“What's in it?” asked Syannis, wondering whether the Justicar had meant that as an invitation to throw the damn thing in his face.
“Would it bother you, Kol?” growled Kasmin.
“Sunlight, that's what's in it. And no, Kasmin, it wouldn't. Now when you're done helping thief-taker Fennis pick up all this mess, you can join me back on the deck.”
7
Whatever he had or hadn't seen in the passageway, the hard truth was that it was the only way out of the cabin. A child might have climbed out the windows and jumped and, if they were a strong swimmer, struck for shore. Syannis was neither, and so that left the passageway or staying where he was for however many hours it took for the sun to rise. So when Fennis and Kasmin had picked up all the papers and charts and tied them in bundles, Syannis had his sword in his hand, ready to go. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, almost hopping with nervous energy. Kasmin gave him a nod then waved something the shape of a large book at him.
“You want to know what's happening, I'll wager it's in here. A Taki ship's book this is.”
For a moment, Syannis paused, all ready to rip it open. Then he realised the absurdity of the idea. Now that Kol and his moon-glowing hands had gone outside, they could barely even see each other. And he was going to sit here and read a book of gods knew how many pages, looking for a clue to whatever they'd found? Presumably while the thing out there slaughtered Kakrim and Kol and anyone else who happened to be out there. Instead he glanced at the casket.
“Isn't there something we're supposed to do about that?”
Kasmin shrugged. “Like what?”
“I don't know. Bless it. Cast some sort of divine ritual over it. Purify it. Exorcise the evil. Something like that?”
Kasmin shrugged again. “It's just a lump of stone, prince. Save your blessing for things that move and kill. Besides, even if you're right, I'm no priest and neither are you.” They both glanced at Fennis, but Fennis was almost useless now. He was shaking.
“Don't ask me to think,” he snapped. “Don't ask me to do anything. Just get me off this curse-ship.”
As plans went, it seemed as good as any. There was the passageway, or there was sit and wait and see what eventually came along it. And Syannis had never been much of a sitting and waiting sort.
“Right.” He drew his sword again, and as an afterthought took the strange knife in his other hand. “Kasmin beside me, Fennis behind. Steady now and quick, but not too quick.” Kasmin with a sword beside him always felt good, felt certain. He'd grown up with that. Trained with that since he could hold a waster. Sometimes with Kasmin, sometimes with one of the others of his father's guard, but who it was didn't matter much, they all fought the same. They knew what to expect. Syannis would move one way and Kasmin would move another and neither of them would even have to look to know where the other was standing.
More shouting from outside, another unearthly scream. This time Syannis thought he heard Orimel's voice, powerful and strong. Invoking the name of the moon. Which meant the witch-breaker was alive and what he'd seen had either been something else or perhaps he hadn't seen it at all. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him.
No. He'd seen it all right. But still. . Orimel was out on the deck, fighting whatever was there to be fought, and so was were Kol and Kakrim. He stepped into the passageway, heart pounding, lips drawn back across his teeth. Think of Radek. Think he's out there waiting for you. Yes, that did the trick. He was up for a fight now, eager for it. .
And then they were at the end of the passage and climbing up onto the deck, and nothing had happened. He didn't even remember treading on anything slick on the floor.
Did I imagine it?
No time for that. Orimel was up on the fore-deck. The witch-breaker was wreathed in silver lightning. Moonbeams sprayed out of his hands, directed at. . at a hole in the middle of the deck, a hatch leading down into the bowels of the ship. Something was there, floating above it, shrouded in whirling shreds of howling darkness that battered the witch-breaker's moonbeams away. As Syannis stared, the thing shrieked again. So much for slipping aboard and slipping away again without being noticed. Never mind the nearby ships, they could probably see the the flashes of light and hear those screams all the way up in the Overlord's Palace on The Peak.
“Light a fire!” yelled Kol. “Burn it!” He was on the other side of the hatch, as far away from the thing as he could be. Kakrim was closer, pressed into a corner, close to their longboat down in the sea below.
“With what?”
“Anything!” The Justicar pelted across the deck to Kakrim. The thief-takers converged, swords all drawn, instinctively making taking a defensive stand. They were all on the wrong side of it, whatever it was, to help the witch-breaker. The noise and the howling were getting steadily worse, so even up close they had to shout to make themselves heard. The witch-breaker's evocations were almost lost now.
“What the bloody Khrozus is that?” Bawled Kakrim.
“How the bloody Khrozus would I know?” shouted Kol. “Burn it!”
“With what?”
“Whatever you've got that burns!”
“That would be nothing, then.”
“That's what you get for dragging us all out of our beds,” hissed Kasmin.
“Oh how bloody useless are you lot? Call yourselves thief-takers? Next time the city fancies spending its emperors on handling some trouble, I reckon I'll be going up Reeper Hill for a few of the ladies up there. Be a damn sight more use than you shower.”
“You do that, Kol” roared Syannis. The wind was battering them now, strong enough to flap the fallen sails on the deck and pick up loose ends of rope. The light around the witch-breaker was so bright that Syannis couldn't even look at him any more. “You bloody do that.”
“There won't be a next time,” shouted Kasmin. “If that thing doesn't kill him, I bloody will!”
“You want to burn it?” Kakrim ripped another vial out from an inside pocket and slammed it into Kol's hands. “You go burn it.”
“You know what, I will.”
Three quick strides was all it took, and then he was on the edge of the vortex. Kol's arm jerked back and then forward again and he stumbled hastily back. A golden light flashed in the howling dark; for a moment it almost fell still, and in that stillness, Syannis thought he saw the outline of a man, clutching his head, writhing in torment.
The light died. The man vanished. The shadows swirled once more, let out another shriek so loud it made Syannis; ears ring.
Abruptly, everything stopped. The noise, the movement, everything. A ball of sheer night hung over the centre of the ship, bathed in the fierce moonlight from the witch-breaker's hands, and that was all. The thief-takers held their breath. They watched. Waited. Didn't dare to even flinch.
“Well. .” Kasmin. He was the first to crack, but he didn't get any further than that. A rod of blackness shot out from the sphere, straight at the witch-breaker, straight into the middle him, throwing him backwards. He staggered, tripped, fell into a tumble of fallen ropes and sails. The moonlight that had surrounded him faded slowly into the night.
The floating darkness changed again. It took shape. Arms and legs and a head, that sort of shape. It turned towards the thief-takers and glided towards them.
“Oh. .” Syannis shrugged. He had had his sword, and that was that. He'd fight, if fighting actually made any difference. It didn't look like it would.
“Bollocks,” spat the Justicar. “That the word you're looking for?”
Syannis grunted. “Hadn't been looking for a word, really. More looking for which way to run.”
“Yup.”
They ran.