‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Now I begin to see.’
The path opened out into a paved area overhung by trees, a warm sanctuary in the foliage. In the centre was a small, circular building with a domed roof. Elaborate leaded windows were set into the dome. She went inside through an arched doorway, and he followed after her.
Their footsteps echoed as they entered the chamber. Soft light fell from above onto round walls painted with friezes and murals. In the middle of the tiled floor lay a gently bubbling pool with uneven sides. Crystals grew out of it, of many shapes and colours. They frosted its edge with spidery silicate webbing; they bulged from the water in amber clusters; they thrust upward in red shards. The heat and the moisture in the air gave the building an eerie, dreamlike quality, like a shrine to some forgotten god of nature.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ said Amalicia, staring into the pool. ‘Harbley says it’s the minerals bubbling up from the deep earth that form the crystals.’ She sighed. ‘This is a very special place to me.’
Frey looked around. It was alright, he supposed. ‘Amalicia,’ he said. ‘Will you help me?’
She turned away from the pool. Her cheeks were flushed and her breastbone had reddened. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said. ‘But I need you to help me with something first.’
She lifted her eyes to his, reached behind herself, and her dress slithered from her shoulders and fell in a pile around her ankles.
‘Ah,’ said Frey. His gaze drifted down to take in the sight of her. This was unexpected. ‘Er. . I thought you were happily married?’
‘But he’s away, Darian,’ she said, stepping closer, pressing herself against him. ‘And I’m so very lonely.’
Her scent was different.
Slag sniffed at the pipe, deep in the warm guts of the Ketty Jay. The ducts were still cooling after the recent flight; they pinged and ticked as they radiated their heat away. Normally, this was Slag’s favourite time to snuggle up and sleep, cosy in the craft’s embrace. But not today. He was far too excited.
He went further into the ducts, tracking her. It was the same cat, no doubt about it, but the invisible marks she left behind were deliciously different. They energised him and fired his blood. They made him feel young again.
He had to find her. It had become the only thing on his mind. Whereas before he’d been merely intrigued, now he was desperate. He stalked her down maintenance crawl ways and through vents, sniffing at each mark she’d left. If it was stronger than the last, he hurried on. If it was weaker, he backtracked.
As the scent became more intense, so did the feelings it provoked. He was powerful, hungry, obsessed. He scampered from mark to mark, head clouded with a new and unfamiliar sensation. In all his long life, he’d never known anything like it.
When he found her, she was waiting for him. They circled in the faint glow of the duct lights, sniffing at each other. The smell of her drove him wild. Her manner was different now, her body language inviting him instead of pushing him away. It was her time, and Slag finally knew the feeling that had brought him here.
Lust.
Ashua looked up sharply, a mug of coffee halfway to her lips. ‘What was that?’
Crake, who’d been steadily inching round the mess table to get out of the potential spray zone, looked bewildered. ‘What was what?’
Malvery had his feet up on the table, eating a slab of dry cake that he’d found in the back of the pantry and resurrected through his own unique brand of culinary necromancy. ‘Didn’t hear a thing,’ he said. He reached over to pour some more rum into his coffee.
Ashua listened again. She could have sworn she’d heard a baby crying. ‘You fellers would tell me if the Ketty Jay was haunted, right?’
‘Oh, definitely,’ said Malvery through a mouthful of cake.
‘First thing we’d do,’ Crake agreed.
Ashua sat back and relaxed a little. Surely her imagination. No need to be nervy.
She sipped her coffee and let contentment find her again. Crake’s return had settled them all to some degree. She was glad to have him back. Intelligent company was rare on the Ketty Jay, and she’d missed him, even if he currently spent more time with Samandra Bree than on his own craft. Malvery was happier than she’d seen him for months. They were working for the Coalition, albeit secretly: no more moral dilemmas for him.
In fact, everyone was so pleased to have their daemonist back that they barely mentioned Pinn at all, except to occasionally take the piss. They all seemed confident that his bizarre infatuation with the Awakeners would wear off, and he’d turn up sooner or later. Or perhaps it hadn’t sunk in that he’d gone yet. For her part, she didn’t much care. All she minded was that the crew seemed to be sticking together.
That, and she’d negotiated herself a great big bonus from Bargo Ocken.
She heard the sound again and stiffened. ‘Listen!’ she said.
They listened, and they heard it too. A sound like a baby crying. This time she found the source: an air vent above the cooker. They all stared at it as the noise lengthened and dipped to a sinister croon.
‘Um,’ said Crake. He looked at Malvery. ‘We don’t actually have a ghost, do we?’
Malvery opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly the croon became a shocking yowl, making them all jump. Malvery and Crake looked at each other in bewilderment. Ashua burst out laughing.
‘You never heard a pair of cats going at it before?’ she asked.
‘It ain’t that I’m puzzled about,’ said Malvery. ‘Where’d Slag find himself a lady?’
‘Got a whole crew full of romantics, don’t you?’ Ashua said, winking at Crake, who blushed.
There was another bloodcurdling shriek from the depths of the Ketty Jay.
‘Didn’t know the old fleabag had it in ’im,’ said Malvery. He raised his mug towards the vent. ‘Go on, lad! Give her what for!’
Ashua rolled her eyes. Men.
Frey pulled his trousers on. Amalicia gathered up her dress. They kept their backs to one another.
‘That never happens,’ Frey said.
‘Apparently it does,’ Amalicia replied tightly.
Frey had thought himself numbed to all feeling, but it turned out he was wrong. Shame got through his defences just fine.
Amalicia pulled her dress over her shoulders and sighed. She could barely conceal her irritation. ‘I suppose it happens to every man once in a while,’ she said. ‘It just. . never happened with me.’
Frey buttoned up his shirt. The chamber was too hot. Even the slow bubbling of the crystal pool oppressed him. He was wretched, scorched with embarrassment. He wanted to get away from her as fast as he could.
He felt betrayed. Happy, sad, drunk, high or depressed, he’d always performed. He’d done it with women of intimidating beauty and with women who looked like the back end of a rusty tractor. Whatever the circumstances, his equipment had never let him down. One of the great certainties of his world had been torn away from him today.
‘Is it her?’ Amalicia said from behind him. ‘Is that why?’
He didn’t trouble to ask how she knew about Trinica. There had been rumours circulating ever since Sakkan. No doubt she’d had her ear out.
Is it her? he thought. Is it? Suddenly he was angry. Was it the memory of her that stopped him, that last scream that still echoed in the dark places of his consciousness? Was it loyalty to her memory? Had she shackled him, without either of them knowing it? Had he shackled himself? Chained himself to a woman he might never be able to have, excluding all others?
That wasn’t him! That wasn’t Darian Frey! This wasn’t even cheating, for rot’s sake! They weren’t even together!
And yet the sight of Amalicia naked hadn’t stirred him. Her touch had produced no response. Something inside him had shut down, and he didn’t know how to wake it up again.