The Bull Demon, however, she could hear. It spoke in what she suspected was the language of Xembala, in a rumbling, hissing voice like hot stones tossed into water.
“What does it say?” Gaunt asked the nun beside her.
“‘I am so cold,’ it says,” the nun replied, as she made gestures against evil. “‘Let the high lama warm me.’”
“Where is the flying carpet?” Bone asked. “Where is Deadfall?”
“I do not see it,” Gaunt realized.
There was more talking. A voice was raised, a woman’s voice, and Gaunt realized the robed figure helping secure the lama was the woman Bone had called Dolma. The Bull Demon roared back.
“The demon says, ‘You cannot bargain with me,’” the nun relayed. “‘I will promise nothing. With the high lama in my maw, the valley is mine to control.’”
More talk.
“Now the demon says, ‘You lost your right to bargain when you came to the place of my power. You may be able to resist the Charstalkers, but I have other servants.’”
And a great flapping arose, and unearthly shapes descended into the caldera. They were winged nightmares of dark metal, four-winged and dozen-legged, spikes covering their faces. The wings swirled with what might have been celestial symbols—comets, stars, nebulae. A red glow suffused them. There were perhaps a hundred, and they surrounded the tents.
“No,” Widow Zheng said.
The Bull Demon laughed.
The nun, her voice losing some of its composure, relayed, “‘My power waxes and the Iron Moths can no longer resist my Charstalkers. Give up the high lama, now. Slave Katta, lead her to me.’”
“We must stop this,” Gaunt said.
“We will,” said Rabten. He snapped orders in Xembalan, and his people rose. “Help us if you can, but this is our fight.”
The Xembalans rushed toward the Iron Moths and their lost leader.
Gaunt called to Steelfox and Jewelwolf. “You are the best archers we have. Can you each hit one of the Bull Demon’s eyes?”
“Of course,” Steelfox said.
“But what point is there in that?” Jewelwolf said.
“Distraction,” Steelfox said.
Arrows flew and plinked off the giant rubies. The Bull Demon roared. The great boulder shifted and regarded the newcomers.
The distraction worked. The high lama broke free of Mad Katta, while Dolma seemed unwilling to keep her. Chodak ran beside the river of lava, chased by others of the Fraternity, but an Iron Moth got to her first. Rabten and two monks tackled the Moth, which rose into the sky to shake them off.
The three fell into the lava and were lost.
Gaunt watched, horrified. But Chodak was free and running toward them.
Bone was already sprinting to protect Chodak, as more Charstalker-possessed Iron Moths flew her way and robed figures continued to chase. All the other Xembalans were engaged with the Moths or the Fraternity. It was the foreigners’ moment.
Gaunt said, “Archers, concentrate on the Fraternity. They’re flesh. Snow Pine, I suspect you have the only weapon that can harm Iron Moths. Engage them. Haytham, Flint, Quilldrake, do what you can to guard the high lama.”
“I am willing,” Haytham said. “But where are Quilldrake and Flint?”
Steelfox heard her inventor ask the whereabouts of the treasure hunters, but she had no time to wonder at their absence. She picked off three of the Fraternity, then fired an arrow at the Charstalker-taken Iron Moth that now closed on the lama. This seemed to have no effect, nor did her sister’s own arrow. They tried again, to no avail, although Steelfox did have the impression the creature noticed them and was angered.
It was like old times, in a way, when the sisters might have competed together in games of archery and riding. It had been too long since Steelfox had ridden a horse. It had been too long since she’d seen the steppes. Too long since she’d felt like a sister.
“Quit daydreaming,” Jewelwolf said. “Aim for the eyes.”
“Those are much smaller than the ones on the Bull Demon.”
“Always excuses.”
Steelfox hissed and fired. She hit an eye. Jewelwolf did likewise. The Moth, or perhaps the Charstalker within, seemed enraged. It bypassed the high lama and came directly toward the Karvaks.
Persimmon Gaunt shouted, “Northwing! Can you affect these creatures?”
“I will try . . .”
But before anything else could occur, Widow Zheng had walked into the Iron Moth’s path, hands raised.
The Iron Moth paused.
“You know me,” Zheng said. “Or you know of me. I was Xia. I saved your ancestors. Do not harm my companions.”
The Iron Moth landed, halted, shook like a taut sail in a strong wind. The Charstalker blaze surrounding it grew brighter. Bit by bit the quivering Moth came closer to Zheng.
Northwing said, “I have it.”
The Moth fell, twelve legs flailing.
Jewelwolf aimed at it.
“Wait!” Steelfox said. “If the shaman has control, it could be a useful tool.”
“As you wish.” Jewelwolf shot instead at a member of the Fraternity headed toward the high lama. Steelfox followed suit.
As the arrows hit, Snow Pine charged up to another Moth and swung her staff. With a sound of thunder the Moth careened back. Gaunt and Bone joined Snow Pine, each with daggers out. Haytham had his arm around the high lama.
“This is foolishness,” Jewelwolf said, readying another arrow. “The human warriors are one thing. But these people cannot stop otherworldly monsters.”
“What would you suggest?” Steelfox asked.
“I do not suggest. I act.”
Jewelwolf shot an arrow at the high lama. The woman fell.
“No!” Xia cried and ran to the lama’s side. Northwing struggled to control the Iron Moth.
Steelfox whirled to her sister. “Are you mad?”
“Hardly. If the lama dies, she will reincarnate somewhere. The Bull Demon will have no immediate way to claim her; thus Xembala is safe. And we may claim our prize. But I do not think she is finished yet.”
The high lama was being tended by Gaunt, Bone, and Haytham, while Snow Pine fought off an Iron Moth. Two more were coming.
Steelfox dropped her bow, drew her blade. “You won’t be finishing anyone.”
“I’m disappointed,” Jewelwolf said, keeping her bow and aiming at Steelfox. “But this moment was inevitable, was it not?”
“Give up your weapons, and you needn’t give up your life.”
“I never imagined you for a traitor, sister.”
“And I am not. I am loyal to our father’s dreams.”
“His dreams? The reality is that he chose me over you and would have made me ruler if not for the laws. Obey me now.”
“No. This is your last chance. You are alone.”
“I think not.” Jewelwolf tossed her bow and removed from her back not a shield but a bronze mirror, its back marked with astronomical symbols. It began to glow.
“Lady . . .” Northwing managed to say. “I am losing . . .”
The Iron Moth she’d been dominating rose and leapt toward her.
Steelfox did not hesitate. There was no fear. She ran to intercept the Iron Moth. Jewelwolf’s tricks must wait.
Her sword was good Karvak steel, and it got one fierce blow against the Moth before shattering. The next thing she knew, the entity was clubbing her with four separate legs, each like an iron staff. Light exploded in her eyes, and each burst seemed accompanied by the laughter of Jewelwolf.
Bone saw that Chodak was alive but gasping. The arrow might have grazed a lung. It surely had unleashed considerable blood. “Ma’am,” he said. “I’ve faced many injuries. I will help.”
“And I,” Haytham said, “I’ve studied with my land’s physicians.”
Chodak coughed. “Persimmon Gaunt. I give this to you.”
Beneath the high lama’s robes, spattered with her blood, was the saber named Crypt
tongue.
“I do not want it, Holiness,” Gaunt said.
“It wants you,” Chodak said. “I hear its whispers. It preferred the treasure hunter, but he has gone. You are here. Your karma and its are bound together.”
“Bone . . .” Gaunt said.
“I understand, Persimmon,” Bone said, letting intuition guide his words. He did not know what he’d say before it left his mouth. “I can’t tell you what to do. But whether or not you claim the sword, you’ve already claimed me.”
Gaunt looked to where Snow Pine fought for their lives, swinging Monkey’s staff again and again. Now a second Iron Moth arrived.
She took the bloody sword. Soon she was at Snow Pine’s side.
Bone wanted to join her, but he knew he’d be little assistance against the Moths. Here, he might help.
Haytham said, as he tore the fabric away from the puncture point. “Imago Bone, keep the high lama immobile whist I pull free the arrow.”
Bone nodded, feeling unexpectedly abashed at seeing a holy woman so exposed. The lama seemed less concerned with this than with her attacker. “I heard Princess Jewelwolf’s reasons. She has had a valid insight, I suspect . . . though I perhaps would not have applied it in quite that fashion . . .”
“Uh, Holiness,” said Bone, “We have to pull that arrow.”
“You’re quite right.” She smiled. “There is a famous parable to the effect that one should not question the design of the arrow, nor the identity of the shooter, before getting it out.”
“Whoever said that was wise,” Haytham said. “Hold still.”
“Yes, I would agree—ah!”
Chodak was sitting upright—with Bone supporting her and stanching her wound and Haytham holding a bloody arrow—when Zheng arrived.
Zheng knelt. “You . . . ,” Zheng said. “You were my prince, my Tashi.”
“Times have changed . . . my Xia. Xembala and I are not the same. The wheel turns.”
“I fled from you, ashamed of being a peasant in your land. I found my way to a town in the desert, now buried. I never saw you again, but I saw the Moths. They came in anger and rent the Silk Map. Greedy people ran off with most of the pieces. They tell stories up and down the braid, that you tore the dress. You are ill-served by such tales. I had not thought we would meet again.”
“In a sense we did not . . . still, karma endures, and we two are here.”
“If only . . .” Zheng looked wistful.
Chodak smiled. “If only we were not inside a demonic volcano . . . fighting for our lives?”
Zheng laughed. “Yes. That is what I meant.”
“May the Thresholders allow us to meet later. For now . . . I think you are the only one the Iron Moths will heed . . . and I think Steelfox needs you.”
Zheng nodded and departed. Chodak sighed back into Bone’s arms. Bone was startled by the transformation; one moment Chodak was bright with vitality, the next collapsing.
“Ma’am?” Bone said.
“There is considerable pain. . . . I will now practice a discipline in which I ask the Thresholders to let my suffering draw to itself the suffering of others . . . thereby granting solace to many around the world.”
“I do not understand.”
“What I mean is, I will be all right. . . . Haytham ibn Zakwan ibn Rihab is a fair physician. . . . Imago Bone, there is a woman who needs you . . .”
Bone looked up to see Gaunt fighting beside Snow Pine. The pair were actually holding their own. One Iron Moth had been felled, and each woman now faced another. Monkey’s staff cracked metal carapaces, and Crypttongue bit deep.
“That battle seems somewhat out of my league,” Bone said, “but I’ll do what I can.”
“No, I do not speak of your wife, Imago Bone. I speak of your countrywoman.”
Snow Pine hardly dared to admit to herself how much fun she was having. She should not—she thought in between thunderous blows against her opponents—wish to harm intelligent beings. The Fraternity of the Hare were misguided, but their motivation was love of country. And the creatures from the stars were possessed by demons of her own world. She should pity them, not grin as she smashed them, pounded them, knocked them into a river of lava.
But grin she did. From a life of submission to a life of banditry, from a retreat in an otherworldly monastery to an adventure across the world, she had never had such an opportunity to unleash all her fury. It was a peculiar joy.
She was glad to have Gaunt beside her, but it seemed to her Gaunt took less pleasure in the fight. Crypttongue flashed in the caldera’s strange light as the poet hacked and jabbed with grim focus.
Snow Pine wondered what price her friend was paying for such power.
But perhaps she should wonder about herself. The staff was hot and faintly glowing. A wild energy seized her, and she felled a new Iron Moth in one blow.
“Snow Pine!” Gaunt said. “Stay with me.”
Snow Pine only laughed, and the rhythm of battle danced her away from Gaunt and deeper into the fray.
Snow Pine’s departure left only Gaunt to protect the high lama, and she fought with fresh determination. Stabbing deep into an Iron Moth, she felt not one but two minds flow into the sword and babble their way into her consciousness.
She knelt, absorbing the strange sensations.
—suffer suffer I will make you pay—
<< discorporation unexpected >>
—you will scream in agony—
<< separation from Charstalker pleasing >>
—you will beg me for release—
<< loss of body not pleasing >>
—you have my eternal hate—
<< observation: nothing lasts forever >>
Despite the danger, the disorientation left her staring upward. Luckily Snow Pine seemed to be attracting all the possessed Iron Moths to herself. This pause allowed Gaunt to notice a dark shape dropping out of the sky.
It was the flying carpet, Deadfall.
It seemed to be coming right for her.
She raised the sword, covered with red and orange blood.
It did not seek her out but rather flapped toward Princess Jewelwolf, one corner folded down, red light flickering upon its knotwork.
“Mistress,” she heard it say.
Gaunt rose to stagger toward Jewelwolf, who was even now stepping upon the carpet, bearing the magical bronze mirror from the flying ger.
“Mistress, I have it. I have the thing the Cardinals hoped to claim.”
Gaunt got as far as Northwing, Zheng, and Steelfox. The three were facing down an Iron Moth. The shaman’s eyes were shut. The Karvak was bleeding in several places, but she was still alive, kneeling beside Zheng, and Zheng’s hand was thrust outward toward the Moth.
The Moth did not move; it was held in place by this combination of effort. But neither did the three women have the wherewithal to confront Jewelwolf.
“Mistress,” Deadfall was saying, “I have my full powers, and the Bull Demon is distracted. I was able to cross half the world and back again. Mistress, it is yours.”
—betrayer artifact it defies us—
<< intriguing metadimensional phenomenon in vicinity >>
Gaunt’s eyes widened as she lurched forward with Crypttongue. She could not believe what she thought she glimpsed. The skin on the back of her neck felt cold prickles, no matter that she stood in a volcano’s maw. Jewelwolf noticed her.
“No, poet and madwoman,” said the Karvak lady, stepping onto Deadfall and letting it bear her upward. “It is not for you. Nor is it for my sister. It is for one with vision. Keep your ironsilk.”
The Karvak extended her hand, and Deadfall’s folded corner revealed its prize.
“No,” Gaunt said.
Steelfox slowly came to her senses, realizing that her comrades (comrades?) had prevented the Iron Moth from slaying her. That left her free to do something, yes? Perhaps even stand up.
She stood up.
Yes, that was something. Zheng and Northwi
ng, in their different ways, were fully occupied with the Moth, but there was someone else here. Gaunt—Gaunt had that sword again this time. And Gaunt was confronting Steelfox’s little sister.
The princess’s wits began returning. She saw Jewelwolf rise into the air, and she recognized the magic carpet she had tangled with before. The red light dancing among its knots was reminiscent of the Charstalkers, but from Jewelwolf’s glee, Steelfox did not think it was the Bull Demon whom the carpet was serving just now.
Steelfox found her dropped bow. She picked it up, readied an arrow. General principle.
Persimmon Gaunt was saying something rather unexpected.
“Great Jewelwolf. I will grant you any service, any treasure, if you will only give your prize to me.”
But Steelfox already knew from her sister’s expression what the answer would be. For a moment a request flickered on Jewelwolf’s lips, and Steelfox wondered if it would have been, Then slay my sister. But conquest prevailed over rivalry. “This relic is not the true prize, as I think you well know. The true prize lies within. A prize that can shake an empire.”
Steelfox was not at all sure what was happening, but she was used to acting on hunches. It was a hunch that had led her to take on Northwing and Haytham, a hunch that had sent her chasing the Silk Map farther than her mother had likely wanted her to go.
A hunch that led her to fire up at the scroll of Qiangguo in Jewelwolf’s hand.
The shot flew true.
She had meant to hit the scroll so as to force Jewelwolf to drop it, without harming her sister. But the substance of the thing was surely no ordinary paper, for the arrow sparked and flew wildly across the caldera. Startled, Jewelwolf crouched as Deadfall rose higher, becoming a shield for her.
“Gaunt? What is the thing my sister holds?”
“It is my life, Steelfox, and Bone’s, and Snow Pine’s. I don’t know how it came to be here. But what I told Jewelwolf, I tell you. Help us get it back, and I am your servant.”
I collect interesting servants, Steelfox thought. “I do not know how to help. If only—Qurca!”
She still could not sense her falcon’s mind, but the falcon swooped through the strange thermals of the caldera and landed upon Steelfox’s outstretched glove.
The Silk Map Page 43