'This is one of those little volcanoes, he told Salrana. Far below him, a verdant forest of palms and vrollipan trees boiled around the lower slopes before giving way to the rich fields that divided up the plain. He twisted his head and looked up. 'The top of the cliff is closer than the bottom. I think I can get there okay.
'Edeard! Be careful.
'Don't worry, he said. His farsight was examining the rock below the swarm of eaglevine. It was a rugged surface, providing innumerable hand and foot holds. He stretched out and secured a grip, then began to climb.
'I'll scout round ahead, Dinlay's soul said, and drifted upward. For the first time, Edeard began to envy the dead. The climb actually wasn't so easy. He had to use his farsight to locate every grip, then shove his hands through the scratchy vines. It was even more difficult to get his feet through, he was constantly having to use his third hand to part the ancient rope-like cords.
Over ten minutes after leaving the cave, the tips of the vines gave way to.bare rock. The cliff began to curve, and Edeard scrambled his way up off the rock and on to the slope of thin soil and reedy grasses.
He used his longtalk to tell Salrana: 'Made it. His third hand gripped her carefully, and he lifted her out of the cave and up through the air.
'I can't see anyone, Dinlay said. 'And there's a pavilion a quarter of a mile round the mountain, where the ground flattens out a bit. Nobody home.
'Thank the Lady for that, Edeard muttered.
He settled Salrana gently beside him. She produced a nervous grin. 'I think that was worse than the city tunnel, she said apologetically.
'We need to take cover and decide what to do, Edeard said. 'This way.
The pavilion was exactly as Dinlay indicated. Belonging to some Grand Family, it was perched on a moderate slope with its front looking towards Makkathran, some fifteen miles away from the base of the volcanic cone. Built mainly from wood, its frontage was a long veranda with an overhang supported by a series of wide arches. Small polygonal turrets on each end had high sweeping roofs. Its white paint was starting to fade, splitting open to peel away on some of the long boards. Green spores were taking hold in the cracks and corners.
The doors were closed but not locked. Edeard and Salrana walked across the pavonazzeto tiling to find a building that had already been closed for the winter. Furniture had been covered in thick sheets. Shutters were bolted. The oil lamps drained. Bedding, carpets and rugs had been taken away. The saucers of poison laid out for vermin.
'Not a lot of food in the kitchen, Salrana called out as she explored. Mars of fruit preserves and some flour. I suppose I
could bake a loaf if you like. There's some wood and coal for the stove.
Edeard had gone through the only bedroom out on to the veranda. The slope outside was in shadow now the sun was low in the sky on the other side of the volcano. He leaned on the handrail, staring out at the city. Just the sight of it produced an ache in his heart; he longed to return, to put things right. But too much had happened, Owain had destroyed everything of value. 'No fires, he said. 'Nor lights. They'll be looking for us.
She came out on to the veranda and put her arm round his shoulder. 'Of course. I wasn't thinking. What do we do?
'Get away, he said. 'Travel into the east and find a province where the Waterwalker is just a tale from the city that nobody really believes.
'Aren't you going to stay and fight?
'No. Owain and his kind are in power now.
'Nobody wanted them. People will expect you to do something.
'Buate was right, all I can do now is kill. That's not the answer.
'But, Edeard—
'No.
'I understand, she said solemnly. 'Come inside.
He let her lead him back into the big bedroom. Edeard settled back on the fat mattress, staring up at the ceiling while Salrana went back to rummaging in the kitchen. Now he'd actually stopped moving the pain in his legs and buttocks began plaguing him. The horse ride back to Makkathran had been brutal. When he probed his tender flesh he found his trousers were damp from blood and skin fluid. It hurt, making him wince.
'I sensed that, Salrana said, standing in the doorway holding on to a couple of large fruit jars.
He knew her farsight was concentrating on him, and didn't protest.
'Edeard! What have you done to yourself?
'I had to get back here, he said. 'We thought I might still have time. He knew the tears were going to spill out again. Even now he didn't want Salrana to witness that.
'Eat something, she said, and put a jar on the bed beside him. 'I'll have a hunt round for some medicine; there's bound to be some here somewhere. And, if not, I saw some falanpan leaves outside. I can make a poultice.
Edeard didn't have the energy to protest. The jar contained plums preserved in a sugary syrup. He ate several before she returned, holding up a tube of ointment.
'I didn't realize I was so hungry, he admitted. Then he had to grit his teeth as she gingerly stripped his trousers off. Her expression at the sight of his raw flesh wasn't reassuring. She did her best to brush her own concern away.
'This might sting, she warned, and began to rub the salve on
Edeard had to clamp his mouth hard shut to prevent the howl from leaving his throat. 'Lady! His fingers clawed the top of the mattress.
'I've finished, she said some interminable time later. 'That should start soothing the damage soon.
'I think it already has. That or you've burned the nerves away. His thighs were definitely easing.
'Don't be so mean, Salrana said smartly, and gave him a brief kiss. She pulled a furniture sheet over him. 'You rest now, I'm going to see if I can find some clothes.
'Keep a look out, he said. 'I need to know if anyone comes.
'Don't worry, she said. 'Nobody knows we're here. Nobody knows we can be here.
Edeard started to eat another plum. He was asleep before he finished.
Dreams claimed him. Not his usual bizarre visions of life elsewhere. These were his own. Mostly of Kristabel. Kristabel surrounded by flames. Men with rapid-fire guns circling round her, the roar of their weapons shattering his skull. Kristabel flying. Falling: her nightdress fluttering around her. The very same white nightdress she'd worn on the day they met. Falling down the central stairs in the ziggurat. The same stairs he'd started to reshape. Stairs that were now easy for the invaders to mount. Little Mirnatha screaming in terror as the ziggurat was consumed by the flame and bullets of the rapid-fire guns, clinging to her sister. Both of them falling from the tenth floor. A hand pushing them over the rail. Both screaming all the way to the floor. The hand was his own.
He cried out in torment. The sensation of something wrong was like a tidal wave of fear, threatening to send him plunging down into the infinite black of the abyss beneath the world. A pitiful broken thing on his way to Honious. Left behind by the Skylords. Left behind by Kristabel. Dinlay, Boyd, Macsen, Kanseen; all of them peered down from the rim. One by one they turned away.
'No, he begged, pleaded, wept. 'No, come back.
But they wouldn't because something was wrong.
He woke violently, back jerking off the bed as he clawed his way out of the abyss. Shaking with fear. It was still dark all around. Silent. He fought for breath against panic so strong it was throttling him. 'What! he demanded, and sent his farsight stabbing out.
The souls of Dinlay, Kristabel and his parents were clumped together by the end of the bed. Kristabel's arms were held out to him, radiating tangible concern.
'What? he repeated as his breathing became less frantic.
'Edeard, we've tried to wake you, Dinlay said. 'We tried hard. But you were so tired.
'I'm awake. When he squinted through the half-open door on to the veranda, he could see nebula-light washing the white-painted rails outside with familiar pastels. It must have been close to midnight.