by Mike Wild
Kali pounded along the remaining deck, legs thumping, arms pumping, her panting drowning out every other sound as she watched the Andon skyline bob before her. And then she was in the air.
She soared from the end of the ship, legs still pumping, arms windmilling as, behind her, the ship continued to be absorbed by the portal, but she was no longer interested in what was behind her, only what was in front and below. As the air whistled about her she tried to orientate herself enough to spot Slowhand and there he was, spurring Horse up the sixty degree slope of the roof of an Inn. And then, at full gallop, he spurred Horse off it so that the great beast seemed, momentarily, to be making a jump towards the heavens.
Then the pair of them disappeared.
Suddenly they were gone. Completely.
Oh crap.
She had recognised the disturbance in the air about Horse enough to know that he had just made one of his 'leaps' but she had no idea if the leap had been made by accident or design. Maybe Horse had simply panicked at what the archer had made him do, or maybe it had been a deliberate, if mistimed, attempt to somehow reach her.
Alone now, Kali watched the rooftops grow beneath her and tried not to anticipate the impact she would soon feel. It wasn't the first time she had been in a situation such as this but it was different. Falling from a suicide slide above the rooftops of Scholten was one thing but here she was, having leapt from somewhere almost forty stories high, and that was something else entirely.
Suddenly Horse appeared directly in front and a little below her, a roaring Slowhand on his back. The shock was so great that Kali almost dropped right past them thinking: Hey, that was neat. Then her survival instincts kicked in and she grabbed for the beast — and missed. Luckily, in the second she'd made her attempt, Horse's momentum had carried him slightly further forward and, with the aid of a horn that he suddenly thrust forward, she was able to flail and grab again, flinging herself up onto his back behind Slowhand. At the exact moment she did, all three of them succumbed to gravity and they fell.
The world disappeared around her.
Reappeared.
Horse impacted with the ground so hard that his hooves shattered the stone flagging.
But they were down.
Safe.
Almost.
"Thanks, Slowhand," Kali said, and leaving a stunned and naked archer behind, began to run off along the street.
"Where the hells are you going?"
Kali produced the prism from her equipment belt, waved it in the air.
"Have to see a man about a god!"
Chapter Eighteen
The sky above the Here There Be Flagons raged with a storm unlike any heard or seen before — a storm of turbulent, clashing clouds and roaring thunder, green forked lightning and a strange syrupy rain. The same storm as raged over Tarn raged over the rest of Pontaine and over the Anclas Territories and Vos too. Coast to coast as far as the Storm Wall, reaching every edge and every corner of the land to cleanse it of those who would have destroyed it. There was nowhere for these things — for the k'nid — to escape, because this was a storm visited on the land not by nature but supernature. A phenomenon born somewhere between the ancient magics and the final, doomed technological achievements of the Old Races.
The storm had raged for three days now, and would rage for three more. It was not a time to go out.
Watching the tumult at the windows of the Flagons, its violence muted by the thick glass and offset by the warm glow of the fire, Kali sipped from a tankard of thwack and reflected that the contrast between where she stood now and what she had seen and done in recent days couldn't have been more dramatic.
The crackling of the fire, the whinnying of horses from the stables and the simple talk around the bar — of work needed to repair the fields, of blacksmithing new tools and of the coming harvest — only served to heighten the difference between her world and that of the Old Races. There were no damned airships here, no damned mad scientist laboratories and, most importantly of all, no damned race against time. The pace was slower, gentler, and she realised how much she appreciated that right now. How much she needed it. That wasn't to say that she might not be off on her travels once again when the storm died down, but for the moment she needed time to think.
And, of course, to drink.
Kali downed the remainder of the thwack in one and went for another, squeezing in at the bar. She found one waiting for her, already poured by Red, who had volunteered to play host for the festivities; giving Dolorosa and Aldrededor a break from their usual duties, a break which Kali felt they had wholeheartedly earned. Red's displacement from barstool to his position behind the bar seemed to suit him, and despite the fact that the Flagons was jam-packed, he was doing sterling work.
Kali wandered through the crowd, nodding to those she knew and those whose acquaintance she had made in the past few days, pleased that she had invited them all here. The fact that the storm effectively stymied any normal outside activity had, to some, presented a problem. Namely, how to occupy themselves while it lasted, but the solution had seemed obvious to her.
Let's get betwattled.
At the Flagons.
On me.
Kali smiled. Her unusual tolerance for alcohol had, of course, given her the advantage in this prolonged session. Looking around now, it was clear that some of her guests were becoming somewhat the worse for wear. Sitting by the temporary stage, Jengo Pim and his lieutenants were waiting patiently for the appearance of the night's cabaret — if the slumped and, in some cases, face down on the table positions they had gradually adopted could be called waiting patiently. Still, they weren't completely out of it yet, stirring with a groan every time there was a creak on the stairs, only to collapse again despondently when the objects of their affections — Pim's, in particular — failed to appear. She could hardly blame the Hells' Bellies for taking their time in getting on stage. After all, they had been nowhere else for a week and they had only agreed to one final performance when, on his behalf, she had told them that Jengo Pim was their greatest admirer and fan. It hadn't hurt that the Grey Brigade's leader had personally agreed to treble their fee too.
Kali looked towards the crowded bar and smiled again. At first she had thought Poul Sonpear and his friends from the League were holding up — somewhat surprisingly — better than the streetwise, heavy drinking thieves, but now she saw that the mages were hardly playing fair. Sonpear himself appeared to be handling his drink naturally, standing tall amongst them, downing shot after shot, but his companions were clearly using a couple of old tricks to maintain the illusion that they were still one of the boys. Kali noticed the giveaway pink puff of smoke following a belch that denoted a sobriety spell and, further along the bar, two mages who were taller than when they had arrived, due only to the fact that they were hovering a few inches above the floor so as not to betray any unsteadiness on their feet. Kali moved past them, gave them both a nudge and they rose like balloons, crashing back to the floor when their heads hit the ceiling. She noticed as she did that Sonpear appeared to be muttering to himself between slugs. Ah, so that was it, she thought. He wasn't handling his drink naturally at all, it was the old Hollow Legs invocation.
Kali turned and crashed right into Dolorosa, who was weaving her way back from the bar with two more 'stalkers' for herself and Hetty Scrubb. The two women had been hitting the lethal cocktails — so named because they lurked before hitting you from behind — since the morning, and even the fact that both umbrellas flew out of the drinks in the collision didn't stop the Sarcrean making a narrow-eyed and dedicated beeline back to her seat, where she and Hetty continued cackling as if Kali had never been there. Kali shook her head, hoping that Aldrededor served up some food soon, not only because it might help to sober the old bat up but also slow her down so that she and the herbalist didn't bankrupt the Flagons with their drinking.
Kali nodded to Merrit Moon at a table further along the bar and then popped her head into the kitchen t
o see how Aldrededor was getting on. The Sarcrean had volunteered to cook, as everyone was heartily sick of Dolorosa's Surprise Stew after the batch she had prepared for Kali's memorial drinking session the week before.
"How goes it, Mister Pirate?"
Aldrededor looked up at her from the stove as he stirred, then bent, inhaling deeply from the cooking pot. "Ahhh, sproing, crackfish and limpods, everything the stomach of a true mariner could desire."
Kali smiled, and dipped a spoon for a sample. "At least you're willing to admit what's in it."
"Indeed. And in honour of these ingredients, I name it Seaman Stew."
Kali's smile froze, as did the spoon at her lips. "You know, Aldrededor. I might be tempted to have another think about that…"
"Oh?"
"You know. Think about it."
"Why should I think about it, Kali Hooper?"
Kali stared at him as he stared at her, wondering whether he was going to crack a smile. "Well, because…" She shrugged when there was no response. Maybe pirates had a different sense of humour, she thought. Or maybe, more worryingly, it was just her.
"I'll get Slowhand to explain it. See you later."
She returned to the bar, noticed that Pim and his men were once more staring in expectant hope at the stairs, and looked up herself to see what had caused the creak this time. Still no Hells Bellies but, as the thieves slumped once more, she smiled, seeing the one person who had so far been missing from the festivities. Though she had given Slowhand Jenna's bracelet in the yassan caves the night before they had left for the Crucible, the archer — perhaps so as not to be distracted from the task at hand — had decided not to activate it until now, and had spent the best part of the day watching his sister's recordings over and over. She had, every now and then, gone up to check on him, but had never made it through the door, Jenna's voice speaking so gently to Slowhand — of their childhood together — that she had felt it improper to intrude.
"Hey," she said, "fancy a drink?"
Slowhand nodded and smiled.
"Except there doesn't seem to be anywhere to sit."
"Not a problem," Kali said. She moved over to the bar and nudged two of Sonpear's hovering companions, so that they floated off across the tavern, clearing two stools. There was a belch and a pink puff from the mage next to them.
"Want to talk about?" Kali said.
Slowhand took a sip of thwack. "If you're asking if I'm all right, Hooper, yes, I am. It's funny but, despite her conditioning, Jenna remembered more of our early years than I did myself. Maybe that's the reason she was able to resist as she did, by holding those memories close."
"I wish there could have been more," Kali said softly. She hesitated. "'Liam, I'm sorry about what had to be done."
"Don't be. I'd have done the same myself. Besides, it was me who gave the order, wasn't it?" Slowhand downed more beer. "I found her too late, Hooper, but in a funny way I also found her in time. She would not have wanted to be what she had become and at least I helped her… not be."
Kali studied Slowhand. He wasn't quite as calm as he seemed to be, that she could tell, but she didn't think the reason was Jenna herself. No, there was a tension in his face that was more anger than grief, and it didn't take much to realise who that anger was directed towards. She wouldn't like to be in Querilous Fitch's shoes when her lover found him.
"Can we talk about something else?" Slowhand asked.
"Sure," Kali said, signalling for two more drinks from Red. "For one thing, I never got a chance to thank you for coming after me at Andon. That was quite a stunt with Horse."
"Don't mention it."
"There's one thing I don't get, though. Horse. How'd you manage to get him out of his sick bed — sick stable, I suppose?"
Slowhand produced a small vial from his pocket. "Essence of worgle. Swiped it from one of the laboratories in the Crucible. Here, have it."
Kali took the vial. "I'll save it for emergencies."
"Don't give him any more than a drop, though. It makes him frisky."
Kali laughed but the sound was drowned out by a sudden clamouring from Jengo Pim and his men, the thumping of hands on table. She and Slowhand looked over and saw that they were staring at the stairs and, this time, with good reason. The Hells Bellies musicians were descending the creaking risers, and where musicians came the Hells Bellies themselves could not be far behind. Jengo Pim was on his feet now, his tongue hanging out, applauding loudly as a female leg appeared at the top of the stairs. The leg was followed by its owner and then the rest of the dancing troupe. And then Jengo Pim's applause stopped and the thief collapsed back into his chair, his arms hanging limp by his side. Seeing this, Kali almost choked on her thwack, because she had never seen a man look so crestfallen.
The reason for Pim's dramatic disappointment was the equally dramatic difference in the Hells' Bellies since he had last seen them. Because each of his beloved dancers must have shed at least twenty stone, the obvious result of a week's hoofing to stay the advance of the k'nid. They were now, Kali had to admit, really quite elfin, and their new stage costumes — made, it seemed, from the pockets of their old — while not making much of an impression on Pim, had certainly got the attention of the rest of the men in the Flagons.
The music started, the dancers began to dance, and the tavern didn't shake.
"At least the k'nid caused something good to happen," Kali said to Slowhand's back.
"What?"
"I said, at least the k'nid caused something good to happen," Kali repeated, cursing as Red poured beer over her hand. "Oh pits, Slowhand are you listening to me?"
The archer stared at the stage as the Hells' Bellies slithered provocatively through their old garters. "Of… course… I… am."
"Well, then — all that dancing," Kali persisted. "The dancing that stopped the k'nid?"
"Actually," Slowhand said slowly, "I don't think it was the dancing."
"What are you talking about? What else could it have been?"
"Remember that eerie wailing in the Crucible? The one that sounded like an old elven instrument…?"
It took Kali a second to register what he meant, but then she stared at the Hells' Bellies, or rather the stage behind them where the musicians were beamingly strumming and fiddling away. One on his old elven instrument.
The theralin?
Kali swallowed. "You think that I made them dance all week for nothing?"
"Yup."
"My Gods, they'll kill me."
"Ah well, never mind."
"What the hells do you mean, 'ah well, never mind'?" Kali protested. She looked towards the stage again, where the dancers were now slithering two at a time through their garters, a manoeuvre that evidently required them to slither rather slowly over each other as well. "Oh, fark it, you're not listening again, are you? ARE YOU?"
Kali shook her head and gave up. She grabbed her thwack and left the bar, debating whether to chance her arm in the bragging barrel while everyone else seemed occupied. But then she caught sight of Merrit Moon, the old man sitting exactly where she'd seen him last, alone at a table at the far end of the bar, and looking as if he wasn't enjoying the festivities at all.
No, she realised. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying himself. He was concentrating on what was in his hand.
Ah. So that was it.
The fact was, the essence of worgle hadn't been the only essence that had been taken from the Crucible, she herself having removed a sample from that part of the laboratory that dealt with human specimens. And she had taken it to give to the old man. She didn't know whether it would be of any help to him, but she figured there had to be some link between the body-changing experiments at the Crucible and the Scythe Stone that had originally transformed Moon into the half-ogur he now was. The point was, she thought it might help him in his own experiments to find a full cure for himself — or thought it worth a chance anyway. But by the look of things it hadn't been.
"No good?" she asked, slipping i
nto a seat opposite him and nodding at the vial he was rolling between his hands.
Merrit Moon looked up from it slowly.
"On the contrary, young lady. This essence is really quite potent, far more powerful in its capabilities than that responsible for my original condition. I imagine, in fact, that were I to imbibe it, it would effectively eradicate all ogur tendencies within my body."
Whatever answer Kali had been expecting, it wasn't that and she sat back, stunned.
"What? You're joking, right?"
"I wish I were. Because then I wouldn't be facing this dilemma."
"What dilemma? For pit's sake, it's what you've been looking for, old man. Knock it back! Hells, I'll even get you a brolly for it!"
"No. The time is not yet right."
"What the hells do you mean, not right? Why?"
The old man stared her straight in the eyes.
"Perhaps because there is something you're not telling me."
Kali tried her best to hold his gaze, swallowing slightly. "What's to tell? We won and the k'nid are gone or, at any rate, will be soon. Slowhand and I saw them starting to dissolve on the way here from Andon. And the Tharnak's safe in the Expanse. Hells, Sonpear even told me that when the portal closed the Expanse reverted to a state of stasis, so the ship didn't even crash!" She smiled in a way she hoped would bring the conversation to an end. "Let's hope we never need it, eh, old man?"
"But we will, won't we young lady?"
"What do you mean?"
"What are you not telling me?"
Kali stood up. "Look, will you stop it. It's a day for celebration, so why don't we celebrate okay? Enough talk about the end of the farking world."
Moon raised his eyebrows. "Did I mention the end of the world?"
"No, but… oh, look, I don't want to hear any more — really I don't!" Kali shouted, much to Moon's surprise. "I mean, why me, why Kali Hooper, or whatever the hells my true name is? All I ever wanted to do was get drunk, find places and poke around in the dark. Instead, what do I find? That I'm some kind of demi-human, that you died and became some half-ogur thing, that Horse isn't a horse, that Slowhand's sister died, and now — now…"