“How?”
“Wasn’t the Lady. Wasn’t Hisvin. Old Bones herself. Patron of the arts.” I shook my head to clear it. “Gather up the paintings. Help me clear the floor. We need them in a circle.”
I heard myself say the words, but wasn’t sure why I spoke them.
“Like Hell we do. Markhat. Wake up. Remember what Hisvin said? We can’t let this thing out.”
“We won’t be letting it out. It’s going to let us in.”
“In? In where? In how?”
“The paintings. Prop them up in a circle, all around the room. Put this one in the center. A door will open.”
“A door? To where?”
Whatever knowledge had been impressed upon me ended.
“My head hurts.”
Evis regarded me warily. His knife was uncomfortably close to my liver. “I’m not surprised. Is that you in there? Tell me your fiancee’s name.”
“Darla. And she’s not my fiancee.”
Evis grinned. “Sure, pal. Whatever you say. Let’s get out of here before you start channeling dead alarkins again.”
I shivered. Stray images from the dream flitted about me, half-seen and fading.
Snores began to sound from all over the room. Serris moaned and stirred but did not awaken. “What about them?”
“Leave them. They’re as safe as they can be, these days. Come on.”
Evis tugged at my elbow. Even the gentle prodding of a halfdead has considerable power. I found my legs and made them move, and we left a roomful of snoring artists behind us.
The Lady met us at the end of the hall. Marlo was at her side, looking grim and determined. He had a bruise right below his right eye. His axe sported a fresh chip out of its handle, just below the head.
“I see you’ve been improving morale,” I said.
He glared. “I ain’t saying I much blame them, Finder. They’re scared. Things in the yard, soldiers dying, and that pair of catapults is set to throw any minute now.”
The Lady chimed in. “The House won’t stand long against them, Finder. You know that. I’m about to start moving people into the tunnels.”
“Better have a look around first.” I gave her a quick sketch of the cylinders rising from her lawn. “Not sure if they’ll have any presence underground, but if they do, you’ll want to keep your distance.”
The Lady nodded. I didn’t notice her paleness and exhaustion until then.
“For what it’s worth, Lady, I’m sorry about all this. I wish there had been another way.”
“This wasn’t your doing, Finder. And I apologize for your treatment by my household.”
I waved that off. “Forget it, Lady. They’ve watched their homes burn and seen their own killed. I don’t blame them for being scared.”
She nodded curtly. “Marlo and I will inspect the tunnels. I invite you and your party to join us, of course. You will not be attacked in my presence. I can assure you of that much.”
“Thank you. When and if the time comes, I’ll take you up on that.”
“Marlo.” And they were off.
I could feel eyes on us. And feel their intent. The ghost of the huldra chose that moment to intrude. It babbled on in words I didn’t know but in tones that were unmistakable — they seek to do you harm, so do them harm first. And it tried to show me ways to do just that, by coupling strange words with shapes traced in the dark.
I cussed aloud. Evis titled his head.
“Nothing,” I said. “Let’s go.”
And at that moment, I heard, from out on the lawn, the shouted word “throw.”
Thunk, as a rope was cut. A rush of wind, the agonized shrieking of timbers moving against each other, and then the ground-shaking thump as the throwing arm slammed into the stop and the contents of the basket were hurled toward us.
I dived for the floor, reached up to pull Evis down with me, grabbed only empty air.
The projectile struck.
The House shook. Stones broke. Timbers twisted and tore. Plaster sprang from the walls, clattering to the floor in hand-sized chunks, which then in turn shattered and skidded. Bits of the ceiling rained down, peppering my back and neck like a sudden hard rain.
Shouts rang out, and screams. Great rolling clouds of dust boiled down the hall.
Another impact, this one from the rear of the House, sounded. Plaster fell. I heard a monstrous shifting, as though a great mass of stone moved against another.
Evis hauled me to my feet. “Time to go,” he said, and when he set me down my feet were on the stairs.
We charged up them, through the dust. The shouting behind us grew closer and took on a decidedly determined tone.
I didn’t need any exhortation to hurry. Evis glided on ahead, cloak flapping, silver blade gleaming in his hand.
“There he is!”
I risked a glance backwards. A dozen of the Lady’s staff took to the stairs after me. There was no mercy in their eyes.
A pair of dark shapes leaped over me. They fell into the mob. Bodies flew. It was over in a pair of heartbeats, and the stairs were littered with groaning forms who puked and bled but nevertheless made a decent show of crawling downward and away.
Sara and Victor rose from the dust. “We made every effort to spare their lives,” said Victor. “I shall show no such restraint again.”
The hulda howled and called out for blood. I turned from the halfdead and followed Evis up the stairs.
We made it inside. The catapult crews shouted and cussed, preparing their engines for another round of mayhem.
Mama was at the hole by the window. “I figure these here walls are tougher than anybody knew,” she announced. “Still, two more throws from each, and they’ll be a knocking on yonder door. And that’s if the floor don’t cave in first.”
Darla was whispering with Evis. I didn’t need to guess about what.
“Boss.” Gertriss was eyeing me funny. “Boss, what have you been up to?”
Mama turned from her surveillance of the lawn and fixed her eyes upon me as well.
“There may be another option,” I said. “Hisvin and the people outside aren’t the only magical types involved.”
Darla came to my side. “What were you thinking?” she said. She ran her fingers through my hair, turned my face to hers, looked at me as if she were trying to stare inside my skull. “Are you crazy, Markhat? You don’t know what’s down there, what it might do.”
“Nobody does, oh light of my life. That’s one thing we’ve all got in common. But we’ve got something neither the Corpsemaster nor the spooks outside have got.”
Buttercup ran up to me as if summoned. I tousled her hair, and she squealed and smiled.
“Evis said-”
“I know what Evis said. And I appreciate it. I’m not saying we start propping up paintings and opening doors just yet. I’m just saying it’s another place to run, if all else fails. I haven’t counted the Corpsemaster out just yet.”
Mama came stomping up. Evis took her place at the spy-hole.
“Boy, you got less sense than any man I ever met. Hold this.” She stuck a dead robin in my hand.
“Mama.”
“Shut up. Gertriss. Take his other hand. Look.”
Gertriss took my free hand, shrugged apologetically, and closed her eyes.
Mama mumbled something too soft for me to catch.
Shivers ran up my spine.
“Oh my,” said Evis. “The Corpsemaster. I do believe you’ll want to see this, Markhat.”
We could all hear renewed shouting from outside. The telltale clinks of metal on metal joined them, and the hiss and thunk of arrows and bolts.
I tried to tear free, but Gertriss held fast.
“Still, boy, be still,” hissed Mama. She shook an owl at me with her free hand. Gertriss pawed at the air with hers.
“Something done touched you, boy,” said Mama. “You see it, girl?”
“I see,” replied Gertriss. Her eyes didn’t open. “Something old. Something that’s been buried.”
“Buried but not dead,” said Mama. “Restless in a tomb.”
I yanked my hands free. “We don’t have time, ladies,” I said. “What’s happening out there?”