With that, he broke cover, dragging Lon with him. The Sisters followed close on their heels. They charged through the dense red miasma, hid, looked around, ran again. Once Phaeca saw a dark shape lumbering at the limit of their vision, a mist-ghost that she swore was a ghaureg; but it did not appear again, and they had no choice but to go on. There would never be any better conditions for an infiltration.
Eventually they reached the wall of the pall-pits. It loomed out of the red fog before them, resolving into detail as they neared, a grotesque hybrid of stone and plates of metal. With Lon in the lead, they skirted round the curve of the wall, eyes straining for any sight of Aberrant guards in the swirling murk.
But fortune was with them once again: they reached Lon's secret entrance without being spotted. It was a square hole in the wall, where a panel had either come loose or been ripped off, hidden behind a pile of rubble and joists. Lon paused at it, looked pleadingly at Juto.
'It's the demons,' he whispered.
'Get inside!' Juto snapped, and they crawled through and into the pall-pits.
EIGHT
The murk was so heavy inside the pits that it was all Kaiku could do not to retch. Her eyes teared and became bloodshot, and her skin crawled. Her kana was ridding her body of the impurities she was breathing, and it was literally seeping out of her pores. She wanted nothing more than to be gone from here; but she had a task to complete, and there was no turning back now.
The tiers were mazed with huge pipes, or cut through with trenches. While it made picking their way to the centre a complicated task, it also kept them well hidden as long as they crouched. It was barely possible to see the next tier down anyway, and the pits themselves were only visible as a fierce red haze. They headed to the right side of one of the ramps that ran from the edge to the smoking abyss. While it would provide the most direct route, it was too exposed to travel on, and they found themselves wondering why it was so smooth and featureless when every other part of the pallpits was so densely packed.
Lon knew his way, it seemed, however reluctant he was to follow it. He led them between bellowing furnaces that made the Sisters shy away; down steps of metal that clanked underneath their shoes; past slowly rotating cogs that rumbled threateningly. Kaiku had been near Weaver machinery before, but the din threatened to overwhelm her. She would have clapped her hands over her ears to shut it out, if she thought it would have done any good.
The murk seemed to be getting thicker as they descended, and with it a steadily growing sense of something… other. The Sisters exchanged a glance; they both felt it. Lon had not been lying: there were demons here. Even keeping their kana reined tightly, it was impossible not to register their presence in the Weave. It became more pronounced as they neared the centre of the pit; a vast and infantile malevolence, beyond human understanding, brooding in the depths. The feya-kori.
'They're here,' she said quietly.
'As promised,' Juto replied.
Phaeca was getting as jumpy as Lon now; Kaiku could see her out of the corner of her eye, starting violently whenever a swirl in the fog suggested the shape of an enemy. Despite her nausea and the fear of her surroundings, Kaiku was more experienced at this kind of thing than Phaeca was, and she held her nerve more steadily.
'Be calm, Phaeca,' she murmured. 'I will do the work. You have only to conceal me.'
'Gods, there's something wrong,' Phaeca replied, her angular face rendered sinister by the light. 'There's something wrong.'
'I know,' Kaiku replied. 'Let us do what we have to and be gone.'
They clambered down a ladder onto the lowest tier, and their surroundings opened out fractionally. There were fewer pipes here, only a few hulking metal chambers of some kind, and just visible across a short expanse of metallic flooring was a railing, beyond which a raging torrent of red smoke churned upward. The bellow of the furnaces all around the interior edge of the pit was deafening.
'Close enough for you?' Juto cried over the noise.
Kaiku gave him a look and disdained to respond. She walked to the railing, Phaeca trailing at her heels, and looked down. The smoke stung her eyes abominably. She blinked and turned away to Phaeca.
'Are you ready?'
Phaeca nodded.
'Then let us begin.'
They eased into the Weave together, subtle as a needle into satin.
This time, there was little of the euphoria that usually attended entry into the golden stitchwork of reality. Instead, a cold ugliness swamped the Sisters, emanating from all around, dimming the shine of the threads that sewed through their surroundings. The pall-pit before them was a black abyss of corruption, a dreadful tangle of fibres that sucked and boiled, concealing all within. Here in the Weave, the presence of the demons was more terrifying still: immense, dormant monstrosities just below the surface of their sight.
Dormant, and yet becoming less so. For now the Sisters realised that their growing awareness of the feya-kori had not been because they were getting nearer to their targets. It was because the demons were waking up.
'Oh, gods, Kaiku,' Phaeca said aloud.
((Stay with me)) came the reply across the Weave, phrased without words. ((We have time))
Phaeca, despite her terror, did not falter. She knitted the Weave around them, blending them into its warp and weft, deadening the faint emanations of their presence. Kaiku was going to have to use her kana if they were to learn anything about the demons, and while she would make every effort to be as delicate as possible, it would still draw Weavers. Phaeca's job was to disguise them as best she could.
Kaiku fought to keep her composure amid the swelling awareness of the feya-kori. A part of her was sorting the implications of their situation even as she sent her kana into the pall-pit. The feya-kori could not have known they were here; they were not even using their powers to any appreciable degree when the murk began to descend. She refused to believe that the creatures were waking up in response to the Sisters' presence. Part of her thought that it was a trap, that the demons knew they were coming; but who could lay such a trap? Certainly not Lon, who was plainly terrified, and not Juto, who was in as much danger as all of them if the demons emerged before they had time to get away.
Nomoru?
She did not dare to think about it further. Gently, she subsumed her consciousness in the greasy plethora of the pall-pit. It cloyed and stroked at her, making her feel befouled. She ignored the discomfort and concentrated on reading the threads, following thousands of them at once, mapping the contours of their movements, picking them apart to understand their composure and purpose. She could feel Phaeca's presence behind her, brushing away her trail with consummate artistry. And in the depths, she could sense something massive stirring, and prayed it was only a murmur in the demon's sleep.
The belching smoke in the pall-pit was heavy with metals and poison. Kaiku set herself to tracing it, seeking out its source. She slid through vents, down black, churning pipes, spreading out across the city. Phaeca sent her a warning resonation, indicating that she would not be able to disguise Kaiku if she dispersed her kana so widely. Kaiku drew back, limited herself to following only a dozen or so routes. She felt suddenly irritated that she had been checked by her companion: she had a scent, and a suspicion was growing in her mind that she was eager to prove.
She followed it back to the factories, the grub-like buildings of the Weavers where men laboured, uncertain as to what they were producing. But Kaiku saw now. What they were producing was the smoke. It was piped from the buildings to the pall-pits, into a steam-driven system of gates and vents and airlocks and furnaces that regulated pressure and heat and refined the raw pollution into an even more concentrated form. And what ended up in the pall-pits was not like normal smoke.
It was congealing.
The awakening of the feya-kori was sudden and terrible. Kaiku felt the Weave bunch around her, drawing inward around the pall-pit, and a huge and baleful mind uncovered itself as if an eye had blinked open, drench
ing the Sisters in a wave of hostility. Kaiku pulled away, caring nothing for subtlety now, only wanting to escape the pall-pit before her kana became ensnared in the demon. She could not be sure whether they had noticed her or not, so minuscule was she to its attention; but their course was clear either way. They had to go. The smoke in the pit was thickening to a solid, and the feya-kori were coming.
She and Phaeca returned to themselves at the same moment. Perhaps seconds had passed in the world of human perception: Juto and Lon were still watching them expectantly. The Sisters twisted away from the barrier, their kana-reddened eyes wide in alarm, and in that instant a colossal arm of rank and foetid sludge reared out of the pall-pit behind them. Kaiku saw the horror on the faces of the two men, felt the sickening weight of inevitability as the arm descended…
It crashed down on the edge of the pall-pit, several metres to their right.
Kaiku did not even have time to feel relief that it had missed her. The need to escape was overwhelming. She could hear the hissing as the demon dripped and spattered over the metal, could sense the force of its presence emanating from the pall-pit. It was climbing out.
Juto and Lon had already turned to run, but they stopped still even as the Sisters did. Someone was blocking their escape.
Nomoru.
She stood at the foot of the ladder to the next tier, her rifle at her shoulder, trained on Lon. Thin and dishevelled as she was, the hateful expression on her face in the red light convinced them that hers was not a threat to be taken lightly. Juto's own rifle was up in a heartbeat, trained on the scout.
'What's this?' he demanded.
'Nomoru!' Kaiku cried. 'We have to get out of here!'
'Not him,' she said, tipping her head at Lon. 'The rest of you go.'
Behind them, a dreadful moan issued from the depths of the pit. The blunted arm-stump of the demon compressed as it took the weight of the body below. From the second pallpit, away to their right, an echoing answer came.
'Heart's blood, Nomoru, we will all die here! Deal with this later!'
'Won't be a later,' she said, her voice steely calm, her tangled hair flapping around in the updrafts. 'Weavers and Aberrants everywhere. He knows.' She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Lon. 'Sold us out. Like he sold me out before.'
Kaiku went cold. Lon staggered, his knees suddenly going weak.
'Thought I didn't remember?' Nomoru called over the bellow of the furnaces. 'Thought I was too drugged on root to realise? You gave me to them.'
'Put it down, Nomoru!' Juto said through gritted teeth. 'Whatever you think he's done, if you fire that rifle, you'll be dead before he hits the ground.'
'Never thought you'd see me again, did you?' Nomoru continued, ignoring Juto, focused only on Lon. 'Didn't expect me back. Thought maybe you'd be able to get rid of me. At the same time you got rid of all the others. Juto included.'
'Nomoru…' Juto warned.
'Fixed the obstruction in my rifle,' she said to Lon. 'It'll fire now without blowing up and killing me. Thought you should know.'
'It didn't happen like that!' Lon cried. 'They came for me! I got away, but you were too drugged. You'd smoked too much! I never sold you.'
Phaeca jumped with a shriek as another of the feya-kori's massive arms crashed onto the lower tier of the pall-pit. Through the murk they could see the second one as an enormous silhouette, swelling from the ground as it pulled its body up. The position of the nearer demon's hand-stumps showed that it was clambering out to their right, far too close. At the bottom of the ramp which, they realised in a belated flash, was the the feya-kori's way in and out of the pit.
'Come on!' she shouted at Kaiku over the din. 'Let's go!'
'Not without her,' Kaiku replied, her hair lashing about her face.
'What do you care about her?' Phaeca howled.
'She is one of us,' Kaiku said simply.
'Put it down!' Juto roared, even as Lon tried again to explain to Nomoru what had happened that day, when she had been taken as an adolescent and brought to the Weave-lord Vyrrch, whom she had evaded for days before fortune allowed her to escape during the kidnapping of Lucia from the Imperial Keep.
'You want proof?' she said to Juto. 'Had to wait till I had proof. Went looking around. Weavers are hiding here. Waiting for his signal. He led us to them.'
'No, no!' Lon cringed, almost in tears. 'He sold you! He did!'
He was pointing at Juto, whose face was a hideous rictus of anger. 'Why you gods-damned cur! You'd lie to save your own skin?'
'He's not lying,' Phaeca said.
'What do you know, you cursed she-Weaver?' he hollered over his shoulder.
'You're not a good liar. It's in your eyes,' she replied. 'He's telling the truth.'
A great, dreary moan rose from the pall-pit, and metal screeched as it took the strain of the demon beneath. Nomoru's gaze had moved from Lon for the first time, and was on Juto now. Kaiku dared not look away, but she could sense the massive shape of the feya-kori rising from the pall-pit over her shoulder, could smell its abominable stench.
'You?' Nomoru hissed.
Juto deliberated for an instant, then decided that pretence was not worth it any more. 'You were becoming a root addict, just like your mother. A liability. We could spare you, and it never hurts to be on the Weavers' good side.' He grinned. 'And since your friends over there can't use their powers without giving themselves away, and their rifles are useless like yours was, I think that gives me the advantage.' And with that, he squeezed the trigger and fired.
Kaiku did not even think. Time crushed to a treacly crawl. She was in the Weave before the ignition powder had sparked, was flashing across the distance between them before the ball had left the end of the barrel, and had caught it and torn it apart before it reached Nomoru.
She only just made it. The ball exploded a few inches from the side of Nomoru's face, peppering her in burning fragments of iron and lead. The shot that had fired from her gun towards Lon suffered no such intercession: it hit him dead centre in the forehead and blew out through the back of his head in a crimson spray.
Time snapped into rhythm again. Nomoru flailed backward into the ladder, her hand flying to her face, one side of which was a lashwork of blood. Lon fell to the ground. Juto looked shocked, unable to understand why his target was still on her feet. Then he turned to the Sisters in realisation.
And from above them, a doleful groan, and the Sisters looked up to see the feya-kori towering to their right, half-out of the pit, a slimy mass in the suggestion of a humanoid shape, with a mere bulge for its head in which two yellow orbs fizzed and blazed. Those eyes were turned upon them now.
'Gods,' Phaeca whispered. 'Run!'
Nobody needed another prompt this time. Juto shoved Nomoru aside and clambered up the ladder and away; Nomoru scrambled after him in enraged pursuit, and the Sisters followed. They ran low, hiding themselves in the maze of obscuring pipes, shrinking under the dread regard of the demon. Nomoru was screaming at Juto, who was darting away ahead of them; she was still bent on revenge, apparently careless of the danger they were all in.
The feya-kori dragged its hindquarters out of the pall-pit, emerging from the column of red smoke, rising to its full height of forty feet at the shoulder. Its companion gave a cry, and it responded; then, with a slow and langourous movement, it swept one enormous arm down to crush the four little humans that fled from it.
They felt it coming, sensed the fog sucked away to either side as the stump came towards them, and they scattered. Nomoru threw herself beneath some enormous pressure chamber that was like a barrel of metal in a cradle; the Sisters flattened themselves against a rack of pipes; Juto ran on, seeking to outdistance the blow. The hand slapped down, spraying its acid vileness across the tier. It crashed into furnaces that buckled with the force and blasted steam and burning slag out in furious plumes. But its aim was poor, for they were hidden and it was only guessing where they were; though iron was bent and melted mere feet from Kaiku and P
haeca, they were unharmed.
The Weave was suddenly alive, heavy with activity. Nomoru had not been wrong: it was an ambush. Weavers were here, close by. Phaeca and Kaiku had not noticed them till now, since they were reining in their kana and the Weavers were hiding themselves. The Sisters knitted themselves into their surroundings, trying to become invisible to the searchers; but Kaiku's violent use of the Weave in saving Nomoru had given the game away, and they could not hide for long when the Weavers were on the scent.
Yet across it all was the huge and disorientating presence of the feya-kori, throwing the Weave into disarray. They were simply too massive to work around; they influenced everything with an overwhelming force, confusing the Weavers and the Sisters equally.
The Sisters did not dare to move. They could feel the feya-kori searching for them, like a piqued child looking for ants to squash, its gaze sweeping the pall-pits. Kaiku's heart pounded in an agony of expectation.
Then she saw Juto, spotted him through the buckled pipes before them. He was climbing up to the next tier, still running from the demon. And there at the top of the steps Kaiku saw a pair of Weavers, their Masks turning as they scanned for their quarries. If there had been any doubt as to Nomoru's story, it was dispelled by the sight of Juto heading up towards them, hailing them as he went.
The feya-kori lumbered past them to their right, its steps accompanied by a shriek of metal as it stamped the landscape of the pall-pit flat. It had stepped off the ramp and onto the tiers. Heading for Juto.
He looked back in alarm, clambered up the last of the stairs so he was standing near the Weavers. It was evident that he thought it would provide some kind of sanctuary. He was wrong. The feya-kori's stump crashed down onto him in a geyser of sludge, turning Juto and the Weavers alike into burning pulp.
The Weavers' death-cry rolled across the Weave like thunder. Kaiku and Phaeca used its wake to dig themselves deeper into concealment, evading the frustrated minds that searched for them. The Weavers were distressed by the loss of two of their number. Kaiku found strength in that. She remembered Lon's reaction to the descending fog, and Juto's strange and mistaken certainty that it was nothing to do with the feya-kori. Matching that with the circumstances of the Weaver's ambush, she could only draw one conclusion. Neither the men who had betrayed them nor the Weavers who lay in wait had known that the demons were going to emerge.
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