Mara studied her more closely. There was something different about her. She was perhaps even more dried and wiry than before — if it were possible for a human being to be nothing more than sinew and stretched ligament — but that was not it. There was an emotion playing about her slit mouth and narrow eyes while she stood grasping and kneading the many amulets hanging about her neck. It took Mara some time to identify it, for she had never seen it on the woman before: an almost bubbling humour. She actually appeared to be working hard to suppress a smile that kept her mouth quirking and twitching.
Mara wondered whether the emotion was contagious, for at her side Citravaghra shared it. His flecked golden eyes held triumph and he seemed to almost purr.
Skinner sensed the strangeness as well; he frowned as if disappointed. ‘You know we can wait until the jungle eventually succeeds in grinding this rise flat.’
The twitching smile threatened to burst forth. ‘Normally, yes.’
‘Normally?’
‘You do not know, do you?’ Her laughing gaze shifted to Citravaghra. ‘He does not know.’
Now Skinner checked an obvious rising anger. ‘Know what?’
‘They sense nothing of it,’ she continued to Citravaghra. ‘Isn’t that disappointing? Perhaps they truly are Disavowed.’
‘Perhaps it is Himatan itself. Or Ardata’s doing,’ he answered.
Rutana nodded exaggerated thoughtfulness. ‘Ah. She has blocked him out. How does it feel,’ she asked Skinner, ‘being cast aside? Deliberately kept ignorant. Being treated as if you do not matter — at all?’
Skinner crossed his arms. The mail of his armour slid and grated across itself. ‘That you are here belies that claim,’ he answered, sounding bored.
Yes, Mara silently encouraged him. How Rutana would hate such a tone.
‘Should we tell him?’ the witch fairly growled.
‘He really ought to know …’ Citravaghra answered, and he smiled, revealing the rest of his jagged teeth.
‘You have been cast aside, Skinner,’ Rutana declared, triumphant. ‘She has found another to take your place. You have no hope of returning now.’
Replaced? Return? Mara wondered. Has this been his plan all along?
But Skinner laughed. He threw his head back and roared as if their situation, this discussion, everything, was a great joke upon them all. After he caught his breath he shook his head. ‘Rutana — you love your mistress too much. You cannot even conceive of someone not wanting to lie down before her, can you? Well, in any case, you do not know her mind. She has declared there is no one else who could possibly stand beside her.’
Yet the woman’s taut smile broadened, satisfied, as if her own trap had been sprung. ‘But … there is one who might.’
All the while Mara glimpsed more and more of the creatures gathering, crowding the verge. Their eyes gleamed with eager hunger. We are trapped. And their numbers seem inexhaustible. Do they plan to overrun us? Soon there may be enough. What is Skinner counting on? Does he not see the danger?
Skinner waved a gauntleted hand. ‘Rutana — it does not matter.’
‘You do not care?’
‘Difficult as it obviously is for you to believe, I do not. However,’ and he gestured to the surrounding jungle, ‘as you have in us a captive audience, it would seem that I have no choice but to hear more of this.’
‘That is true. You do not. But I believe you will thank me.’
‘I will thank you to end the game.’
The smile fell to a straight knife-thin slit. ‘That is why I am here, Betrayer. To end it.’
‘Rutana …’ Citravaghra murmured, warning. ‘We have them …’
She snapped him a curt dismissive wave. ‘That is not good enough.’
Mara glanced between Skinner and the woman. He’s baiting her — why? How will this help? Except to satisfy his personal feud? And she has waved off Citravaghra! The man-leopard. The Night Hunter. The most feared of them all. Who — what — is she?
‘Very well, Betrayer,’ Rutana continued. ‘I will give you this news and then I will slay you and then your failure will be utter and complete. Perhaps you would care about that?’
‘You have nothing to say that I could possibly care about.’
She grasped hold of the many amulets and charms hung about her neck like a swimmer grasping at a rope and snarled: ‘K’azz has come! Ardata sent for him and he has come. He will stand in your place! What say you to that?’
Mara stared, stunned and shaken. K’azz here? In truth? Why … She looked to Skinner: he was silent, immobile. His stillness shouted of danger to Mara. His blunt features had pulled down in a puzzled frown. ‘We would-’ he began, only to cut himself off.
Yet we wouldn’t know, would we? We are Disavowed. The ghosts of our dead Crimson Guard brethren no longer serve us. And Himatan might disguise K’azz’s presence. Or Ardata …
He gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘What of it? This is your news? You ought not to have bothered. But, now that you have delivered it, you may go.’ And he waved her off.
The woman’s face paled to a sickly pallid ivory, as if all the blood had utterly drained from her flesh. She shifted a foot backwards, bracing herself.
‘Rutana …’ Citravaghra warned her once more.
‘Now I will slay you, Betrayer,’ she panted, her voice almost choked in passion. ‘As I should have done when you first arrived.’
‘Rutana — no!’ The man-leopard reached for her but she swatted his arm aside. She snatched at the countless leather loops hanging about her neck, snapping the cords. The amulets and charms fell to the ground, tinkling and bursting. Next she tore at the series of bands at her arms, each knotted in its own amulet. Citravaghra took her waist and steered her back down the slope. She weaved, drunkenly, hardly able to walk. They disappeared among the thick brush bordering the woods.
Skinner motioned Mara back up the steep rise. ‘We do not have much time,’ he murmured.
‘Until what?’
‘I do not know what is to come. All I know are rumours. Some say that she emerged from the caves deep underground ages ago. Some say she once sat at the feet of D’rek herself.’ They reached the line of guardsmen where Petal awaited. ‘All I know is that she will come for me. When this happens you must all run. Head for Jakal Viharn.’
‘But K’azz-’
‘K’azz? What?’ Petal snapped.
‘Later,’ Mara answered.
Skinner was peering back to the trees, his gaze slit. ‘Jacinth will command in my absence. When I return we will deal with K’azz.’
‘Return?’
A scream arched out of the jungle and everyone froze, listening. It began as a woman’s shriek of agony only to transform in mid call into something deep and reverberating — something that could not have emerged from a human throat.
‘Yes …’ Skinner continued slowly. ‘When I return from covering your escape. Now,’ he looked past them, searching, ‘Black! Your sword, if I may.’
Petal nodded to the woods. ‘They are fleeing.’
Mara glanced over, scanned the forest. Shapes darted through the trees, all running away. ‘I have a bad feeling …’ she murmured.
Black came and extended his two-handed bastard sword, grip first. Skinner drew it free of the sheath. ‘My thanks.’
‘Try not to break it.’
Something thrashed hidden in the woods, shaking the ground and raising small avalanches of stones across the slope. Enormous emergent trees that towered over the surrounding canopy shook and wavered like saplings as something flailed among them. A dark wave of birds took flight into the overcast sky. Branches fell crashing through the canopy. Something came fluttering down among them. A shimmering and winking curtain that fell over everyone: a shower of flower petals, brilliant red, pink and creamy white. Mara impatiently brushed them from her shoulders and hair.