'You should never have left the Claw, Kalam. We don't deal with rejection very well. The Empress wants you, you know, wants a conversation with you, in fact. Before skinning you alive, I imagine. Alas, things aren't so simple, are they?
'And so, here we are …'
In his peripheral vision, Kalam saw the man draw forth a dagger. 'It's those immutable laws within the Claw, you see. One in particular, which I'm sure you well know …'
The blade sank deep into Kalam's side with a dull, distant pain. Pearl withdrew the weapon. 'Oh, not fatal, just lots of blood. A weakening, if you will. Malaz City is quiet tonight, don't you think? Not surprising — there's something in the air — every cutpurse, guttersnipe and thug can feel it, and they're one and all keeping their heads low. Three Hands await you, Kalam, eager for the hunt to start. That immutable law, Kalam … in the Claw, we deal with our own.'
Hands gripped the assassin. 'You'll awaken once you hit the water, friend. Granted, it's something of a swim, especially with the armour you're wearing. And the blood won't help — this bay's notorious for sharks, isn't it. But I've great confidence in you, Kalam. I know you'll make it to dry land. That far, at least. After that, well.. '
He felt himself being lifted, edged over the rail. He stared down at the black water below.
'A damned shame,' Pearl gasped close to his ear, 'about the captain and this crew, but I've no choice, as I'm sure you understand. Farewell, Kalam Mekhar.'
The assassin struck the water with a soft splash. Pearl stared down as the disturbance settled. His confidence in Kalam wavered. The man was in chain armour, after all. Then he shrugged, drew forth a pair of throat-stickers and swung to face the motionless figures lying on the main deck. 'A good man's work is never done, alas,' he said, stepping forward.
The shape that emerged from the shadows to face him was huge, angular, black-limbed. A single eye gleamed from the long-snouted head, and hovering dimly behind that head was a rider, his face a mockery of his mount's.
Pearl stepped back, offered a smile. 'Ah, an opportunity to thank you for your efforts against the Semk. I knew not where you came from then, nor how you've come to be here now, or why, but please accept my gratitude-'
'Kalam,' the rider whispered, 'He was here but a moment ago.'
Pearl's eyes narrowed. 'Ah, now I understand. You weren't following me, were you? No, of course not. How silly of me! Well, to answer your question, child, Kalam has gone into the city-'
The demon's lunge interrupted him. Pearl ducked beneath the snapping jaws — and directly into the sweeping foreclaw. The impact threw the Claw twenty feet, crashing him up against a battened-down dory. His shoulder dislocated with a stab of pain. Pearl rolled, forcing himself into a sitting position. He watched the demon stalk towards him.
'I see I've met my match,' Pearl whispered. 'Very well.' He reached under his shirt. 'Try this one, then.'
The tiny bottle shattered on the deck between them. Smoke billowed, began coalescing.
'The Kenryll'ah looks eager, wouldn't you say? Well — ' he struggled to his feet — 'I think I'll leave you two to it. There's a certain tavern in Malaz City I've been dying to see.'
He gestured and a warren opened, swept over him, and when it closed, Pearl was gone.
Apt watched the Imperial demon acquire its form, a creature twice its weight, hulking and bestial.
The child reached down and patted Apt's lone shoulder. 'Let's be quick with this one, shall we?'
A chorus of shudders and explosions of wood awoke the captain. He blinked in the darkness as Ragstopper pitched wildly about him. Voices screamed on deck. Groaning, the captain pushed himself off the bed, sensing a clarity in his mind that he'd not known in months, a freedom of action and thought that told unequivocally that Pearl's influence was gone.
He clambered to his cabin door, limbs weak with disuse, and made his way into the passage.
Emerging on deck, he found himself in a crowd of cowering sailors. Two horrific creatures were battling directly in front of them, the larger of the two a mass of shredded flesh, unable to match its opponent's lightning speed. Its wild flailing with a massive double-bladed axe had reduced the deck and the rails to pulp. An earlier swing had chopped through the mast, and though it remained upright, snagged in cordage somewhere high above them, it leaned precariously, its weight canting the ship hard over.
'Captain!'
'Have the lads drag the surviving dories clear, Palet, and back up astern — we'll lower 'em from there.'
'Aye, sir!' The acting First Mate snapped out the commands, then swung back to offer the captain a grin. 'Glad you're back, Carther-'
'Shut your face, Palet — that's Malaz City out there and I drowned years ago, remember?' He squinted at the warring demons. 'Ragstopper's not going to survive this-'
'But the loot-'
'To Hood with that! We can always raise her — but we need to be alive to do it. Now, let's lend a hand with those dories — we're taking on water and going down fast.'
'Beru fend! The sea's crawling with sharks!'
Fifty yards farther out, the captain of the fast trader stood with his First Mate, both of them straining to make out the source of the commotion ahead.
'Back oars,' the captain said. 'Full stop.'
'Aye, sir.'
'That ship's going down. Assemble rescue crews, lower the boats-'
Horse hooves clomped on the main deck behind them. Both men turned. The First Mate stepped forward. 'You there! What in Mael's name do you think you're doing? How did you get that damned animal on deck?'
The woman tightened the girth-strap another notch, then swung up into the saddle. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'But I cannot wait.'
Sailors and marines scattered as she drove the horse forward. The creature cleared the side rail and leapt out into darkness. A loud splash followed a moment later.
The First Mate turned back to his captain, jaw hanging.
'Get Ship's Mage and a goat,' the captain snapped.
'Sir?'
'Anyone brave and stupid enough to do what she just did has earned our every assistance. Have Ship's Mage clear a path through the sharks and whatever else might await her. Be quick about it!'
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Every throne is an arrow-butt.
Kellanved
Beneath the whirlwind's towering spire was a lower billowing of dust as the massive army decamped. Borne on wayward gusts, the ochre clouds spread out from the oasis, settling here and there among the weathered folds of ruins. The air was lit gold on all sides, as if the desert had at last unveiled its memories of wealth and glory, only to reveal them for what they truly were.
Sha'ik stood on the flat roof of a wooden watchtower near the palace concourse, the scurrying efforts of an entire city beneath her almost unnoticed as she stared into the opaqueness to the south. The young girl she had adopted kneeled close by, watching her new mother with sharp, steady eyes.
The ladder below creaked incessantly to someone's laboured ascent, Sha'ik slowly realized, and as she turned she saw Heboric's head and shoulders emerge through the trap. The ex-priest clambered onto the platform and laid an invisible hand on the girl's head before turning to squint at Sha'ik.
'L'oric's the one to watch,' Heboric said. 'The other two think they're subtle, but they're anything but.'
'L'oric,' she murmured, returning her gaze to the south. 'What is your sense of him?'
'You've knowledge that surpasses mine, lass-'