Lalo had spent half his life dreaming of escape from Sanctuary. But now he had lost Sanctuary, and he was astonished by the passion of his longing to see it again.
Something scurried by him and he jumped. Was it a rat? Were there rats here? And surely now he could see cobblestones beneath his feet. Trembling, Lalo stared around him as dim forms precipitated from the shadows - walls, perhaps, with arched doorways and the eaves of roofs peaking like broken teeth against a lurid sky. There - surely that was the broad facade ofJubal's place, but that was impossible - the Stepsons had burned it, hadn't they? And then he was certain of the wrongness, for next to it he saw the familiar skewed sign of the Vulgar Unicorn, but the unicorn's eyes glowed evilly, and blood dripped down its spiralled horn.
Abruptly he realized that he was beginning to hear sounds, too - the kind of drunken laughter that comes from men who watch a bully's fist smash a boy's face to raw meat, or who take a woman one after another: the kind of screaming he had heard once when he hurried past Kurd's workshop, and the choked gurgle the hanged men made as they died in the Palace Yard. He had heard all those sounds in Sanctuary, and closed his ears to them, but he could not ignore the sobbing that seemed to come from somewhere just before him, the hushed, incredulous whimpering of an abused child.
I was wrong, he thought, I am in Hell after all!
Lalo began to run forward, and suddenly figures were all around him. Hawkmasks and Stepsons struggled as lopped limbs flew like scythed wheat and drops of blood splattered the cobbles like rain. A man staggered by him and Lalo thought that it was Zanderei; then the figure turned and he reeled back, for the face was gone.
Another came towards him - Sjekso Kinsan, with whom he had shared a drink sometimes in the Vulgar Unicorn, and behind him a woman with long amber hair. Lord Regli's wife. Samlane. whom Lalo had painted long ago before he met Enas Yorl. before the woman had died. There were others whom he thought he recognized, thieves whose contorted features he had seen on the gallows. Hell Hounds or mercenaries whom he had seen in Sanctuary for awhile and then saw no more.
They were looking at him, now. and closing around him. Lalo began to run, burrowing through the dark maze of this shadow Sanctuary like a maggot in an ancient corpse, seeking some unimaginable safety.
'Woman, you were fortunate to get me here at all!' Alten Stulwig said stiffly. 'My patients come to me. and I am certainly not accustomed to visiting this part of town!'
'But you know that my husband has influential friends who might object if you let their pet artist die unseen, don't you!' said Gilla nastily. 'So you stop avoiding my eyes like a whore with her first customer and tell me what's wrong with him!' She lifted an arm as broad as Stulwig's thigh and he swallowed and glanced nervously down at the man on the pallet.
'It's a complex case, and there's no need to confuse you with medical terminology.' He cleared his throat. 'I am afraid '
'Now that I will believe!' Gilla snatched his satchel and held it to her massive breast.
'What - what are you doing? Give me that!'
'I don't need your leech's twaddle, nor your evasions either. Master Alten. You just find something in this bag of yours that will make my man well!' She thrust it back at him and he shrugged, sighed, and opened it.
'This is a stimulant, dograya. You steep it into a tea and spoonfeed him four times a day. It will strengthen his heart, and who knows, it may bring him around.' He tossed the little packet on the coverlet and rummaged around in the bag again, bringing out several yellowish cones wrapped in a twist of cloth. 'And you can try burning these - if the smell doesn't arouse him I don't know what will.' He straightened and held out his hand. 'Two sheboozim -gold.'
'Why Alien, I'm surprised - aren't you going to ask me to share your bed?' Gilla's laughter covered bitterness she had not allowed herself to feel for a long time as he blanched and looked away. She drew from between her breasts the thin chamois bag in which she kept her reserve of gold. There was more, hidden cunningly beneath floorboards or in the wall - even Lalo did not know where it was- but a house could burn. Better to keep something on her person against emergencies.
She slapped the coins into Stulwig's moist palm and watched, glaring, as he packed up his satchel and picked up the staff he had leaned against the door.
'The blessing of Heqt upon the healing -' he mumbled.
'And upon the hands of the healer,' Gilla responded automatically, but she was thinking, I have wasted my money. He doesn't believe his paltry herbs will do any good either. She listened to the hurried clatter of Stulwig's sandals on the stairs as he hastened to reach his own lodging before darkness fell, but her eyes were on Lalo's still face.
And suddenly it seemed to her that his breathing had deepened and there was the suggestion of a crease between his brows. She stiffened, watching, while hope fluttered in her heart like a trapped moth, until his features grew smooth again. She thought of the great waves that sometimes slapped at the wharves though the sky was clear, that fishermen said were the last ripple from some great storm far out to sea.
Oh my beloved, she thought in anguish, what bitter storms are raging in the far reaches where you wander now?
The children were waiting for her when she came out of the studio, all of them except for her oldest, Wedemir, who was ajunio"-master with the caravans. Her daughter Vanda had gotten leave from her Beysib lady when Gilla sent for her, and sat now with Alfi on her lap, looking at her mother with a fair approximation of the flat Beysib stare. Even her second boy, Ganner, had begged time from his apprenticeship with Herewick the Jeweller to come home. Only eight-year-old Latilla, playing with her doll on the floor. seemed oblivious of the tension in the room.
Gilla glared back at them, knowing they must have heard her argument with Alten Stulwig. What did they expect her to say?
'Well?' she snapped. 'Stop looking at me like a batch of gaffed cod! And somebody put the teakettle on!'
Lalo was following the scent, familiar as the stink of a man's own closestool, of sorcery.
He knew this much about the strange existence he was caught in now - even a dauber whose only magic had flowed through his . fingers could smell sorcery here, and though in that other life Lalo had been wary of wizards, he had not been quite wary enough, and that was the start of the road that had led him here.
There, for instance, was the gaudy presence of the Mageguild. a mixture of odours from the faint aromas of the magelings to the full-blown, exotic outpourings of the Hazard-class wizards who were their masters - a potpourri with all the mixed fascination of Prince Kitty-Cat's garbage bin. Here also was the alien tang of Beysib ritual, and the fuggy flavours produced by all the little hedge-wizards and crones, and the wavering scents of those who served in the temples of the gods.
But what he was seeking was not in the temples, though it came from a place that was close by - a house whose very foundations were sorcery. Someone was working a spell there even now, elegant magics that sent spirals of power smoking into the dim air. Lalo had known that flavour before, though he had not then recognized it - the unique atmosphere that surrounded Enas