‘No?’
‘He Has Three New Flying Devices, Two Captive Demons And You.’
Kin sprang round. More guards had appeared on the balcony, and they were archers. She considered taking a dive for the open air with the belt on full throttle. She might get hit. She doubted whether the disc’s medical facilities were satisfactory. Anyway, that wouldn’t solve Silver’s problem.
So she collapsed into tears of inconsolable grief.
She heard a brief conversation between the demon and his master. Then two servant women were summoned to take her away.
She had one glimpse of Silver’s impassive face before she was escorted out of the room and into a maze of ornate arches and screens. A male guard walked behind her with a drawn sword.
The women chattered at her solicitously. When they reached one arched doorway the guard left them, and took up a post outside the door. Kin was briefly surrounded by a gaggle of small dark-eyed women in scanty clothing before the older of her escorts shooed them away. She felt helpful arms guiding her to a bench. She sat and stared.
Later a middle-aged woman brought her some food. Kin looked up at her gratefully. Under the strange make-up the woman was watching her with simple-minded sympathy.
So Kin apologized silently as she hit her, as nicely as possible. The woman sighed and collapsed, but Kin was already on her feet and running.
She sped through several low and airy rooms and had a blurred impression of fountains, singing birds and bored women sitting on large cushions. Kohl-eyed, they stared after her and began to scream as Kin cannoned into a servant carrying a tray.
A long way behind her a new series of screams suggested that a guard had reluctantly invaded the seraglio.
Kin reached a balcony, considered the courtyard below, then scrambled up a decorative trellis that trembled even under her weight. It took her on to a flat roof and into the full glare of the noon sun.
Shouts below meant that a guard had got as far as the balcony. Kin threw herself down, chest heaving, hoping that he would think she had taken the easy way and dropped into the courtyard. He didn’t. There was a sudden silence, broken by some heavy breathing.
Then wood cracked, and there was the beginnings of a wail that ended with a noise like a falling man hitting hard stone flags.
She jogged across the roof to the nearer of two towers that pierced it. It wasn’t a wise choice really, but she couldn’t think of anything else. There was an arch with no door, and a dark spiral stairway as cold as ice after the glare of the sun off the roof.
The stairs ended in a turret room with glassless windows looking out over the city. Kin peered around in the gloom. It looked as if she was in a storeroom.
There were a few carpets rolled up against the wall, and boxes in untidy heaps beside them. A tall bronze statue in vaguely Middlesea dress was propped against a three-legged table with what looked like the wreckage of a drinking party strewn across it. There were several swords, including one that looked – Kin couldn’t believe it, but closer inspection bore out the first impression – one that was half-buried in an anvil.
In the middle of the floor was a statue of a horse, cast in some dark metal. The musculature had been done well, but the pose was uninspiring. It just stood four-square, looking at the floor.
‘Junk,’ said Kin. She tried to pull an iron-bound chest across the stair-hole, then gave up and sat on it instead. There was no sound below.
‘A person could hold out here for weeks,’ she thought. ‘With food and water, that is.’ Food! She thought longingly of the magic table, or even of the dumbwaiter. But she couldn’t have eaten a meal with Silver watching her sorrowfully, knowing that inside two days the shand would turn despite herself into a ravening, ravenous animal.
‘Marco? Silver?’ she whispered.
At the fifth attempt Marco answered.
‘Kin! Where are you?’
‘I’m up in – is there anyone with you?’
‘We’re in a zoo! You wouldn’t believe it! You must get us out!’
‘I’m in some sort of museum attic,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to wait until it’s dark. Where are you exactly?’
‘I assume we’re somewhere in the palace grounds. You must work quickly. Silver and I are in the same cage.’
‘What’s she doing now?’
‘Moping.’
‘Oh-oh.’
‘What?’
Kin sighed. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said. She padded over to a window and peered out. Someone was shouting in the distance, but the roof lay hot and empty below her. There was, she noticed, a black speck wheeling in the sky. One of the Eyes of God, whoever He was.
Most of the swords she could hardly lift with both hands, so they were out.
‘Let’s face it,’ she told herself, ‘how are you going to make the big heroic rescue in any case?’
‘On the other hand,’ she answered, ‘it’ll be expected of you. The races of the galaxy look towards mankind as the essential lunatic element.’
She stepped backwards, and knocked against the table. The jug on it fell over, and spilled vinegar-smelling wine across the table and on to the floor in a thin stream. Kin watched it for a while, then carefully set the jug upright.
It swished.
Looking inside, she saw dark liquid rising. She waited until the jug was brim full of swirling redness then grabbed the handle, sloshed the liquid across the room and brought the base of the jug down hard against the tabletop.
There was a sizzle and a brief smell of ozone. Bits of circuit laminate bounced on the floor.
‘Fine,’ she said softly, ‘that’s just fine. So long as it wasn’t the fairies that were doing it.’ On the other hand, the Company didn’t believe in matter transmission either. But it might have been, say, a tiny single-function dumbwaiter in the base of the jug, sucking up molecules from the ambient air. She decided she’d believe anything but magic.
Someone moved, down at the base of the staircase.
There was nowhere to hide. Correction – the tower room was bursting with hiding places, but none of them promised to be permanent. Kin grabbed a sword from a pile nearby and considered hacking at the first head to appear on the stairs.
No good. She looked up at a small trapdoor in the ceiling, and decided it would be easier to defend. If it led on to the roof, perhaps the raven would see her – as if that would do any good. Anyway, she could then slice at fingers.
She walked over to the horse statue and hoisted herself into a stirrup, then stood on tiptoe in the saddle to fumble with the trap door.
The horse whirred. Kin swayed, landed sitting in the saddle but with enough force to knock the breath out of her. Then she couldn’t move her legs. She looked down in panic. Padded clamps had extruded from the horse’s flanks and were gripping her gently but firmly.
The neck in front of her came up. The head swivelled 180 degrees and the horse looked at Kin with bright insectile eyes.
‘YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND,’ it said inside Kin’s head.
‘Hell!’
‘THOSE ARE NOT MEANINGFUL CO-ORDINATES.’
‘Are you a robot?’
She felt a click and whirr of gears underneath her.
‘I AM THE FABULOUS MECHANICAL HORSE OF AHMED, PRINCE OF TREBISOND.’
Kin heard scurrying footsteps on the stairs.
‘Get me out of here!’ she hissed.
‘PLEASE HOLD ON TO THE REINS. PLEASE LOWER THE HEAD. IN CASE OF MALAISE OF THE AIR, PLEASE USE THE RECEPTACLE PROVIDED.’
There was a thud inside the animal, and the noise of heavy wheels tumbling into motion. The horse took off. As they glided smoothly through the window Kin flung herself forward to avoid the edge of the wall. And then the horse was free and moving, legs galloping on the air as it soared into the copper sky.
Kin looked at the sword in her hand. It was night-black and unnaturally light, but it would do. It would be surprising if Abu had learned how to use the lift belts yet, so pos
sibly his only other aircraft was the carpet.
If it came to an aerial flight, she’d prefer to be on the horse.
‘YOUR FURTHER WISH IS MY COMMAND.’
‘You can start by telling me how you fly,’ said Kin, peering at the gardens below.
‘ABANAZZARD THE MAGICIAN FABRICATED ME. I FLY BY APPLICATION OF THE COMPOUND UPSWINGING WEIGHT ENGINE, WHICH REQUIRES THE CONTINUED INTERVENTION OF THE DJINNEE ZOLAH AT THE CRITICAL POINT.’
‘Do you know of a zoo in the palace grounds?’
‘YES.’
‘Land inside it, then.’
‘TO HEAR IS TO OBEY, O MISTRESS.’
The horse started to gallop in a descending spiral. Kin was briefly aware of upturned faces as they raced at roof height back towards the palace. A ragged line of dusty trees flashed past and Kin realized they were landing in a wide avenue between rows of low cages, dark and forbidding in the gathering dusk.
Her mount touched down neatly, hooves galloping smoothly from empty air to packed earth. Something hurled itself against the bars of the nearest cage, and she got a vague impression of wings and teeth. Plenty of teeth.
‘Marco!’ Things shrilled and sneezed in the shadows of the cages.
‘Over here!’
Kin urged the horse forward until she saw Marco’s gleaming eyes looking urgently between bars thick enough to have been tree trunks. Perhaps they were.
Kin jiggled them until they slid back noisily. Marco came out as though on a spring.
‘Give me the sword,’ he commanded. Kin had almost handed it over before it occurred to her that she could have refused, and then it was too late. He snatched it.
‘Is this the best you could do?’ he hissed. ‘It’s blunt as a ball.’
‘Big deal! I could have gone off and left you!’
Marco tapped the flat of the black sword on one opened palm, and looked at her reflectively.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You could. This sword will do. Thank you. From where did you obtain the flying robot?’
‘Well, I went—’
‘How do you make it fly?’
‘It just obeys, and – get down!’
Marco settled himself in the saddle, and ignored her.
‘Do you know the way to the palace, robot quadruped?’
‘YES, O MASTER.’
‘Then proceed.’
There was a brief dumming of hooves and the horse was a dwindling speck against the sky. Kin watched it disappear and then peered into the back of the cage.
‘Silver?’ she said quietly. A light shape stirred in the gloom.
‘Come on,’ said Kin. ‘We’d better be going. How do you feel?’
Silver sat up.
‘Where is the kung?’ she said thickly.
‘Gone to beat up the baddies, the lunatic fool.’
‘Then where should we go?’ said the shand, lumbering to her feet.
‘After him, I think. Got any better ideas?’
‘No,’ said Silver. ‘I imagine everyone will be far too occupied to notice us.’
They stepped out into the avenue of bars.
‘There are unicorns in that one,’ volunteered Silver, pointing. ‘We saw them being fed. And mermaids, I think, in a pool. They were given fish.’
‘Abu is a born collector, it seems.’
They passed a white dome, temple size. Close up, it was a large white egg, the lower third buried in the sand. There was a small hole in one end.
‘Laid by a bird?’ said Silver, indicating it with a thumb.
‘Search me. I wouldn’t put out crumbs for it. There’s another one over there. No—’
It wasn’t. It was, however, the derelict shell of the planetary lander from a Terminus probe. A memory arose in Kin unbidden, of an ancient copy of a still more ancient publicity film. It looked smaller in real life. There were three deep gashes in it, as though some great beast had tried to grab it.
Perhaps it had. If the thing beside it was an egg, something laid it.
The interior was a mess.
‘Jalo landed near the centre of the disc, at least,’ said Silver. Kin looked at the – oh, all right – call them talon marks, they could have been.
‘I don’t envy him,’ she said. ‘Our Abu is a genuine enthusiast, Silver. He never throws anything away.’
There were running feet behind them, and they turned to see two men gaping at them. One held a pike, and prodded it gingerly towards Silver. It was a mistake. The shand merely grabbed it behind the point and felled its holder with a vicious downward slash, bringing it back afterwards to knock the other man’s scurrying legs from under him.
Then she started running towards the palace, wielding the shattered shaft like a club.
Kin trailed after her. There didn’t seem any alternative.
They found Marco by following the screams.
There was a courtyard, and a mob of fighting men, and in the middle a blur behind a fence of swords. Marco was fighting five men at once, and seemed to be winning.
One man, who turned and found himself a few feet from Silver, slashed at her with desperate bravery. She blinked at him sleepily, then brought a fist down with vertebrae-crushing speed.
And all the time the sword sang. Kin had heard the phrase used poetically, but this one was singing – a weird electric ululation punctuated by clashes and screams.
Marco was holding it at arms’ length, almost cringing away from it. It moved of itself, darting from blade to blade, from blade to body, without appearing to pass through the intervening air. Blue light crackled along its edge.
Silver padded up to two men and hit them hard. Of the ones who turned to stare before running away, three keeled over as Marco took advantage of their distraction.
Alone in the courtyard, except for the dead, Marco sagged and dropped the sword. Kin picked it up and looked at its edge. It should have been bloody. It wasn’t. It was merely black, like a hole through the universe into something else.
‘It’s alive,’ said Marco sullenly. ‘I know you will scorn, but—’
‘What we have here’, said Kin loudly, ‘is merely a frictionless-coated blade with an electronic edge. The metal blade is merely a conductor. You must have seen similar things. Carving knives, for example?’
There was a pause. Marco nodded. ‘Of course you are right,’ he said.
‘Then let’s get the hell out of here!’
She oriented herself as best she could and made for the nearest flight of steps.
‘Where are you going?’ shouted Marco.
‘To find the magician!’ Before you do, she added to herself. I don’t want him killed. He’s the only way out of here.
She trotted through empty passages, heading upwards. A short flight of stairs looked familiar. She bounded up them, and there, at the end of a vaulted corridor, was the magician’s chamber.
Abu Ibn Infra sat pensively cross-legged on the magic carpet, watching her carefully over the top of thin, steepled fingers. Somewhat nearer the horse-faced shape of Azrifel crouched, splay-toed.
Kin glanced around the room. There was no one else there. Abu Ibn Infra spoke.
‘Why Have Your Creatures Attacked And Slaughtered My People?’ translated Azrifel.
‘We had expected better treatment,’ said Kin.
‘Why? You Come From The Place Of Thieves And Liars With Two Renegade Demons—’
‘They’re not demons,’ she said sharply. ‘They’re intelligent living creatures. They just happen to be of different races. Now, about that flying carpet—’
‘They Are Demons.’
Kin felt a gust of air from the far side of the room, and was in time to see two figures coalesce.
They were kung. Not perhaps perfect copies, and they moved curiously as if whatever had created them had aimed for kung shape without a knowledge of kung anatomy.
Abu had summoned demons to deal with her, and somewhere there was something that had observed that the kung shape was good for a fighter �
��
It had added disc touches. In battle kung usually carried no more than a short sword and a small blast deflector, leaving two arms for freelance throttling. These carried a weapon in each hand, and each one was different. One even twirled a morningstar.
It would be like being hit by colliding lawn-mowers.
Kin stared at the two expressionless faces, dead faces, and stopped herself from turning to run. She’d be running downstairs, with those behind her.
She raised the sword hopefully.
Something squirmed under her hand. Pain exploded up her arm and rattled her teeth. As the kung-things loped towards her the sword crackled.
Movement slowed. Through a pink glow Kin saw the demons slow as if they’d run into jelly, but there was no sound at all. Hate settled on her dreamily, comfortably, and she watched the sword come up with interest.
There was no shock when it drifted through an axe blade, and went on to shear through an arm – the flesh was grey, boneless and bloodless – and another sword.
She folded away from a snail’s-pace spear, and started a long slow leap that let her slice through a neck.
She swung her feet round in time to land lightly, twist, and let the sword sweep like a scythe.
Now there was a third enemy, backing away through the red mists. The sword jerked and Kin jumped, feeling her body curve behind the blade like the tail of a comet. It struck the figure in the chest, and Kin left it there.
She drifted on and into the wall, colliding gently with a faint prickling sensation. Then she began a lazy tumble to the floor, several miles away.
It had no right to hit her so hard.
She felt as though one side of her body was one long bruise. Her shoulder muscles were screaming. Her arm suggested that it had been dragged through a sieve.
For a blissful few seconds she was able to view the clamouring sensations objectively, looking into the kaleidoscope of her own head. Then subjectivity set in with a rush.
There was a slithering noise behind her, and a soft thud. With a certain amount of agony she turned her head to see Abu sprawled against the wall, with a long red smear above him.
Kin lay cherishing the coolness of the floor. Then she used her left arm, which merely ached horribly, to walk it on its fingers to the magician’s outflung hand. She uncurled his fingers from the lamp, and dragged it back until it was in front of her eyes.
Strata Page 16