'Don't say that.'
She was surprised by the concern in his voice. 'I can't help it. Sometimes I wonder what's the point in going on. It's just misery all around us and misery waiting for us in the future. Sometimes I try to fool myself with optimism, hope, but the truth is always there, casting a shadow over anything. I wish I could feel pure again. I wish I could feel happy.'
She had the impression that Matt wanted to put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her, but he restrained himself, and while a part of her was glad he did, another just wanted to feel some human comfort. 'How are you holding up?'
'You cope, don't you?' he said. 'There's nothing else to do. Everybody's been trying so hard to hold things together since the Fall. It made us a Third World country overnight. Yeah, we've been clawing our way back — the interim government in Oxford is doing a good job…'
'Government? I never heard about that.'
'The news hasn't fanned out yet. You know what communication is like. I thought when Rosetta went, that was it. After Jan left, I was only really doing things for her — you know, getting through each day, making sure food was on the table, for what it was worth. But then I saw how everybody else was pulling together and I thought I was just being selfish for thinking about giving up. Now, more than ever, we need each other. I've got a part to play, however bad my personal situation.'
Whether he intended it or not, his words struck a chord with Caitlin. Their conversation dried up as she retreated deep into herself where the cold winds of the Ice-Field blew. By the time they'd got through the fog, night swathed the countryside and a heavy rain dampened their spirits.
Mahalia increased her pace until she was beside Crowther and then gripped his arm forcefully. 'I'm cold and I'm wet and I'm tired and I'm hungry,' she said. 'Where's this city?'
'They don't really make maps of this place,' Crowther replied with irritation. 'Now shut up — you sound like a whining brat.'
'Are you sure we're up to dealing with the things we're going to meet in this place?' Matt asked. 'The White Walker was about the most bizarre thing I could imagine, but at least it was friendly. We may not be so lucky next time.'
'I don't think we really have a choice, do we?' Crowther replied curtly.
Carlton began to tug on the professor's sleeve. Crowther rounded on the boy, then caught himself when he saw Mahalia and Caitlin's glares. 'What is it?' the professor said in clipped tones.
Excitedly, Carlton pointed across the sweeping grassland into the dark rain-swept distance. Gradually the others picked out flickering lights that they had first taken to be twinkling stars.
'I don't want to go there.' The tiny, frightened voice of Amy chilled them all. The fortress city rose up the side of one of the foothills into the dark, vast even in the part they could see illuminated by the light of the torches that blazed along the ramparts. A jumbled mass of towers and spires, domes, vaults, steeples and the pitched roofs of myriad smaller dwellings, all of them crammed so closely together that the city resembled some Third World sprawl, the layout so confused and organic that what lay beyond the light could have stretched on for ever.
The city walls at the front rose up two hundred feet or more, the lowest part of them constructed from gargantuan boulders, as if the city had grown naturally from the earth. An ebony gate six storeys high was set in front of a rough road that wound across the plain. On either side of it, roaring flames hissed in the rain.
If they hadn't known better, they would have said the city itself was alive, for it exuded an oppressive, brooding presence, and as they stood before those massive gates they couldn't escape the feeling that it was surveying them with a forensic eye to decide if they were worthy to enter. For the first time, Crowther was so disturbed that they all thought he might turn back, but after a moment's hesitation he marched forwards, held up his fist for one cautious instant and then hammered on the gate. The pounding that rang out from his knock was distorted beyond all reason into a deafening alarum that made them cover their ears. Beyond the gates, the thunderous warning ran along winding streets into the heart of the city.
'At least they heard us,' Crowther said. The humour fell flat. Caitlin/Amy clutched on to Matt's arm and whimpered. Carlton, however, held his head high and walked forward to stand beside Crowther. He appeared more curious than anything.
They waited in unbearable anticipation as the echoes rang out, eyeing each other fitfully. After long moments, they heard the clunk of some locking mechanism, and then the gates slowly ground open. There was no one on the other side.
It took a while for them to pick out the detail of what lay beyond the shadows clustered under the arch of the gate; not because it was dark, for torches burned everywhere, but because their eyes appeared to mist over, or because their brains took an unusually long time to piece together an image from the information they were receiving.
Eventually they agreed that a cobbled street wound up the hillside into shadow amongst houses of varying styles — most prominently medieval and Tudor — clustering so hard against the road that they threatened to swallow it. The claustrophobia was palpable.
All five of them hesitated, unsure if they should enter, until figures emerged from the shadows. They were men, barely more than five feet tall, clad in leather and steel that was not quite armour but not quite clothes. They had long hair and beards, but their eyes were the most disturbing thing. Flat and cold, they showed no personality, nothing human at all. Crowther made a strange, nervous noise in his throat and stifled it with embarrassment. 'We are visitors from the Fixed Lands,' he began. He'd practised the words a hundred times in his head, as he had learned in the college, but they still sounded strange. 'Do you accept us freely and without obligation?'
The cold, unnerving stares of the guards did not waver, but after a few seconds a slightly taller guard stepped forward from the group. Crowther was pleased to see a little more life in his eyes. 'Is that a Sister of Dragons I see before me?' His gaze was fixed on Caitlin.
Crowther followed his stare, unsure how to respond. 'If you say so.'
The chief guard nodded thoughtfully and motioned for them to enter. Matt began to step forward, but Crowther held him back with an arm across his chest. 'Do you accept us freely and without obligation?' Crowther asked again.
The chief guard eyed him slyly. 'We do. Now follow me.'
Caitlin/Amy buried her face in Matt's shoulder as they walked into the city and the gates boomed shut behind them. They were led through the steeply winding cobbled streets for nearly half an hour. Houses, inns and shops pressed oppressively on either side and leaned in over their heads so that only a thin sliver of sky was visible. Occasionally they would glimpse strange faces peering at them through bottle-glass windows that distorted the inner torchlight into starbursts. Sometimes they would hear whispered comments that they couldn't understand, but which disturbed them immensely. Finally they rounded a corner into a small cobbled square with a mildewed fountain, no longer working. The water in the stagnant pool around it was stained with green slime. On the far side stood a threatening building that towered over the surrounding rooftops. It echoed the construction of the city itself, monolithic walls soaring up into the darkness, devoid of ornamentation, like a slab of granite.
The leader of the guards turned to them with a strange smile. 'We bid you welcome to the Court of Soul's Ease.' Inside the enormous building — which they had decided was a palace or a city hall, though it contained none of the opulence one would have expected to find in either of those places — a chill exuded from the stone walls that penetrated deep into their bones. Impenetrable shadows lay all around and even the flickering torches that lighted their way did little to dispel them. The pervading atmosphere was one of waiting for a terrible event that could never be deflected.