his arrival.’
The purra called Grimalkin smiled at me, showing her pointed teeth. ‘Your people have your truths and my people have ours. We are very different in our beliefs,’ she told me. ‘I will respect your faith and, in return, I ask that you respect mine. The head in the sack must be returned to me. That is the most important thing of all. But whatever you do, leave it within the sack. It would be extremely dangerous to remove it. If you wish to survive, you will need to curb your curiosity.’
‘First I must locate it,’ I said, then pointed at the twitching rat. ‘Release him from your magic so that he can find the sack and the other items that you require.’
The purra nodded, and Hom suddenly stopped quivering and rolled over onto his little ratty feet, his whiskers twitching. I quickly gave him instructions: ‘I need the precise location of a number of objects taken from this purra by the Oussa,’ I told him. ‘The most important of these is a large leather sack. Secondly, find the star-stone. Additionally, there are a number of weapons, and the straps and sheaths that contain them. Report back immediately following the completion of your task!’
He turned, and with an angry flick of his thin tail he left the dungeon.
‘How long is it likely to take?’ the purra asked.
‘Far less time than it will take to obtain what you have asked for. But he will not return here – although he has acute hearing and sharp vision, in that form he lacks the means to speak. So now I must leave and return to my quarters to hear his report from a self that can.’
The Spook 9 - Slither's tale Page 11