by Ian Whates
"Yes!" Applause from all quarters and even a few cheers; there was no doubting their support. Kat let out a ragged breath, surprised at how nervous she'd been. It was more than a year since she'd stood in front of the Tattooed Men and spoken like this, and even then Chavver had been beside her; this was the first time Kat had ever addressed them alone. Much of the pain might have been suppressed, but Charveve's absence was a blank space inside her and in the world around her, and she still hadn't figured out how she was supposed to live the rest of her life without her sister being there.
"Sorry to interrupt," said a mild voice from behind her. Kat spun around, to see somebody stepping from the shadows, a man she recognised. "But do you really want to wait until the Soul Thief returns, when you could go hunting for her now?"
"You!" It was the man who'd spoken to her outside Coalman's Chophouse, warning her about Brent. People were moving, weapons being drawn. Whoever this might be he was brave, or more likely stupid, to sneak into a meeting of the Tattooed Men, particularly so soon after all that had happened at Iron Grove Square. Kat jumped down from the table, which was too unstable if things turned nasty; her hand hovered by a sword hilt.
"Who the breck are you?" she demanded. "And don't hang around with the answer if you know what's good for you."
"Ah yes, introductions. Quite right." The man smiled. If he was intimidated by the situation he hid the fact brilliantly. "You are Kat, friend of Ty-gen and of Tom, sometimes Death Queen of the Tattooed Men, and I… am the prime master of Thaiburley."
"No brecking way!" Kat gawped.
There was movement behind the elderly man. More figures emerged from the shadows. Kite Guards, half a dozen of them, and first among them the officer she'd met in the streets, the one she presumed had saved her life at the grand conveyor.
"He's perfectly serious," that Kite Guard said. "This really is the prime master."
There was a surge of movement behind her; the soft sigh of steel gliding over steel from all around. M'gruth was suddenly at her side, clasping his drawn sword, and others with him.
The old man's smile hadn't wavered. "Please, we're not here to cause trouble, merely to put a proposal to you."
"We're listening," Kat assured him.
"Thank you. Perhaps if your friends would lower their weapons, just a little, we could all relax."
Kat glanced at M'gruth and nodded. Swords were dipped, though not sheathed; the Tattooed Men had no reason to love Thaiburley's masters, not when the city had sanctioned the Pits for so many years before eventually seeing fit to close them down.
"To be blunt, I need your help," the prime master said. "Thaiburley needs your help, and at the same time, I'm in a position to help you." That winning smile shone forth again. "So I'm proposing a trade, if you will, an agreement where we work together to help one another." Kat remained silent, waiting to hear him out. "I know you were caught up in the recent disturbances in the under-City, and that you played your part in securing a favourable outcome. What might come as a surprise to you is that the Dog Master wasn't working alone when he subverted the street-nicks. He had help from an even more dangerous enemy, a leftover from the war devoted to bringing down all of Thaiburley, without any consideration for how many lives might be lost in the process. And this villain, this enemy of the whole city, is hiding in the Stain. It's vital for the security of us all that he's dealt with before he can strike again."
"The Stain?" Kat laughed. "You're not seriously suggesting we go in there?"
"Oh, but I am. Not alone, of course. As I said, we work together, so this will be a joint undertaking: the Tattooed Men and a company of Kite Guards under the command of Captain Tylus here. Your mission will be twofold: to hunt down this ancient enemy and at the same time to take care of the Soul Thief once and for all."
Kat shook her head. "Sorry, not meaning any disrespect, but you must be mad if you think we'd go into the Stain, with or without your pretty fly-boys. Blundering around in there would be suicide."
"Agreed, but who said anything about blundering? What if I told you that Captain Tylus could lead you straight to the Soul Thief? Once the small matter of our wartime relic is dealt with, of course."
Kat looked sharply at the Kite Guard, the one she'd met before. "And how exactly would he manage that?"
"Somebody must have caught the Soul Thief with a weapon – a rope, a net, a whip – it doesn't really matter what, but this weapon would have had small jewel thorns imbedded in it."
Kat nodded confirmation.
"I don't know how you came by such a thing, since that's a specialised item fashioned by the arkademics, but it's our good fortune that you did. Some of those thorns have detached, as they're designed to, and have been absorbed into the creature's very substance. There's nothing it can do to get rid of them, they're now a part of the monster, and they're emitting a signal, one which will lead us straight to the Soul Thief no matter where it chooses to hide." Really? Kat made silent apology to Annie for ever doubting her. "We also have a small piece of our hidden enemy, recovered by Captain Tylus from the scene of the sun globe crash…"
"You mean this 'enemy' of yours was responsible for that?" Another score to settle, since the globe had fallen almost directly on top of her and Tom.
"Indeed." Was it her imagination, or was there a hint of satisfaction to the prime master's smile? She had the feeling he'd dropped the matter of the sun globe into the conversation to judge her reaction, perhaps suspecting she'd been there but wanting confirmation. Clever, very clever; she was going to have to be careful when dealing with this one.
"There'll be no blundering around," the prime master assured her. "We can pinpoint both targets, so this will be an incisive strike into hostile territory, taking out first one then the other, before pulling out again. Clean and simple."
Kat licked her upper lip. This was tempting, and he made it sound so simple. There was no Chavver to consult, no Rayul. She glanced quickly at M'gruth, who was as seasoned, experienced and level-headed a warrior as anyone could wish for. He gave a slight shake of his head, without ever looking away from the prime master. His negative backed up what her own gut was saying.
"Sorry, prime master, but even if we know where the target is, the Stain is still a living hell. We've taken some pretty heavy losses of late, and I don't think we want to be lining ourselves up for any more right now."
"I see. I'd heard the Tattooed Men are the most formidable warriors to be found in the City Below. Was I misinformed?"
"No, you were told right, but we're not stupid. No one knows all the nightmares that are hiding in the Stain, and we don't fancy being the first to find out. We're the best all right, but I'd want a lot more muscle behind me than even we could provide before I'd attempt to take on the Stain."
The prime master smiled broadly on hearing that. "Ah, I see. More muscle. Lucky for all of us then that I brought some along with me."
More shapes stepped forward from the shadows; half a dozen towering ebony figures. Every weapon the Tattooed Men carried rose in unison, as did a collective growl. Kat stared, overwhelmed by a confusion of awe and horror. "The Blade!"
"Yes. I'll put six of the Blade under your direct command until the mission is completed. Will that give you the extra firepower you were looking for?"
There was a general murmuring and shuffling of feet and harness around her. The Tattooed Men were responding as one, fight or flight instincts to the fore. Kat couldn't blame them. The Blade were a curse word anywhere in the City Below; the atrocities they'd been a party to while stationed here during the war had become the stuff of legend – bitter memories that ran deep. The prospect of being allied to them in any way was almost unthinkable. Yet if they genuinely represented a chance to put an end to the Soul Thief, could she afford to react as all her instincts were urging her to do and refuse them?
Every eye was focused on her and she knew this to be a crucial moment. First she and Chavver had commanded the Tattooed Men between them a
nd then her sister had done so alone. Now Kat stood here for the first time as their sole leader and immediately faced a decision daunting enough to test anyone. What she said now would define her future, determining whether or not she deserved to lead the Tattooed Men. If she asked the prime master for a moment to consult the older, wiser members of the group as she so wished to do, it would mark her as weak, unfit to command alone, while the wrong decision, however boldly taken, could lose her the confidence and support of her followers.
The different options didn't so much parade through her thoughts as flit and collide and rebound in a chaos of possibilities. Eventually she settled on one. It was a compromise of sorts, one which she hoped might satisfy everybody. More importantly, it satisfied her.
She smiled at the prime master, hoping she projected a level of confidence she only wished she felt. "All right then. As you may have heard just now, we've made a few plans of our own, plans to secure a more stable future, and I'm not willing to put those on hold to go traipsing off into the Stain. At the same time, I agree that this venture of yours might benefit all of us. So here's what I'm willing to do. I'll lead a dozen of the Tattooed Men into the Stain with your Kite Guards and your Blade, and we'll take out the Soul Thief and hunt down this enemy of yours. The rest of the Tattooed Men will stay here and set about establishing a territory in the streets, ready for when we come back again."
She sensed approval from the people around her, and hoped that wasn't just wishful thinking on her part. She'd made the choice which felt right to her, and reckoned that was as much as anyone could ask of her.
The prime master chuckled. "Ty-gen told me you were sharp. He wasn't exaggerating, was he? Very well, a dozen Tattooed Men matched by a similar number of Kite Guards and the Blade. Somehow, I suspect the denizens of the Stain are in for a shock."
"One more thing," Kat said quickly.
"Go on." The prime master replied in a voice that suggested she was in danger of trying his patience.
"The razzers have arrested a man, someone you know, an outsider name of Brent. We've a score to settle and I want him handed over to us."
For a taut second their two gazes locked. "Brent was taken into custody on my explicit order," the prime master said slowly. "We suspect him of being mixed up in all manner of things. It isn't the city's policy to use criminals as bargaining chips."
Damn, had Kat pushed things too far?
"However," and that warm smile returned. "Once we've finished interviewing him and are satisfied that he's told us all he can, we may well decide to exile him from Thaiburley rather than enforcing a custodial sentence. Should that prove to be the case, I could always make sure you were alerted as to the time and place of his release. Such details aren't considered secrets, after all."
Kat smiled and nodded. "Fair enough; then I think we might just have ourselves a deal."
They couldn't wake Dewar.
Mildra examined him and thought that he was all right physically, but he remained in a deep sleep. She didn't want to leave him but was convinced they were near to their goal and was desperate to continue. The man was too heavy to carry. In the end they pulled him into a more sheltered position and decided to leave him, reasoning that this was the only sensible thing to do. They wrapped him warmly and left a parcel of provisions beside his sleeping form, vowing to return once they'd found the river's source and take him back to Pilgrimage End somehow, whether he was awake or not.
They set out in subdued mood, recent events weighing heavy on both their minds, as Mildra demonstrated when she asked, "Do you think Ky was anything to do with Seth Bryant, or just an opportunist?"
"Opportunist, I reckon, and I don't suppose we're the first he's done this too."
"At least we know we'll be the last," Mildra said, which put him right back to thinking about what he'd done to Ky and Dewar, which both fascinated and frightened him. Simply leaving their erstwhile leader behind seemed wrong, especially as this wasn't the first time, but he couldn't think of an alternative.
Above the temple the river, now shrunk to a width no greater than two men lying head to toe, ran through a desolate landscape of grey brown rocks and ice. The air seemed incredibly clear and pure, and bitterly cold, while the sky was an impossibly bright blue. They came across a cluster of rusted tins and canisters and what might have been the remains of a sled; proof positive that people had been here before, though not recently by the look of it.
The river appeared to be leading them directly towards a sheer rock face, or perhaps ice face; it was now difficult to be certain where pale rock ended and muddied ice began. Sure enough, a little further and the frothing white waters disappeared under a low rock/ice ledge, or rather emerged from beneath it.
"An ice cave," Mildra murmured, before turning to him, her face aglow. "This is it, Tom, the source of the Thair, home of the goddess."
Tom did his best to respond with a smile, though in truth he found it hard to match her enthusiasm. He felt too tired, too cold, and too numbed.
At the cave's mouth a chunk of melting, permeated ice sat in the water, its sharp edge jutting skyward. It looked defiant and menacing – a warning of intent to any trespassers.
A narrow ledge ran into the ice cave on their side of the river, just above water level and all-but invisible until they were almost upon it. Without hesitation Mildra entered the cave, though she had to duck down to do so, as did Tom behind her. They were so close to the water that it was impossible for feet and legs not to get splashed time and again by the gushing, bubbling neo-river, so that socks and trouser legs were quickly soaked through and cold, while the very wall they were forced to press against radiated a level of chill that leached warmth from the body. Despite their thick clothing, Tom's face, hands and feet soon felt so frozen that he was convinced they'd never fully thaw again. Under any other circumstances he might have given up and insisted they turn back, but after all the two of them been through to get here, that would have been ridiculous. So he pressed on, increasingly concerned that neither of them were likely to leave this ice cave alive, that their strength would run out before this tunnel did.
Just when it reached the point where he didn't think he could take the cold or his back aching, or his legs hurting from the cold and the demands of this new bentover form of walking, the wall beside him vanished, and the claustrophobic presence of rock and ice so close above his head lifted. He and Mildra were both able to stand straight again; tentatively at first, as if not quite able to believe they were able to do so, but they did.
"Some sort of chamber," Mildra said, almost whispering.
Tom knew how she felt; it was if they had stumbled into some mystical grotto where no mere humans were meant to tread. But another matter concerned him more. "How come we can see?" he wondered aloud. "Where's the light coming from?"
"No idea."
It seemed to emanate from all around them. A soft, pale, bluish and appropriately icy light. They could see, and they could stand straight again, but it was still bitterly cold.
The chamber was a small one. The frothing water vanished beneath another wall, this one appearing to be far less ambiguous; it was clearly a sheet of ice rather than rock. Mildra was already examining it and beckoned him over.
"Look at this."
Embedded in the wall, at around shoulder height to Tom, was the outline of a human hand. The indentation was obvious when you stood close to it, but from six or seven steps away it was invisible, with nothing to differentiate it from the rest of the ice.
"What do you think it is?" he asked.
"A door," Mildra replied instantly. "I think a hand pressed into this will open some sort of door, one which we can't even see as yet."
The two looked at each other. "You try," Tom said. "Since this is your goddess we're supposed to be visiting."
"True," and she smiled. "But I think this is something you have to do. After all, you're the one the prime master sent here. I just came along for the ride."
&nb
sp; Tom raised his eyebrows, wishing he could argue the point, but instead he reached forward to press his right hand firmly into the depression. He was grateful for the glove. Without it, his hand would probably be frozen in place.
Nothing happened.
"I think it's supposed to be done with a naked hand, Tom," Mildra said quietly.
Unfortunately, Tom had a feeling she was right. Taking a deep breath, he pulled off the glove, spread his fingers and, before he could think about what he was doing, pressed firmly against the indentation, which was larger all round that his actual hand. There was no give, in fact no obvious response at all. To his considerable surprise, there was no sense of cold either. Perhaps, despite appearances, this wasn't ice after all.