At the end of the corridor was an enclosed catwalk that crossed over to another building. “Get across as fast as you can!” Pe Ell snapped.
Morgan and the others did as they were told. But the Highlander despaired to escape this way. Narrow as the catwalk might be, it would not stop the Rake.
He reached the other side and turned with the others. Pe Ell was kneeling at the far end of the walk where it joined to the other building and sawing at the stone bracing with his strange knife. Morgan stared. Had Pe Ell lost his mind? Did he actually think his knife—any knife—could cut through stone? The Rake was almost on top of him before he was back on his feet. Cat-quick, he darted across the walk. He reached them just as the Rake eased into view snakelike now as it entered the narrow tunnel opening.
And then the impossible happened. The bracing that Pe Ell had been sawing snapped and gave way. The catwalk lurched downward held momentarily, then collapsed completely beneath and weight of the Rake. Down it plunged to the street, shattering into fragments, dust and debris rising to mix with the mist and the night.
The six from Rampling Steep stared downward, waiting. Then they heard something—a scraping movement, the sound of metal on stone.
“It’s not dead!” Dees whispered in horror.
They stepped back hurriedly from the opening and slipped down to the ground floor exiting from a door on the far side of the building onto the street. With Pe Ell and Walker in the lead, they made their way silently through the dark. Behind them, they could hear the Creeper beginning to search again.
Less than five blocks away they came upon the building Walker Boh had been seeking, a squat, virtually windowless bunker. They entered with anxious backward glances and peered about. It was indeed a warren, a maze of rooms and corridors with several sets of stairs and half a dozen entries. They climbed four stories, settled themselves in a central room away from any windows, and crouched down to wait.
The minutes passed and the Rake did not appear. An hour came and went. They ate a cold meal and settled back. No one slept.
In the silence, their breathing was the only sound.
Toward dawn, Morgan Leah grew restless. He found himself thinking of Pe Ell’s knife, a blade that could cut through stone. The knife intrigued him. Like Pe Ell’s presence on this journey, it was an unsolved mystery. The Highlander took a deep breath. Despite Walker’s warning to stay clear of the man, he decided to see what he could learn. Climbing to his feet he moved to the darkened corner where the other sat with his back to the wall. He could see Pe Ell’s eyes track him as he approached. “What do you want?” Pe Ell asked coldly.
Morgan crouched down in front of him, hesitating in spite of his resolve. “I was curious about your knife,” he admitted after a moment.
Their voices were barely audible whispers in the stillness. In the darkened room, no one else could hear.
Pe Ell’s smile was cold. “You are, are you?”
“We all saw what it did.”
Pe Ell had the knife out instantly, the blade held inches from Morgan’s nose. Morgan held his breath and did not move. “The only thing you need to know about this,” Pe Ell swore, “is that it can kill you before you can blink. You. Your one-armed friend. Anyone.”
Morgan swallowed hard. “Even the Stone King?” He forced the question out, angry with himself for being frightened.
The blade disappeared back into the shadows. “Let me tell you something. The girl says you have magic about you. I don’t believe it. You have nothing. One-arm is the only one among you who has magic, and his magic doesn’t do anything! It doesn’t kill. He doesn’t kill. I can see it in his eyes. None of you matters in this business, whether you know it or not. You’re nothing but a pack of fools.”
He jabbed at Morgan with his finger. “Don’t get in my way, Highlander. Any of you. And don’t expect me to save you the next time that Creeper comes hunting. I’m all done with the lot of you,” He withdrew his hand scornfully. “Now get away from me.”
Morgan retreated wordlessly. He glanced briefly at Walker as he went, ashamed he had ignored the other’s warning about Pe Ell. It was impossible to tell if the Dark Uncle had been watching. Dees and Carisman were asleep. Quickening was a faceless, barely distinguishable shadow.
Morgan sat cross-legged in a corner by himself, seething. He had learned nothing. All he had done was humiliate himself. His mouth tightened. One day he would have the use of his sword again. One day he would find a way to make it whole and recapture its magic—just as Quickening had said he would.
Then he would deal with Pe Ell.
He made himself a promise of it.
Chapter Nineteen
The company emerged from its concealment at daybreak. Clouds masked the skies over Eldwist from horizon to horizon, morning’s arrival bleak and gray. A faint brightening of the damp, misty air was the best that dawn could manage, and night’s shadows merely retreated into the city’s alcoves and nooks to await their mistress’ return.
There was no sign of the Rake. The six from Rampling Steep scanned the gloom cautiously. The buildings rose about them, massive and silent. The streets stretched away, canyons of stone. The only sounds were the howl of the wind, the crashing of the ocean, and the cries of the highflying seabirds. The only movements were their own.
“As if it were never here,” Horner Dees muttered as he shouldered his way past Morgan. “As if it were all a dream.”
They began the search again for Uhl Belk. Rain fell through a curtain of smoky mist that tasted and smelled of the sea, and they were soaked through in minutes. A damp sheen settled across the stone walkways and streets, the walls of the buildings, the rubble and debris, a coating that mirrored the gloom and the shadows and played tricks with the light. The wind blew in sharp gusts, darting out of hiding at corners and alleyways, racing down the city’s corridors with shrieks of delight, chasing itself endlessly.
The morning wore on, a slow grinding of gears in some vast machine that could only be heard in the mind and felt in the wearing of the spirit. Time stole from them, they sensed. Time was a thief.
They found no trace of the Stone King. The city was vast and filled with hiding places, and even if they were sixty instead of six a thorough search could take weeks. None of them had any idea where to look for Uhl Belk or, worse, any idea what he looked like. Even Quickening could offer no help. Her father had not told her how the Stone King might appear. Did he look as they did? Was he human in form? Was he large or small? Morgan asked these questions as they trudged through the gloom, keeping well back on the walkways, close to the building walls. No one knew. They were searching for a ghost.
Midday passed. The buildings and streets of the city came and went in an endless procession of obelisks and gleaming black ribbons. The rain lessened, then increased. Thunder rumbled overhead, slow and ominous. The six ate a cold meal and drank a little in the dank, shadowed entry of one of the buildings while the rain turned into a downpour that flooded the streets with several inches of churning water. They peered outside and watched as the water gathered and flowed in small rivers to stone drains that swallowed it up.
They resumed walking when the rainfall lessened again and shortly afterward came upon the strange dome they had seen from the top of the building they had climbed the previous day. It sat amid the stone spires, a monstrous shell, its surface pitted and worn and cracked. They walked its circumference, searched for an entry, and found none. There were no doors, no stairs, no windows, nor openings of any kind. There were alcoves and niches and insects of varying sizes and shapes that gave its armor a sculpted look, but no way in or out. There were no footholds or ladders that would allow them to climb to its top. It was impossible to determine what it might have been used for.