‘Carry on with the repairs,’ she said.
‘Are we gonna go?’ Urko asked. ‘He won’t want us takin’ his ship.’
Surly cast him her searing glare. ‘It’s our ship.’
Urko shrugged. ‘Yeah. But we promised to work for him.’
Surly’s lips turned down even further. ‘We’ll work for him from far away. Anyway, he’s gone again, isn’t he? Disappeared. Maybe gone for ever. We have to just assume—’
Grinner came thumping down the stairs.
‘How is he?’ Cartheron asked.
He nodded his assurances to everyone. ‘He’ll live. Just some kind of shock. Our, ah, patron’s magery doesn’t agree with him, apparently.’ He turned to Surly. ‘May I?’
She gestured him off. ‘Of course. Go ahead.’
He hurried out the door.
Of course, Cartheron thought, he’s worried about Hawl.
Shrift rose and went to the door as well. ‘I’ll take watch,’ she said, and stepped out.
‘Crust,’ Surly said from the bar.
‘Yes?’
She was still staring off ahead of her. ‘You have another moon.’
Cartheron nodded. Damned straight – after that display. Best to be careful. He shook his head. Who would’ve thought the little runt had that in him? Taming the Hounds of Shadow? He drank and shook his head again. By all the ancient powers above and below … who would’ve thought? ‘How long this time, I wonder, hey?’ he murmured aloud.
Surly just stared ahead, thinking furiously perhaps about what this latest revelation meant for her long-term plans.
‘Don’t know,’ Urko answered. ‘The locals say no one and nothing ever comes out of that place.’
Cartheron emptied his earthenware mug and sighed. Well, they had plenty of work to do, regardless.
* * *
Dancer found himself in darkness. Not the dark as of a moonless night, but a complete and utter black, as if he swam lost within a sea of elemental night.
‘Where are we?’ he asked of the blackness.
‘I’m not sure,’ Kellanved answered, sounding reassuringly close, but also completely spent and wrung out.
Understandably so. ‘Can’t you see?’ he asked.
‘No. Too dark.’
‘Well – make some light. Do your hocus-pocus magery.’
‘Can’t. There are no shadows here.’
‘You can’t make us a plain light?’ Dancer felt almost betrayed. ‘What kind of a mage are you?’
‘Not that kind. Ah!’ Above, a door had opened casting weak watery light, as of a sickle moon, down a set of stone steps. The feeble light was occluded, however, by the lumbering gigantic shape of an armoured colossus who came thumping down the steps.
Dancer drew his heavy parrying gauche once more, thinking, This is just not my night.
‘We are within,’ Kellanved called out. ‘Why dispute this now?’
The giant did not answer from within its obscuring full helm. It drew a blade fully as large as a two-handed sword, and held it in one gauntleted hand. It swung ponderously. Dancer and Kellanved evaded the blow. The blade rang on the stone-flagged floor.
‘Do something,’ Dancer hissed to his partner.
Kellanved held up his open hands. ‘I have nothing left.’
Snarling his frustration, Dancer threw himself at the colossus, striking low, but his blade rebounded from the giant’s mailed leggings. He evaded another sluggish blow and called, ‘This is not my strong suit!’
‘I have a plan,’ Kellanved answered, throwing a finger in the air. Dodging a straight up and down cut, the clashing iron raising sparks from the stones, Kellanved ran for the stairs.
Dancer watched him go almost with disbelief. ‘That’s your plan? Run away?’
Topping the steps, Kellanved called down, ‘A time-honoured tradition.’
Dancer easily evaded the ponderous guardian to follow his partner up the stairs. He found an empty hallway. From below came the heavy thumping of the giant, pursuing.
A panicked yell from Kellanved brought Dancer running up the hall to a small parlour, or salon, where flames crackled in a fireplace. Dim dirty windows hinted at early morning outside. Kellanved writhed on the floor, fighting something small and furry that was wrapped round his head yanking at his hair.
Dancer let his arms fall. ‘It’s that nacht thing. Your pet.’
Kellanved stopped wriggling. He struggled to his feet, dragged the thing round to study it. ‘Demon! Bad Demon!’
The thing let out an enormous belch and Kellanved flinched.
Dancer looked to the thick, soot-blackened log rafters above. ‘Change its damned name, would you?’
A crashing footfall announced the entry of the giant, blade readied. Kellanved froze, gaping up at it, as did the nacht in his hands, its arms wrapped round his neck. It seemed to Dancer that both wore the exact same expression of stunned consternation.
The armoured colossus lowered its blade, its shoulders falling, as if in disappointment, then it turned and trudged away down the hall.
Carefully extricating himself from the creature, losing little pawfuls of hair, Kellanved set the beast down on a nearby table. He brushed his hands together. ‘There! Now that that’s settled…’
Dancer threw out his arms. ‘What? What’s settled?’
The little mage just shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’ He peered about the room. ‘Now let’s have a look round.’
‘We are in this house thing then?’ Kellanved nodded absently. ‘I thought it was supposed to be hard to enter.’
‘Oh, it is, I assure you.’
‘But we got in without much trouble.’
Kellanved made a tsking noise. ‘Really? Not much trouble? I’ll have you know the route I brought us on couldn’t be duplicated by anyone alive. We sneaked in, my friend. If you try to force your way in, then yes, it is frankly impossible. But if you come sidling up through darkness and shadow, shift through a number of Warrens and Realms, edging up closer and closer each time, pretending to be part of the darkness, sorting and searching, until, finally, the planes overlap … so to speak…’
Dancer eyed him sidelong. ‘If you say so.’
The mage fiddled with his newly reappeared walking stick, peering about, not meeting Dancer’s steady gaze.
‘Or … it just let us in.’
‘That would rather take away from the magnificence of my achievement, don’t you think?’
Dancer crossed his arms. ‘What did you say to that hound, anyway?’
Kellanved sent him a look, one brow raised. ‘What? Ah! I merely told her that if they cast their lots in with me they would see a great deal of action.’ He waved Dancer onward. ‘You see, it struck me that they must be truly bored sniffing among the sands and ruins and ghosts. With me they’re sure to get out much more.’
Dancer let out a long breath, ruefully shaking his head. ‘In other words, you cut a deal.’
The little mage’s face twisted up, pained. ‘Really, Dancer. Words do mean something, you know. You should take more care in your, ah, casting.’
But Dancer would not stop shaking his head. ‘No. I’m spot on. Don’t you see it? We’re the hounds in this scenario. The House cut us a deal.’
Kellanved had his arms out as if bewildered. ‘I assure you I have no idea what you are talking about. It was only through my pure genius and profound insight into the mysteries of Warren manipulation that I was able to penetrate the hidden interstices, aporia, and lacunae of this structure’s thaumaturgical defences.’
Dancer waved him silent and headed up the hall. ‘Save it for the histories.’
Falling into step with him, Kellanved raised a finger into the air. ‘Histories! Now there’s an idea.’
* * *
Four days after the night of the Shadow Storm – as everyone was calling it – Tocaras waved Cartheron to the front door of Smiley’s. He gestured outside. ‘Someone here about hiring on.’