She saw there the tall slim man that Bellam, one of her nephews on Torvald’s side, had become. She opened the door fully and he bowed.
‘Auntie.’
‘Bellam — a pleasure. You do not come by often enough.’
‘I am sorry, Auntie. I understand that the Legate has sent Torvald from the city. Some sort of political mission. So you are alone …’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, Seguleh have returned to the city from the west. Just a bare ragged handful. People think there will be trouble. We are heading out to a residence in the Gadrobi hills. Perhaps you would care to join us?’
Touched, she squeezed his arm. ‘Why, thank you for the offer, nephew. But no. I will remain. Torvald will be returning and I will have to be here for him. And do not worry, I will be safe. Now go. Look after your mother and father, yes?’
Reluctant, a touch confused, the lad hesitated. ‘How do you know …’
‘Never you mind that, lad. Now go.’
He was still uncertain, but he bowed, deferring to her in any case. Sometimes, she knew, a reputation for fierceness made things so much easier.
She did not shut the door but threw on a shawl instead. So, it shall be this night. I must warn the Greyfaces — no gas! Shut the pipes! Squeeze their throats shut just as tight if I must!
The forest they walked gave way to a canyon. A narrow strip of starry night sky shone above. Tayschrenn led, moving confidently. Kiska kept a wary eye out. The canyon became a cave then a series of natural stone tunnels. Kiska finally ventured to ask: ‘Where are we going?’
But the mage merely raised a hand for patience. Kiska subsided, grumbling.
Eventually they emerged from a cave mouth and Kiska found herself high on the steep slope of some sort of mountain. Not too far away the sea spread to the horizons, black and glimmering like the sky. The jade banner of the Visitor glared high above. They were on an island.
‘Where are we?’
‘Kartool.’
‘Kartool!’ Kiska suppressed a start of revulsion. ‘Why here of all places?’
He turned on her a fond, almost amused, glance. ‘As I said, a long delayed reunion. Come.’ Kiska wasn’t sure if she approved of this peculiar sense of humour the High Mage seemed to have acquired.
He led the way along the narrow stone ledge. It curved round the wall of the mountain. For an instant Kiska had a flashback to a similar path on the cliffs of Malaz Isle, no great distance from her now. Agayla … are you there? Is this the Queen’s intent? Is this the right path? Gods, if I only knew.
The track stepped up on to a wide flat walkway that ran straight into the side of the mountain, to a worked cave entrance whose stone pillars were carved with the sigils of D’rek, the Worm of the World’s Autumn. After a moment’s stunned silence, Kiska cleared her throat. ‘Ah, Tayschrenn — this is a temple to D’rek …’
‘Indeed it is. I am glad to see your education encompasses the cult’s iconography.’
Ha! ‘D’rek tried to capture you!’
‘Many times, yes. Capture or kill. But that is the past. A new crossroads has been reached. It is time for a chat. Mustn’t hold grudges.’
They walked the processional way, where braziers lit the tunnel between thick pillars carved from the stone of the walls. No one was about. ‘Where is everyone?’ Kiska breathed, her voice low.
‘D’rek is still without priests, Kiska. Even here and at the temple below. This is the Holy of Holies. The most sacred shrine. Only priests and priestesses were ever allowed entrance here.’
‘And these braziers?’
‘We’ve been invited, Kiska. Here we are.’
The processional way ended at a great cavern, roughly circular. Kiska followed the line of its roof up and up until, squinting, she realized there was no roof. They stood at the base of a central vent that ran through the mountain to its very top. A dormant volcano.
At the centre of the cavern was a pit, a black jagged hole that led down into smoke and utter night. Kiska flinched back from its lip; whatever was down there, it smelled vile.
‘What now?’ she asked, a hand at her nose.
‘Now she and I are going to have a talk, and you mustn’t interfere. Stay here, yes?’
‘Well, all right,’ she allowed, doubtful. ‘But where are you-’ Then she screamed as Tayschrenn stepped up and threw himself into the pit, diving in a long arc to disappear from sight.
Screaming still, she nearly threw herself in after him, but a strong hand grasped her cloak and yanked her away. She fell on her back and found herself looking up at an old woman, bent, hair a thick ropy nest and eyes bright circles of milky white. ‘Doan do that,’ the old crone snarled at her crossly, shaking a crooked finger.
‘Don’t do what?’ she gasped, completely shocked.
‘Doan yell like that to wake the dead. Hurts the ears, that does.’
‘Sorry.’ She leapt to her feet. ‘But he jumped! He-’
‘Yes, yes.’ The old woman waved dismissively. ‘That’s what the most powerful of them do. Doan worry y’self. He’ll be back. Or … he’ll be dinner for the Worm!’ and she chuckled, shuffling off.
Kiska followed. ‘Dinner! You mean … down there … it’s down there?’
‘Oh aye. Down there. Far enough. Coiling and churning eternal. The Worm of the Earth. A worm of energy, it is. Fire and flame, molten rock and boiling metal. Ever restless. And a good thing too! Else we’d all be dead!’
‘I’m sorry — I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘Never mind. Make y’self useful. See that bucket?’
Kiska peered into the shadows. ‘I think so.’
‘Well, fill it and follow me!’
Against the wall Kiska found a bucket and woven baskets bursting with coal. She filled the bucket and followed.
‘Keep the fires going — that’s my job,’ the old hag was muttering. ‘Can’t be neglected! It’s the light and heat that keeps us all alive. Yes?’ She peered about blindly.
‘Ah … yes,’ Kiska said.
‘That’s right!’ Reaching the wall, the woman walked along, tracing her way with one hand. The other hand she held up high, quavering. Nearing a brazier, she patted at the hot metal to test its heat. Kiska winced at the sight. Nodding to herself, satisfied, she moved on. ‘There’s precious few these days understand that, girl,’ she muttered. ‘Precious few understand that it’s all about service. Serving!’
‘Yes,’ Kiska answered, understanding now that this was her role.
‘No,’ the old crone muttered, spitting aside. ‘Nowadays it’s all about gathering — influence and power and whatnot.’ She found another brazier, patted its hot iron with her naked hand, waved. ‘Low! Fill it!’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that’s not how it used to be. Not how it should be! Do you understand me?’
‘Ah … yes.’ I have no idea what you’re blathering on about, you miserable hag.
‘Only way to sustain anything, to build anything, is to give! You understand me, girl? Give and give of y’self till there’s nothing left to give! Only then can you have something! If you take, you diminish things till there’s nothing left. If you give, you provide and things grow! Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘There y’go! That’s right. Everyone’s greedy these days. It’ll only diminish the pot till there’s nothing left! Then we’re all in the dark, yes?’
‘Ah … right. Yes.’
The old woman leaned back against the wall, breathing wetly. ‘There we go. All done.’
‘We’re done?’ Kiska studied the countless other braziers surrounding the chamber.
‘Not us! Me. I’m done. You go on and finish.’
Kiska eased out a long low breath between her teeth, but continued. She went all the way round the cavern, tossing lumps of coal into any of the braziers that were low, relighting others that had gone out. When she returned the bucket to its place she found the old woman sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up tight, a cloak wrapped around her, asleep, her mouth half open.