The Blood Debt: Books of the Cataclysm Two

by Sean Williams

  “It's the Caduceus. I glimpsed it as Pirelius brought us to the cells.”

  “It's the source of the sink, right?”

  “Yes, only it doesn't seem to be working now.” Her broken-nailed hand stroked a hole in the side of the stalagmite. “Part of it's missing.”

  “Kail has it.”

  “What's he doing here?” asked Skender.

  “Marmion sent him to keep an eye on us.”

  “Well, he's not doing a very good job.”

  “I don't know where he is, but I'm sure he'll catch up eventually. He can handle himself.” Sal looked uncertain for a moment. “Come on. Through here.”

  Skender's mother pulled herself away from the stalagmite with obvious difficulty, her need to study the artefact stronger than her fear of being recaptured. Skender took her full weight again as they resumed their hurried exit.

  “Dad always said that your curiosity would get you into trouble one day.”

  “And I've always known he was right.” She laughed softly. “But it worked out in the end, didn't it? We found what we were looking for. Our understanding of the world will increase accordingly.”

  Skender glanced behind him at the twins toiling steadily under the weight of Shom Behenna. He was keen to find out how she had known about their return to the world and what she had hoped to learn from them. But just then wasn't the time for an interrogation. She obviously wasn't keen to talk about it with everyone around.

  “I hope it was worth it,” he said.

  “Absolutely.” She squeezed his arm. “You'll have to tell me later how you got past Pirelius and his thugs. When they ambushed us, we didn't stand a chance.”

  Skender was about to say that he hadn't, in fact, got past her captors at all, and that he had the bruises to show for it, but Sal made shushing noises from the head of the party and he took the hint. They were still in enemy territory and could easily be captured again if they weren't careful.

  The route they followed led along exactly the sort of tunnels Skender had been looking for under Laure. He was gratified to that extent, but he still felt slightly stupid for searching the wrong side of the Divide. If he'd had Tom with him from the start—or just Tom's ability to glimpse the future—things might have gone very differently.

  He idly wondered what it would be like to go through life experiencing occasional flashes of one's fate. He had once read in a biography of a seer that prophecy was like having memories of the future, and that these future memories were no different from having memories of the past. Ordinary people lived with vast amounts of information from their younger days, but not all of them remembered it correctly or used it when they should. People forgot things and disagreed with other people about what had “really” happened. Skender could see how having some knowledge of the future could be problematic under those circumstances. If people couldn't always agree on what had happened in the past, how could one person be certain all the time about what would happen in the future?

  Skender came from a long line of Skender Van Haasterens, all of whom possessed perfect memory, all of whom had taught at the Keep. He knew exactly where he had come from, and he had a pretty good idea where he was going. Once that had seemed stifling; now he considered it a blessing. Unless something utterly unexpected came along and threw his life completely off-track, he would soon be back where he belonged.

  Something utterly unexpected like Pirelius, he thought; or Lost Minds from the Void Beneath, back in the world for unknown reasons; or Chu, if she would ever talk to him again after he stole her wing, crashed it, and possibly lost it forever…

  The exit from the tunnels glowed with daylight. This threw Skender for a moment: the last thing he remembered of the outside world was utter darkness, when he had been following a faint thread of smoke to the entrance of the bandits’ hiding place. Now the sun had risen and he could smell hot dust in the air. He could also hear shouting and the sound of stone breaking.

  Sal stopped at the base of a crack leading upwards through raw, unfinished rock. A series of natural steps led to fresh air and clear sky. It looked dauntingly blue. Sal hurried up the steps to check the lie of the land.

  “Well,” he said, “this complicates things.”

  Skender eased his mother into a sitting position and edged his way past Kemp and Mawson. “What? What can you see?”

  “Man'kin.”

  “In the Aad?”

  Sal nodded grimly, and Skender climbed to see for himself.

  The sun-baked ruins, visible from his elevated position, were spread out before him. The crack partly severed a retaining wall on the edge of the city, where it abutted the sheer cliff face. Below was a series of low buildings that might once have been barracks or stables. Their roofs had collapsed long ago, leaving just stubs of walls pointing at the sky. Through these stubs walked a stone creature fully three metres high. Vaguely insectile, with a huge, tilted head and long, bladelike arms, it didn't seem to notice the bricks it sent tumbling. Cutting a swathe through the ruins to Skender's right, it angled up and back into the ruins proper.

  There, Skender caught sight of people running. These were the source of the shouts. Now that they had lost the cover of the Change-sink, Pirelius's goons were coming face to face with the inhabitants of the Divide.

  So would the escapees from the dungeon, Skender thought, if they emerged at the wrong time.

  “We need to get Mawson up here,” said Sal, “away from the Homunculus and its wake. We might be able to talk to the man'kin through him—at least find out what they want.”

  Skender scurried down the stairs to convey the request to Kemp. The albino, who had just put the bust down so he could rest, feigned irritation. He hefted Mawson into the crook of one arm and slowly eased himself up the crack. Skender, determined not to miss out on anything, followed.

  “There are plenty of hiding spots,” Kemp said, leaning Mawson on the lip of the crack and peering out at the ancient walls. “I can make a dash for one while you keep an eye out.”

  Sal nodded. “Take Skender with you. He can watch for my signal and act as a runner.”

  Skender nodded, although the thought of breaking cover amongst the man'kin made his bowels turn to water. The ruins looked awfully open under the bright light of the sun.

  Kemp levered himself up onto the edge of the wall and jumped down. Skender helped Sal slide Mawson into Kemp's waiting hands, then jumped down after him. The sudden exposure was alarming. He could hear the man'kin crashing through walls and buildings all around him. The sound of their destructive vigour echoed off the cliff face and surrounded him with the clamour of breaking stone. He could almost feel the gleeful violence the man'kin wrought through the ground under his feet.

  Kemp scrambled twenty metres to a relatively sheltered corner and managed to put Mawson down without dropping him. Then he fell back against the wall and wiped sweat from his brow. His barrel chest rose and fell.

  Skender sank down next to him and looked behind them. He could see Sal peering out of the crack in the wall, and waved. Sal raised a hand just enough to show that he had seen them. Then Skender turned to Mawson, remembering how the man'kin in the Divide had told him that Mawson was “gone.” It hadn't meant that Mawson was dead, just that he was temporarily out of action, thanks to the Change-sink and the Homunculus.

  “How long do you think it'll take for him to recover?” he asked Kemp.

  “How should I know?”

  “Use your ears,” said the man'kin, “and your eyes. The evidence of both senses will give you the answer you seek.”

  Skender jumped as Mawson's stone form shook, raising a small shower of dust that had settled into his angular lines. His face moved like an elaborate clockwork machine, jumping by increments from expression to expression. His mouth didn't open when he spoke, but his stone eyes tracked.

  “Listen to me, Mawson,” said Kemp. “I need you to talk to the man'kin around us. What do they want? Why are they destroying everything?”
/>
  “They are not destructive. They are freeing the stones from captivity.”

  “What stones?”

  “The ones bound into walls and roads and other human artefacts.”

  “Is that all they want?”

  “For now.”

  “Will they attack us?”

  “I cannot say. Their natures are imprecise.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Their meanings are clouded. They are…frightened, you might say.”

  Skender caught the slight hesitation. Fear wasn't something he normally associated with man'kin.

  Kemp, obviously used to deciphering the confusing speech of Mawson, didn't pause.

  “Frightened of what?”

  “The one from the Void.”

  Skender sat up straighter at the familiar phrase. “The Homunculus! What do you know about it?”

  “We know that its existence is inimical to us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that is its nature.”

  “What if I told you there was nothing to be frightened of? Could you reassure the man'kin out there, tell them not to be afraid?”

  “There is reason to be afraid.”

  “But it's just two people—twins, in one body.”

  “They do not belong in this world.”

  Skender gave up. This wasn't the time for a philosophical discussion about the nature of the twins. “Can you at least tell the other man'kin that we aren't their enemies? All we want to do is go home.”

  “They know what I know: that you intend us no harm. Beyond that, I cannot speak for them. These are untamed ’kin. They are not as civilised as I am.”

  “Well, thanks for trying. At least they won't be able to hurt us if we stick with the Homunculus.”

  “Unless one of them falls on us,” said Kemp.

  Skender looked up to see Sal waving frantically at him. “Wait here. I'll see what he wants.”

  He checked that the space between their shelter and the crack was clear, then dashed across. The sound of the man'kin at work was no less disturbing for knowing that they were intent on liberation—in their own way—not wanton destruction. He vividly remembered the fury of the man'kin he and Sal had encountered in the Divide: Mawson's use of the word “untamed” was odd but completely appropriate. A misunderstanding could have serious consequences.

  He scrambled into the crack. The first thing he noticed was the body of an unconscious bandit lying face-down further up the corridor.

  “What happened?”

  “We're blocking their emergency exit,” Sal said. “We can expect more of them as the man'kin work their way closer to their front door. What's the situation out there?”

  Skender explained the little he and Kemp had learned from Mawson. “We should be safe enough,” he concluded, “but there are no guarantees.”

  “We'll just have to hope for the best, then. It's not as if we have much choice.”

  Sal clambered down to help Skender's mother up the rough stairs. She assisted as best she could, but her grip was dismayingly weak. Skender tried not to think about the journey that lay ahead of them—not just through the ruins, but across the entire Divide as well. He didn't know what Sal had in the pack slung across his shoulders, but he doubted it contained enough food and water for all of them.

  When Skender had eased his mother to the ground on the far side of the crack in the wall, watching warily as he did for man'kin, he climbed back up to help with Behenna's dead weight. The Homunculus pushed with Sal from below, then clambered up and over to help Skender on the other side. The artificial body looked even more unusual in the light of day. When the twins’ limbs didn't exactly overlap, Skender half expected to be able to see through them. That wasn't the case at all. They were blurry around the edges but not translucent.

  Working together, they managed to get Behenna out of the crack. Sal scrambled down after him.

  “Now,” he said, “all we have to do is get Kemp, and—”

  He stopped, looking across the empty space to where the albino and Mawson were hiding. Skender followed his gaze. Every muscle in his body stiffened at what he saw.

  Kemp was on his knees, facing them. Pirelius, as shaggy and dangerous as a giant mad dog, stood behind him. One hand gripped a bunch of Kemp's hair, forcing his head back; the other hand pressed a large knife to his throat. The bandit leader's glare was malignant and full of loathing.

  Pirelius cocked his chin. The message was clear. Over here. Now.

  Sal pointed at his chest. Just me?

  Pirelius shook his head. All of you. The blade bit into Kemp's skin, sending a tiny rivulet of crimson down his throat. Don't push your luck.

  “I guess we do as he says,” Sal said.

  Skender couldn't take his eyes off the gleam of the blade. “What does he want?”

  “Let's ask him.” Sal straightened and stepped out of cover.

  The flyer swooped precipitously close to the heavy lifter, and Shilly did exactly as Chu had suggested she do: gesture rudely at it. The wing's pilot—the same handsome, arrogant man who had accused Chu of being a fraud—returned the compliment and glided away.

  “Ignore him,” said Chu. “There's nothing he can do. If they were going to pop our bubble, they would've done so ages ago.”

  “What are they doing here, then?”

  “I guess they want to find out what we're doing. Miners are always looking for new leads. And who knows what the man'kin will leave behind in their wake?”

  Shilly peered over the side of the gondola at the migration below. She could make out the individual frontrunners, but the full extent of their numbers was hidden from her view by dust. And more were coming around the bend of the Divide. It looked as though every man'kin for a thousand kilometres was uprooting and moving on.

  Their intentions were unknown. And when she looked ahead to the Aad, at the clouds rising from the ruins, her uncertainty took on an urgent note.

  Marmion came forward, holding onto stanchions to keep his balance as the lifter swayed beneath him.

  “Any word from Sal?”

  “Nothing.” The continuing silence was yet another cause for concern. “Is there anything you can do to hurry things along? We're almost on your territory again.”

  “We're flying, Shilly, not sailing. I'm sure the last thing Chu wants is us blowing her off course.”

  “Couldn't have said it more politely myself,” said the flyer, “but we're not far off now, anyway. If you guys want to start talking about somewhere to touch down, that would be good. I'd argue against using the anchors, just in case we need to get away quickly. When we find Skender and the others, we can use the ladders and ropes to haul them up and get them away.”

  Shilly glanced at Marmion to see how he would react to the idea of rescuing the Homunculus, but his face didn't change.

  “What about the tower?” he asked, pointing at the ruins. “Could we attach the heavy lifter to that and climb down from there?”

  “It's a possibility,” Chu said. “I'll aim for it and we'll see what the air is like.”

  “Well, that's something we can help you with. Every warden is taught to see the wind.”

  “Really?” Chu looked deeply envious for a moment. “Then I guess you'll come in useful after all. Tell me when you're ready and you can start giving me directions. That'll make my life a lot easier.”

  Shilly edged away as Marmion closed his eyes and concentrated. The small amount of the Change Marmion called on didn't add much to that already buzzing in and around the structure of the heavy lifter. But she felt the shift in the world as his mind interacted with it in much the same way as a musician might shift key in the middle of a song.

  Chu watched the warden with all the attention she could spare. Her desire seemed as keen as Shilly's. Both of them lacked the innate potential for the Change that made Sky Wardens, Stone Mages, yadachi blood-workers, and the occasional wild talent like Sal the envy of everyone—although Shilly
had long ago gotten over her resentment of that fact.

  When one of the bubbles in Marmion's torc began to glow like a miniature star caught in perfectly clear amber, Chu gasped. His eyes opened. They had turned a clear, translucent blue, the same colour as the sky.

  “We're cutting across a dense current,” he said, leaning forward to peer out of the gondola. “I can see it running like a river from the southeast.”

  Chu nodded. “That's what's making us rock. There should be another one ahead, tending south. It's usually there this time of day.”

  Marmion's charmed gaze sought details where Shilly could see none. “Yes,” he said. “You're taking us a little high. Bring us down and you'll catch it. There'll be some turbulence, but it won't last. It's just the boundary where the two flows brush by each other.”

  Chu nodded and obeyed his instructions without hesitating. The lifter's nose dipped and a shudder ran along its length. Shilly held on tight as the turbulence worsened.

  A hand tapped her shoulder. She turned around to see Tom looking at her, slightly green around the ears.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  He sat down next to her. “You haven't called Sal since we left.”

  “I know. I figured you'd be tired from what I'd already taken.”

  “I am, but you're worried. You can try again if you want to.”

  She was more grateful than she could say for the offer, even if she wouldn't let herself accept it. “He'll call me if he can. I'd rather you conserved your strength for when I really need it.”

  Tom nodded quite seriously.

  Shilly had been half-joking, but his lack of amusement gave her reason to be seriously concerned.

  “Unless you're trying to tell me that I should call him now? That you've dreamed me doing it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. We'll just have to wait and see what happens, then.” Like always, she thought, telling herself to emulate his insouciance.

  The heavy lifter shuddered and dipped again. When she checked their progress, she saw the Aad much closer than it had been before.

  Chu and Marmion were still discussing possible landing sites.