There were three entrances to the room, and two large windows in the other wall, looking out across the chasm. The lights of the hamlet were visible out there among the flurrying snowflakes, nestled in a hollow in the land, with tree-lined banks rising like shoulders around it. Crake suddenly wished he was out there, with the others. With Samandra.
‘Do you think they can really kill you with their gaze?’ Plome said, as he was gathering up his equipment. He gave a scared little laugh. ‘Surely just a story to scare people, hmm?’
‘Not just a story,’ said Kyne, his voice full of strange harmonics. He was checking the large-bore pistol that he carried. ‘Some are stronger than others. Some can frighten a man to death.’
‘Oh,’ said Plome.
Crake was strapping on a heavy backpack, containing the device which he’d newly dubbed his ‘sonic flux emitter’. It wasn’t quite as snappy as ‘flux thrower,’ but he thought it less vulnerable to mockery. It was wired to an improved battery given to him by Kyne, which lasted much longer than the old chemical things he’d been lugging about. ‘The key is to hit the Imperator before he knows we’re here,’ he said. ‘If he gets wind of us, he can use his power.’
‘Right,’ said Plome. He shouldered his own backpack.
Crake ran a mental inventory. He had wide-spectrum ‘screamer’ spheres on his belt, to disorient daemons. Damper spheres to negate their abilities. Small portable batteries for both. Then there was the sonic flux emitter, which he’d use to zero in on the Imperator’s frequency and paralyse him with crippling pain. He carried that. The others had harmonic arc generators to ensnare the Imperator — if they could nail his frequency in time. And last but not least, they had dynamite.
Crake couldn’t hit a barn door with a gun, and neither could Plome. Besides, if the Imperators were anything like Manes, it would take more than a couple of bullets in the chest to bring them down. Massive damage or a headshot would be necessary.
Their packs were bulky and cumbersome, and everything but the dynamite had to be wired in to the batteries that they carried with them. They wouldn’t be able to move fast, and it was easy to get tangled up. Inelegant, but it was all they had. Even with Kyne providing the best equipment money could buy, their arsenal against the daemon was makeshift and clumsy.
‘Ready?’ Crake asked.
Nobody answered.
Through the lens of his spyglass, Frey watched the shuttle come slowly into view.
He was hunkered down with Silo in the snow, hidden among the bare trees near the edge of the chasm. Visibility was so poor, they’d been forced to throw on coats and get closer to get a good view of the mansion. He followed the small dark shadow as it took on form and substance, sliding out of the grey murk. The thin sound of its thrusters came to him on the wind.
‘They’ve fallen for it,’ he said.
For the first time since they’d escaped the Awakener base in the Barabac Delta, he felt excitement stir within him. These past days had been like living in a wasteland: dead horizons surrounded him. An empty hopelessness had sunk deep into his bones and made them heavy. Food and drink brought him no joy. Even Shine wasn’t much help, and Ashua had smashed his last bottle anyway.
He felt a twinge of embarrassment as he remembered making a pass at her in his cabin, but a twinge was all it was. She, at least, had quickly shelved her resentment with the stoicism of a young woman who was used to it. She grew up around violent boys, after alclass="underline" it probably wasn’t the first time someone had tried it on.
The incident with Amalicia was far worse, but even that pain had faded quickly once he’d got away from her. It was hard to feel much of anything any more. Strong emotions were swallowed quickly, lost to the bleakness.
Trinica.
He’d been undone. He’d lost his chance. There would be no salvation for either of them. No restitution for what he’d done to her. She’d been taken and turned, and he didn’t know whether he could take and turn her back. And even though he was desperate to rescue her, he’d never really believed it was possible. She was beyond his reach now. He just wanted to kill himself trying.
Yet now he saw the shuttle, he felt hope again. An Imperator — it had to be! And if Crake’s wild plan came off, they’d have a way to fight the Imperators, and a way to recover the woman he loved. He didn’t pretend to understand the method, but he trusted Crake enough to take him at his word.
With the spyglass fixed to his eye, he watched the shuttle come in. And he dared to believe again.
At least for a moment or two.
‘Ain’t right, Cap’n,’ Silo said.
He took the spyglass away and wiped wet snow from his face. ‘What isn’t?’
‘They comin’ in the day,’ he said. ‘Crake’s brother, they came at night. Took him out quiet, so no one knew. Look, they landin’ on the roof. Anyone in that mansion, they’d be sure to hear ’em.’
Frey hadn’t considered that. ‘Maybe they don’t always do it that way,’ he said. ‘Plome doesn’t have children to use as leverage. Might be they plan to go scare him direct.’
‘Might be,’ said Silo. But he didn’t sound convinced.
‘What’s up, Cap’n?’ said Crake in his ear. Frey had forgotten about the earcuff.
‘They’re landing on the roof,’ he said. He heard Crake relay the information to his companions.
The shuttle settled itself on the flat roof of the mansion, where there was a small, private landing pad for personal flyers. The shuttle couldn’t have made it here on its own: it was too far from any town. That meant there was a mother craft somewhere in the mountains. Once they had the Imperator, they’d have to get gone before he was missed.
We’re gonna be cutting this awful fine, he thought, and felt excitement spark in him again. Danger chased away the hollow feeling inside. Suddenly he wanted to get in there, face the Imperator, loose off a round or two. But this was Crake’s show; he was only the support act.
They resumed their watch. Frey shifted in an attempt to relieve the chill. The ramp of the shuttle opened silently in the distance. A black-clad figure emerged. Frey felt the cold become a fraction more profound.
Then another one came out. And another behind that.
‘Oh, shit,’ Frey muttered.
‘What?’ snapped Crake in his ear. He was evidently on edge like the rest of them. ‘Don’t just say ‘‘Oh, shit.’’ It’s not very bloody specific.’
‘There’s three of them,’ said Frey.
‘Three?’
‘Three Imperators, Crake! Is that specific enough for you?’
There was a babble of conversation in his ear. Frey tapped one boot anxiously against the other. Three Imperators. He’d never even seen three together before. You didn’t send three Imperators to subdue one little aristocrat, no matter how much he’d pissed you off.
‘You want Jez in there with you? Maybe Pelaru too? They can take care of-’
‘No,’ said Crake. ‘Kyne thinks we can handle them.’
Frey heard a little scream of disbelief in the background, which he assumed was Plome.
‘We’ve got to try, Cap’n. We’re only going to get one chance at this. You put Jez in here and she’ll slaughter the lot of them.’
‘Rather them than you!’ Frey said.
‘Cap’n!’ This was another voice. Malvery, who had the third earcuff. The fourth had been lost with Pinn. ‘Cap’n, we got trouble!’
‘I know! Weren’t you listening?’
‘More trouble, Cap’n. This contraption you left me sitting in front of, the gauges are going all over the place.’
It took Frey a moment to work out what he was talking about. Malvery was with the others in the living room of the house. Kyne’s device was registering more engines.
‘How many?’ he demanded. ‘How many aircraft?’
Malvery consulted with Samandra and came back to him quickly. ‘Three. And by the way the gauges are going, they’re big noisy bastards too. Comin’ in at speed.’