'That's a Fomorii Glakshi,' Jack cautioned. 'It's designed to leave the opponent with lethal wounds, not kill them outright.'
'That's good,' Mahalia said, missing his point entirely. It came with a simple leather scabbard, which she strapped on to a belt around her slim waist.
With disgust, Carlton refused all Mahalia's attempts to press a weapon on him. When she suggested that Jack arm himself, he shrugged and said mysteriously, 'I don't need one.'
As Caitlin watched Carlton's innocence manifest itself in his refusal to take a weapon, she felt a deep tide of affection that had been growing in her ever since she had first laid eyes on him. Here was all she had lost, and in him Caitlin also saw hope — for herself, as much as anything.
She knelt before him and rested her hands on his shoulders so that she could look deeply into his mysterious eyes. 'You're a very special boy, Carlton,' she said gently.
He smiled. Nearby, Mahalia's attention was drawn to the scene with a cold intensity.
In that instant, Caitlin was hit with a flash of insight.
Mahalia saw the shocked expression on Caitlin's face. 'What is it?'
Caitlin continued to stare into Carlton's eyes. 'Lugh told me there was someone very important, someone who could bring together all the different sides to… I don't know… save us all, make us better.' She stood up to address Matt and Mahalia. 'I think it's Carlton. Lugh wasn't giving anything away — just teasing me with bits of information — but he said this person would be drawn to the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.'
'You, in other words,' Matt said.
'Or one of the others like you,' Mahalia pointed out. 'The professor didn't say you were special or anything. Just that you were a champion… not the champion.'
'I know,' Caitlin said, 'but…'
'He is special,' Mahalia said with a grin.
'Then we'd better make sure we look after him.' Matt scrubbed Carlton's hair. 'Right, kid?'
Carlton's strange smile did nothing to disavow any of them of the notion.
'I'm already doing that,' Mahalia said. Her voice was hard, but her eyes looked strangely worried.
'And we're all going to help out,' Caitlin said.
They made their way out of the palace as quickly as possible, and were relieved not to meet anyone en route. But outside, Caitlin turned to them and said firmly, 'I want to stop off at the Sun.'
'To get Crowther?' Matt said. 'That's insane. You know he's adamant he doesn't want to come.' He glanced back in the direction of the palace, where the outcry was now growing. There was more activity near the walls, and he guessed that the Whisperers had embarked on another assault. It was time to go, whichever way they looked at it.
'I need to ask him one thing. Don't worry — it won't hold us up long.'
Matt could see that she would not be moved. They moved quickly off through the drizzle, keeping their heads down, staying close to the walls. Crowther was still in the same place, a little tipsy, but still not completely in his cups despite the amount of ale he must have consumed since Caitlin had left him. She motioned for the others to wait at the door while she went over to his table.
'You're not about to have another go at convincing me to leave, are you?' he said wearily.
'No. I can see that wouldn't do any good.' Relief tinged his smile. 'I just want one more piece of advice,' she continued.
He gave a drunken theatrical gesture for her to continue.
'What you said when we first came here,' Caitlin began, 'about this place being the first staging post of the dead… You meant it?'
'Absolutely. To the Celts, this was Otherworld, the Land of Always Summer… heaven.'
'And is it?'
The question was too big, too taxing; his shoulders sagged a little. 'Look around you… does it look like heaven?' He saw the flicker of sadness cross her face and softened his tone. 'There is some evidence to suggest that whatever remains of us after we die passes through here, en route to… somewhere else.'
'Go on.'
He looked surprised at her questioning. 'The Grey Lands… the Land of Mists. And from there on to the next place, whatever that might be… on for ever, for all I know. Learning a little bit more as we pass through each place. Then coming back here to close the circle, hopefully a little wiser, a few more steps down the road to nirvana. Why the sudden interest in metaphysics, Caitlin?' 'You say the dead pass through here,' she pressed on. 'How long do they stay in this place?' 'I don't know that…' 'But it's possible Liam could still be here… and Grant. That I could get to them before they move on.' He blanched. 'I don't think that would be a good idea, Caitlin-' 'Bring them back with me.' 'Don't go down that road-' 'Answer me!' Her voice was low, but her eyes blazed. 'Yes, it's possible-' 'Where would they be?' she demanded, feverishly talking over him. He sat back in his chair, folding his arms defensively. 'A long, long way from here, probably on the very edges of this land. The true nature of reality is clearer here. Nothing is fixed. Lands, dimensions — whatever you want to call them — are fluid, merging and mixing at the fringes. At least according to my limited knowledge.' 'And the dead…?' 'Would probably be at the point of greatest flux — the liminal zone between this world and what lies beyond — where energy exists in its purest form.' The smile that crept on to her lips troubled him immensely. 'Do you believe in coincidence, Professor?' 'Why do you ask?' 'Because that's the place I'm supposed to go to find the cure to the plague. Perhaps this is happening for a reason. Perhaps I'm being led there for my true task… to bring Liam and Grant home.' 'Oh, Caitlin, please don't do this to yourself.' Deep sympathy wiped the drunkenness from his brain. 'We need you, Professor. We need your knowledge. We can't do this on our own.' In her eyes, strange spirits danced; not Caitlin. Crowther felt a chill run through him. 'What are you-?'
The flagon came from nowhere; he hadn't even seen it clutched in her right hand. It smashed into the side of his head with a force that belied her size. In the brief instant before unconsciousness, a single thought flared: how sweet and innocent she looked, what darkness lay within… 'I don't think that was fair,' Jack protested as he led them through the myriad backstreets, so high up the mountainside that the court beneath them was swathed in cloud.
'She did what had to be done,' Matt grunted, hauling Crowther's heavy, limp frame as quickly as he could.
'She'd better not look down her nose at me again.' Mahalia chuckled coldly. 'She's the Queen Bitch round here. The poor old idiot only wanted a few drinks and an easy life. Now we're taking him to the ends of the world.'
Jack stopped at a simple oak door set into a sheer face of rock that rose up from the street for twenty feet.
'Is this it?' Matt asked. 'Shouldn't it be guarded or something?'
'I don't think they ever expected anyone to use it,' Jack said.
The only thing that held it shut was another rusty padlock, which Matt demolished with a single kick. 'Looks like we're out of here,' he said.
Caitlin pushed by him, her jaw set. 'Let's hope we're not going from bad to worse.'
Chapter Seven
'So many gods, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind.'
For three hours they trudged along the tunnel hewn through the rock, choking on the smoke from torches fixed intermittently along the walls. The mood was sombre and for the most part no one spoke.
Crowther came round a short way into the journey. Once he understood what had happened, he ranted and raged and attempted to force his way back up the tunnel, but Matt blocked his way and the brutal look in Caitlin's face forced the professor to accept the futility of his situation.