Nicholas Sayre had grown used to the twilight, as he had grown used to many other things, and he no longer thought it strange. But his body still rebelled, even when his mind did not. He coughed and held his handkerchief against his nose and mouth. Hedge’s Night Crew were sterling workers, but they did smell awful, as if the flesh were rotting on their bones. Generally he didn’t like to get too close – in case whatever they had was contagious – but he’d had to this time, to check out what was happening.
“You see, Master,” Hedge explained, “we cannot move the two hemispheres any closer together. There is a force that keeps them apart, no matter what methods we employ. Almost as if they are identical poles of a magnet.”
Nick nodded, absorbing this information. As he’d dreamt, there had been two silver hemispheres hidden deep underground, and his excavation had found them. But his sense of triumph at their discovery was soon dispelled by the logistical problems of getting them out. Each hemisphere was seven feet in diameter and the strange metal it was made of was much heavier than it should be, weighing even more than gold.
The hemispheres had been buried some twenty feet apart, separated by a strange barrier made of seven different materials, including bone. Now that they were being raised, it was clear that this barrier had helped negate the repulsive force, for the hemispheres simply could not be brought within fifty feet of each other.
Using rollers, ropes and over two hundred of the Night Crew, one of the hemispheres had been dragged up the spiral ramp and over the lip of the pit. The other lay abandoned a good distance down the ramp. The last time they had tried to drag and push up the lower hemisphere, the repulsive force had been so great it was hurled back down, crushing many of the workers beneath it.
In addition to this strange repulsive force, Nick noted, there were other effects around the hemispheres. They seemed to generate an acrid, hot-metal smell that cut through even the fetid, rotting odour of the Night Crew. The smell made him sick, though it did not seem to affect either Hedge or his peculiar labourers.
Then there was the lightning. Nick flinched as yet another bolt struck down, momentarily blinding him, deafening thunder coming an instant later. The lightning was striking even more frequently than before, and now both hemispheres were exposed, Nick could see a pattern. Each hemisphere was struck eight times in a row, but the ninth bolt would invariably miss, often striking one of the workers.
Not that this seemed to affect them, part of Nick’s mind observed. If they didn’t catch alight or get completely dismembered, they kept on working. But this information didn’t stay in his head, as Nick’s thoughts always came back to his primary goal with an intense focus that banished all extraneous thoughts.
“We will have to move the first hemisphere on,” he said, fighting the shortness of breath that came with the nausea he suffered whenever he went too close to the silver metal. “And we will need an additional barge. The two hemispheres won’t fit on the one we’ve got, not with a fifty-foot separation. I hope the import licence I have will allow two shipments... In any case, we have no choice. There must be no delay.”
“As you say, Master,” replied Hedge, but he kept staring at Nick as if he expected something else.
“I meant to ask if you’d found a crew,” Nick said at last, when the silence became uncomfortable. “For the barges.”
“Yes,” replied Hedge. “They gather at the lakeside. Men like me, Master. Those who served in the Army of Ancelstierre, down in the trenches of the Perimeter. At least till the night drew them from their pickets and listening posts and made them cross the Wall.”
“You mean deserters? Are they trustworthy?” Nick asked sharply. The last thing he wanted was to lose a hemisphere through human stupidity, or to introduce some additional complication for when they crossed back into Ancelstierre. That simply could not be allowed to happen.
“Not deserters, sir, oh, no,” replied Hedge, smiling. “Simply missing in action and too far from home. They are quite trustworthy. I have made certain of that.”
“And the second barge?” Nick asked.
Hedge suddenly looked up, nostrils flaring to sniff the air, and he didn’t answer. Nick looked up too and a heavy drop of rain splashed upon his mouth. He licked his lips, then quickly spat as a strange, numbing sensation spread down his throat.
“This should not be,” Hedge whispered to himself, as the rain came heavier and a wind sprang up around them. “Summoned rain, coming from the northeast. I had best investigate, Master.”
Nick shrugged, uncertain what Hedge was talking about. The rain made him feel peculiar, recalling him to some other sense of himself. Everything around him had assumed a dreamlike quality and for the first time he wondered what on earth he was doing.
Then a strange pain struck him in the chest and he doubled over. Hedge caught him and laid him down on to earth that was rapidly turning into mud.
“What is it, Master?” asked Hedge, but his tone was inquisitive rather than sympathetic.
Nick groaned and clutched at his chest, his legs writhing. He tried to speak, but only spittle came from his lips. His eyes flickered wildly from side to side, then rolled back.
Hedge knelt by him, waiting. Rain continued to fall on Nick’s face, but now it sizzled as it hit, steam wafting off his skin. A few moments later, thick white smoke began to coil out of the young man’s nose and mouth, hissing as it met the rain.
“What is it, Master?” repeated Hedge, his voice suddenly nervous.
Nick’s mouth opened and more smoke puffed out. Then his hand moved, quicker than Hedge could see, fingers clutching at the necromancer’s leg with terrible force. Hedge clenched his teeth, fighting back the pain, and asked again, “Master?”
“Fool!” said the thing that used Nick as its voice. “Now is not the time to seek our enemies. They will find this pit soon enough, but by then we will be gone. You must procure an additional barge at once and load the hemispheres. And get this body out of the rain, for it is already too fragile, and much remains to be done. Too much for my servants to laze and chatter!”
The last words were said with venom and Hedge screamed as the fingers on his leg dug in like a steel-toothed mantrap. Then he was released, to fall back into the mud.
“Hurry,” whispered the voice. “Be swift, Hedge. Be swift.”
Hedge bowed where he was, not trusting himself to speak. He wanted to edge out of reach of the grasping, inhuman power of those hands, but he feared to move.
The rain grew heavier, and the white smoke began to sink back into Nick’s nose and mouth. After a few seconds it disappeared completely and he went totally limp.
Hedge caught his head just before it splashed back into a puddle. Then he lifted him up and carefully arranged him over his shoulders in a fireman’s lift. A normal man’s leg would have been broken by the force exerted through Nick’s hand, but Hedge was no normal man. He lifted Nick easily, merely grimacing at the pain in his leg.
He’d carried Nick halfway back to his tent before the inert body on his shoulders twitched and the young man began to cough.
“Easy, Master,” said Hedge, increasing his pace. “I’ll soon have you out of the rain.”
“What happened?” asked Nick, his voice rasping. His throat felt as if he’d just smoked half a dozen cigars and drunk a bottle of brandy.
“You fainted,” replied Hedge, pushing through the flaps of the tent door. “Are you able to dry yourself and get to bed?”