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Part 3
CHAPTER ELEVEN
1
They slept through the morning, tired after their night on the water. Arising just before lunch, Kaledria said: 'After we've eaten I'll speak with Avassia about you staying here. But it'll be better if you're not present. She'll feel like she's under pressure if you are.'
'All right.'
They ate on one of the verandas, under the shade of a roof supported by elegant pillars of carved stone. Dappled sunlight fell upon the grass beyond. Scented air drifted from under the trees.
Hexiya was afraid during the meal - afraid that Avassia, for all her kindness, would refuse to have her here. When she returned to Kaledria's room and sat waiting, her heart beat hard in her chest.
But when Kaledria returned, it was at a run and with a big smile upon her face. She leapt onto her bed, sat down beside her and said:
'She said: "Yes."'
With lightened hearts they set off across Kohidra, to give Malajik the notebook they had found at the hideout. As they walked Hexiya found herself feeling a deep sense of gratitude and relief at the fact that she might stay with Kaledria and Avassia. Ever since her mother had been committed to the asylum she had felt unwanted and alone. Now she felt, if tentatively, a sense of belonging and a sense of being valued.
They found the old fisherman sitting at ease in the stern of his boat, smoking a pipe and reading an old history book. He looked up with obvious pleasure when they stepped onto the jetty.
After giving him the notebook they headed back home.
2
It took a while for the two of them to summon up the courage to tell Avassia about all that had happened to them and all that they knew - they discussed at length what they would say to her, and put it off. It was not until the evening that they finally confronted the matter.
They found her in her study. The suns were setting, throwing near-horizontal beams of deep crimson and violet light into the room through windows leaded in triangular fashion. Here, bookcases stacked with leather-bound tomes and sizeable scrolls held unnumbered written treasures. Drawers full of maps and charts lay open. A huge representation of the eastern ocean and all its archipelagoes and continents adorned one wall. In cases stood finely-wrought navigation equipment - sextants, compasses and more. There was a sense of mystery and adventure about the chamber.
Avassia was sitting behind her desk. She looked rueful when they entered. 'There's so much to put in order,' she said. 'I'm trying to make a record of all the places I've been to and all the routes I've sailed. I always kept my log-books up to date but I want to draw the best routes on some charts. When that's done, maybe you two would like to help me plan an adventure. We could go -' She halted and frowned when she saw how quietly serious the girls were. 'Are you two all right?' There was real concern in her voice. 'I've noticed you looking a bit anxious.' Looking at Kaledria: 'It's not like you to be silent or to stay still for long.'
'Something bad happened,' said Hexiya. And she proceeded to tell her everything, from the children that had been ambushed and killed to the failure of others to remember them; from the appearance of the stone man to the lights and objects they had seen from the fisherman's boat; from her mother's condition to the attack by Arak and his minions.
Throughout her story she half expected Avassia to stop her and pour scorn upon what she said. She worried she might get no further than she had when she and Kaledria had gone to the town guards. But to her relief the sailor-woman was attentive to her throughout her story, did not interrupt except for clarification and did not dismiss anything she said. Hexiya even felt a touch of guilt that she had thought she might be disdainful or contemptuous. Avassia, she more fully realised, was neither arrogant nor judgemental. She was, as Kaledria had once said, wise.
The sea-captain was still and silent for a long while after she had finished. Her eyes were hooded, her face rather anxious. Though it was getting dark outside she did not stir to light candles but brooded and thought. And then she asked a lot of questions, covering every angle of what the girls had seen, in all the detail that the two of them had already discussed so many times over between themselves.
Eventually, in near darkness, Kaledria walked around the room with a taper. She lit huge, violet candles at each corner, and smaller red ones within each alcove. Upon the great desk she brought to life a green-flamed oil lamp.
'I might have been tempted to disbelieve some of what you said,' said Avassia at last. 'But I've seen enough inexplicable occurrences on the oceans that I'll allow the truth of it. I also know the two of you aren't liars.' She shrugged. 'I'm glad you told me.'
She stood and walked over to a chest of heavy black wood. She rested her hands upon the carved lid for a moment, as if considering. Then she opened it and removed a pair of crossbows - small weapons designed to be held one-handed. She placed them on the desk, then brought out two cases of steel-tipped bolts. To these she added four small knives with leather sheaths and straps. They were clearly designed to be concealed around the body.
'Here,' she said. 'Hopefully you'll not need them but it is as well to be prepared for trouble. Practise with the crossbows. But be very careful not to hurt yourselves.'
Later the three of them went to the kitchen to make some tea. Sitting at the breakfast table they talked some more; but eventually, as the night deepened, Avassia said: 'Let's get some sleep. I need to think about all this. Perhaps I'll call in some of my old crew and try to get to the bottom of it. We'll talk in the morning.'
3
Avassia retired to her rooms and Kaledria and Hexiya went to theirs. When they were gone, a shadow slipped from behind one of the pillars that lined the passage on the east side of the atrium.
The house-maid made her way silently down the hallway of the south wing. Passing through the doorway at its end - an entrance Avassia always kept bolted - she slipped a key from her pocket, locked it behind her, and stole out into the night.
From where she had been standing she had been able to overhear some of the conversation that had taken place in Avassia's study. Not much of it - that little bitch Kaledria, with her near-supernatural ability to know when anyone was nearby, would have detected her if she had crept any closer. But she had heard enough.
Now she had people to find. People who would pay her well for what she had learned. People who would give her -
Her mind shied away from what her reward would be. She could not quite remember what it was that she had been promised. Something dark. Something awful. Something wonderful.
4
Hexiya dreamed again that night. As soon as it began she knew that it was not an ordinary dream but something more.
She found herself standing before a tall silver mirror. Gazing into it she regarded her reflection.
To her surprise she was a grown woman. Her features were clearer, her green eyes with deeper depths. Her lips were slightly fuller, her blonde hair thicker but cut fairly short. She wore delicate makeup of pale violet and black. Her compact body was graceful and surprised her with its fullness and muscular strength. Others, she guessed, might find her quite lovely.
She looked young still, but old enough to have wisdom and experience. Though she was beautiful she was not unmarked. She looked like a truly exceptional woman. A surge of hope rushed through her at the thought that this was who she might become.
Turning away from the mirror, she faced an open archway. Beyond it was a desert of red-gold dunes that flowed between soaring peaks of black rock. A vast orange sun took up quarter of the sky. Its blasting heat was almost intolerable.
A thought came from nowhere:
Obenaia. I've been here for a year now. It's time to move on.
The thought vanished as quickly as it had come. Though she had recognised it as her own it had also felt like someone else's. Her elder self's, perhaps.
Then the dream ended. Deeper sleep engulfed her but soon gave way to another vision.
She found herself standing on the summit of a mountain of ice. Dressed in heavy furs, she pulled her hood back and looked up.
The sky was poorly illuminated by a small and feeble sun. Streamers of green and mauve gases crossed the vault. Stars shone between them, bright and dense - motes and drifts of silver and blue. The constellations were nothing like any she had seen before. Still she felt that she should recognise them.
Which world is next? she wondered. How many have I visited and how many more are there to go to?
She pulled her hood close about her again, keeping out the frigid breaths that crossed the glassy ice of the plains far below and whispered over the peak of frozen water. Unfastening a pocket with a mittened hand she brought out a rectangle of crystal.
Looking into its surface she found that she was staring at a picture of Kaledria. Not Kaledria as a girl but Kaledria as a woman - tall, beautiful, alluring and magnificent. The spectacular shape and strength of her body were wrapped in an astonishing dress of red satin. Gold and ruby jewellery glittered and dripped upon her. A circlet was set upon her head. At her back was a throne of carved wood. Kaledria's amazing ice-blue eyes seemed to gaze into the distances.
As this dream ended, Hexiya fell back into a long, unbroken and peaceful time of rest.
5
She awoke softly and gently, slowly rising into warm and blissful consciousness. She had slept well. Morning sunlight shone through the wide windows. Of Kaledria there was no sign.
She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water upon her face. Abruptly she remembered her dreams. Standing motionless for long moments, she stared at the silvery drops of water that fell from her cupped hands.
Something seemed to stir within her mind. Something deep, profound and terrifying. Wonder and awe and fear mixed in her. She felt suddenly, appallingly vulnerable and open.
She dried her face with a towel and then rushed through the house. She found Kaledria on one of the patios, sitting in the shade and reading a book.
'Hexiya?' Her friend, seeing her expression, was instantly concerned.
She sat down next to her. Then, haltingly, she told her of the visions she had had.
When she was finished they sat in silence for a while. Kaledria ran her fingers through Hexiya's hair and stroked her bowed head. 'They were just dreams,' she murmured.
Hexiya shook her head and sighed. 'I don't know. Do other people have dreams like that? It was as though I remembered them. Both visions were filled with a sense of recognition that was so strong it was like a hammer beating a gong, deep within my mind.'
'But how could that be possible?' asked Kaledria, her voice very soft.
And Hexiya looked sideways at her for a long moment, real fear in her eyes. 'How can a lot of the things that have happened recently be possible? And yet they happened.'
They looked around as the door behind them opened. Avassia came out carrying a jug of fruit juice and a tray laden with pastries hot from the oven. Hexiya, on meeting her gaze, felt her heart sink. Gone was the concern of the previous night. Gone was the strength and resolution of a sea-captain dealing with a difficult problem. The yellow-haired woman was too relaxed, her smile too carefree, her eyes strangely bright.
'I hope you have time to help me eat this food before you leave for school,' she said, setting down the tray.
Kaledria, disconcerted, said: 'What about what we talked about last night? You said you'd think about it, come up with a plan.'
Avassia's smile did not flicker but a slight look of confusion crossed her brow. She seemed to struggle for a moment to remember something, then to dismiss whatever it was as insignificant. 'It's a beautiful day, isn't it,' she said. 'Not quite as hot as yesterday. Are you going to play any sports at school?'
Both girls proceeded to eat in silence. They finished quickly and excused themselves.
'She doesn't remember!' said Kaledria in an urgent whisper as they went back to their room. 'And she's not herself either.' There was real fear in her voice, not so much for herself but for Avassia, who had become a loving mother to her.
They slumped down on her bed. Hexiya felt a welling up of sadness and despair within her. 'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'I just don't know what to do. I don't understand any of this.'
Abruptly and with sudden resolution, Kaledria stood up. Hexiya regarded her, worried but curious.
'Let's go to school,' said the northern girl. 'If there's nothing we can do, maybe we'll just have to wait. Maybe we'll have to wait until something or someone tries to do something to us again. And when it happens, maybe we can beat it. If not, it might at least show us a way forward.' She shrugged and smiled an ironic smile. 'I also suggest we pretend that nothing at all is wrong. If we act as if nothing is wrong, perhaps nothing and no one will feel the need to deal with us. It could give us a kind of safety.'
CHAPTER TWELVE
1
For three days it seemed to work. They went to school, went shopping in the marketplace, ate Avassia's wonderful meals. They studied, roamed the woods outside town, prowled the seafront. Most of all they enjoyed each other's company. If not for the constant fear that they felt and the sense of menace that they perceived over the town of Kohidra, it would have been a good time.
On the third day they went to the asylum to see Hexiya's mother. The guard at the entrance merely nodded to the girls and let them in. He did not mention what had happened to her.
Hexiya knocked upon the door to her mother's room, then pushed it open. She took one step across the floor and stopped dead.
'What -' said Kaledria. Then she too saw the ragged holes that gaped in the floor - a trail of five that led from the doorway to the stone seat where Havena sat, manacled by her left wrist to the wall.
Hexiya rushed around to the front of the chair. Relief rushed through her as she saw that her mother was breathing steadily and that her face was as serene as ever. She even thought, as so often before, that she could see a slight smile in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth - pleasure at seeing her, perhaps.
Then she saw the stump of Havena's right wrist, neatly bandaged and wrapped, resting upon her lap.
'Mother,' breathed Hexiya. 'Mother, what happened? What happened? I'm so sorry.' And she leaned forwards and took the still, placid, unresisting woman in her arms, wetting her cheek with her tears.
A while later the two girls looked at the holes in the floor - ragged gashes that had shattered the stone flags and penetrated to the ground beneath.
'They start at the doorway,' said Kaledria. 'There's no damage at all to floor of the hall outside.'
'As if the stone man just materialised,' agreed Hexiya. 'And then vanished.'
'Someone's coming.'
A few seconds later a man entered the room - a doctor, judging by his attire. Red-faced and obese, he was sweating badly in the heat. 'Visitors, hmm?' he said a gravelly voice.
The two girls said nothing, though Hexiya gave him a slight nod.
'Amazing what she did,' continued the doctor. 'Who would've thought she was capable of smashing up the floor like this? She badly damaged her hand though.' He rubbed his jowls reflectively and seemed curiously satisfied by the thought that Havena had done such a thing. 'I knew she had violence in her,' he continued. Then, seeming to really see Hexiya for the first time he said: 'You're her daughter aren't you? There's nothing to be done you know.'
'We have to get home,' said Kaledria. And she and Hexiya took their leave.
2
Arak's family lived in a basement apartment of a run-down and ancient mansion. Beyond its rear wall was a wharfside tavern. By day and night they were exposed to the noise of the place, muffled as it was by the brickwork - the roaring of drunks, the scrape and boom of barrels being shifted, cooks shouting, the thuds and yells of occasional brawls. Somehow the odours of the place penetrated the barrier as well - the scents of smoke and sweat and beer.
The apartment itself was as run down as the rest of the building. The floors were of old and rotting boards, the walls were flaking and plaster was coming away from the ceilings. Ancient furniture mouldered and decayed, ridden with insects.
Arak sat in a threadbare armchair and ignored the discomfort of its broken springs. In front of him was an empty fireplace. Behind and above him was a solitary street-level skylight set into the pavement. Passers by sometimes walked over it, their shadows passing swiftly across the room beneath.
His shoulder was heavily bandaged. It hurt badly - worse even than after it had been injured. It smelled bad too, giving off a faint odour of putrefaction.
Hate writhed in him when he thought of Kaledria. Confusion and anger mixed and seethed when he thought of the stone man. It should not have gone like that, the attack on the two girls. He and his followers should have overpowered them and done as they wished with them. Instead they had escaped and he had been hurt. Him. Not Hexiya, not Kaledria, but him.
He felt hot and shivery. His joints ached. Sweat beaded his brow. All Kaledria's fault. Malice twisted his face into a vile mask.
Vaguely he wondered why he had not already tried to take his revenge on her. But something had stopped him from taking action each time he had thought about it.
You're just afraid of her , said a voice in his mind. But he pushed the thought away. It could not be admitted.
His father entered the room, his footsteps heavy and uneven. He reeked of cheap liquor and stale smoke. His square face was unshaven and flushed. His eyes were red and bleary. In all his life Arak had rarely seen him sober. Now he was barely able even to walk. Perhaps it was a good thing. At least his violent rages had subsided as he had become increasingly weakened and rotted by drink. Arak's childhood had been witness to his former brutality.
The old man regarded him, bloodshot blue gaze within bruised surrounds. 'You got a girl?' he grated as he took a battered pipe from his pocket. His big hands shook as he lit up.
'I will have,' replied Arak, his voice sullen and resentful. Kaledria. He would have her. He did not doubt it.
His father nodded his heavy head. 'Good for you. Bring her here. We'll keep her.'
'In the spare room?'
'Why not? There are bars on the window, chains on the door. That whore your brother brought lasted several months in there.'
The thought of his brother making use of Kaledria twisted suddenly in Arak's mind. No. She was his. Not for anyone else.
'Won't share your girl?' said the old man, smoke coming from his mouth as he spoke. A contemptuous smile split his face.
'Did you share my mother?'
Anger flashed suddenly in his father's eyes, ugly wrath in a repulsive visage. 'Why don't you ask her? Find out how much she enjoyed me?'
'Where do you keep her these days? Under the boards in your bedroom?'
'Not now, no. She asked to be moved to that old chest in the scullery.' Smoke jetted from the old man's nose as he chuckled to himself.
Arak considered. The chest was very small. But then, since she had asked for her legs to be cut off, she did not take up so much space.
3
Late in the afternoon Arak walked along the wharves north of the harbour. Scrambling down to the beach beyond them he made his way to the cave - his cave. He glanced along the top of the low cliffs, checking that no one was watching him. Then he clambered up over the boulders at their base and ducked through the entranceway.
Fully clothed, he sat in the pool on the cave floor. Dankness surrounded him. He inhaled the smells of sea-wrack and brine. He waited as it grew dark outside and the tide began to come in.
Deep into the night he waited. Waves swirled about him in the darkness and lapped noisily at the walls. They rose higher and higher about him, to his chest and then to his neck. And still he waited.
At last, long after midnight, a heavy thud echoed and vibrated around him. It was followed by a cracking, creaking noise from the entrance. The seawater rushing in over the lip shivered and trembled.
Arak could barely make out the form of the stone man - huge and broad and menacing. His hat with the drooping brim was still on his wide head and his cloak trailed and pulled in the waves.
Slowly the awesome figure stepped and swayed inside, staggering as the rocks shattered beneath his feet. The noise became muffled by the deepening water.
He stopped in front of Arak. When he spoke his voice, like the grating of boulders, shook the whole cave. 'I told you, you would have what you desire,' he said. 'For this I told you to bring me Hexiya. You have not. Is she such difficult prey to catch?'
Arak stared. He could sense the implacable mission in the monstrosity before him - the black, unending determination, the machine-like will to find her. It would never, ever stop, he realised. Not until it had what it wanted. At the same time he realised that maintaining its semi-human form tired it - that it could keep its solidity only for a while before collapsing and struggling to reform itself. Perhaps that was why its search for Hexiya had been limited. Perhaps that was why it had asked him for help. And yet . . . 'Why do you not just go to her?' he asked.
The stone man did not shift nor seem surprised by the question. He merely said: 'I cannot sense her. I cannot see where she is. She is hidden from me. But not from you.'
Even as Arak opened his mouth to say something, the stone man leaned forwards like a cliff ready to crush him under its weight. 'You're afraid,' he said. 'Terror is within you. I can see it. Coward! What are you afraid of?' Then the stone man turned his head a fraction and Arak felt as if something was being torn out of his mind, as if a hook had jammed itself in his brain and suddenly been ripped free. 'Her friend,' said the stone man then. 'Kaledria. So that's who you fear.'
With a cry of startlement Arak lurched to his feet. He stumbled backwards in the surging water, arms flailing to keep himself upright. He gasped at the pain the movement caused in his shoulder. Then: 'No!' he said. His shame was a hot knot in his chest. 'I'll bring Hexiya to you.'
'When?'
Arak found himself shaking. His fever seemed suddenly worse. Looking down he saw that his whole left arm was swollen. It ached abominably. 'I'll go now,' he said. 'I'll bring her.'
4
Hexiya, Kaledria and Avassia were passing the evening in the living room. The sea-captain was sitting in a large leather-bound armchair by the huge, empty fireplace. The two girls occupied the large sofa opposite her. It was late and they were talking by candlelight. Each held a mug of tea.
Hexiya liked to listen to Avassia's stories of the oceans she had sailed, the strange places she had visited, the sea-creatures she had encountered, the people she had met, the scrapes she had been in. She was a wonderful storyteller, all the better because she did not try to embellish or exaggerate or impress. What she had experienced did not need to be adorned with hyperbole.
The heat of the night and the candles that burned in the grate lent atmosphere to her tales.
A bell rang - a single deep toll. It was the bell by the gate, rung by someone outside the walls of the grounds.
Avassia, unconcerned, stood up and went to see who it was.
Fear flooded through Hexiya in a single great wave. It smashed through the pleasant sleepiness that had been gathering in her as the night had grown late. Adrenaline surged in her belly and she leapt to her feet. 'They're here!' she whispered urgently to Kaledria.
Blue eyes flashed. The northern girl knew too. 'We should hide.'
Kaledria grabbed a candle and hastened down the hallways to the wing where they had their room. Once there, they leapt over Kaledria's bed to the curtained alcove behind it. Within was a narrow wooden ladder. Swiftly and silently they climbed up through a trapdoor into a wide, low attic. Then they closed the way behind them.
Crossing to one corner of the attic, Kaledria pulled a panel away from the wall. Beyond was a long, narrow triangular passage - the space within the sloping roof that overhung one side of the atrium.
After crawling within they pulled the panel back into place. Then they looked ahead.
Illuminated by the flickering light of the candle Kaledria held, small triangles of wooden supports diminished away from them. Tiles and beams sloped on the left, a stone wall was on the right, and loose boards made up the floor.
They crawled along for a few yards until an entrance opened on their right. A few yards later they emerged into a wider loft space with passages to right and left. From here it would be easy to go anywhere they wanted within the roof of the house.
5
Avassia reached the bottom of the drive. There were four town guards waiting outside the gate - three men and a woman. She could see them clearly enough by the light of the blue, red and yellow moons that rode low over dust-hazed Kohidra.
For a long moment she regarded them through the iron latticework. They were dressed in burnished chainmail and were armed with swords and bolt-throwers. Light glinted dully upon their helms. They were strong-looking people and had an air of authority about them. Nevertheless she saw that they were young.
'Sorry to disturb you,' asked one - a dark-skinned man with a pleasant manner. 'You are the owner of this house?'
Avassia nodded.
'We've been searching for a runaway. A girl called Hexiya. She's eleven years old. We were told she's been living here.' The man's tone had changed a fraction, revealing a measure of determination. Avassia realised that he was quite certain of his information.
'What do you want with her?' she asked.
'Only to take her home. Her guardians asked for our help. They've been very worried about her.'
Avassia frowned, remembering how Kaledria had asked her to let Hexiya stay. She had said that Hexiya had been living in fear of her guardians and that she would be in danger if she continued to stay with them. She had also said that she doubted her guardians would ever want her back.
But apparently they did.
A feeling of wrongness surged through Avassia. She thought for a moment, then said: 'I did see her. Three days ago my daughter asked her if she could stay over.'
The man waved a gauntleted hand, a gesture of dismissal. 'We know she's here,' he said. 'Please make this easy on yourself.'
Avassia looked down, then up at him. 'All right,' she said, fixing him with her lambent yellow gaze. She knew in her gut that Hexiya was a good child and was suddenly very worried about her. She also knew that Kaledria had told the truth about the danger she might be in. Now she wanted to have the chance to ask Hexiya exactly why she had run away. She wanted an answer before the town guard hauled her away. But as they would not be put off, she said: 'If you must have her now, I'll not try to stop you. However, I will come with you as you take her back to her guardians' home. And I'll have a careful look at them. And if they don't seem right to me then we'll review where we stand. Does that seem fair?' She allowed a touch of unanswerable determination to enter her voice - a hint of the power of command that she had wielded so often as the captain of a trading ship.
The dark-skinned man's eyes widened slightly. He knew he was outclassed. 'Very well.'
She opened the inner gate and let them in, then led the way up to the house.
Though they searched at length for Hexiya and Kaledria, there was no sign of them at all.
6
Voitan and Serriss sat at the old wooden table in their kitchen. Though they faced one another, they merely stared at the scored wood between them, seeing nothing. Their heads were bowed slightly forwards. They were quite motionless. A closer inspection would have revealed that they were not even breathing.
They had been that way for several days.
There was a slight movement in the hot, heavy air, as of a door being opened. In the hall beyond the kitchen there was a heavy thud and the creak and snap of splintering stone.
The stone man lurched slowly past the open arch to the kitchen. He did not look in. Nevertheless the heads of Serriss and Voitan both turned slowly towards him - puppet heads, mannequin heads, with waxy eyes staring unseeing as he passed.
He entered the living room. Tipping his head slowly back he regarded the hideous tribal masks that were set upon the high shelves. They would do, he thought. Servants that might prove more effective than the ones he had tried to recruit here, if only he could maintain his form long enough to animate them.
As he worked, an awesome, terrible and yet familiar rage built within him. It flowed like currents of lava within the mantle of a planet - slow, unseen but capable of volcanic fury.
This anger was always inside him. It was the thing which drove him on. It would only cease when he had fulfilled his purpose.
His purpose . . . It was not a human thing. Being inhuman, he did not have human motives. Rather he was elemental, a force that pushed in a single direction, with a single reason for all that he did.
His purpose was nothing less than the total annihilation of life in this plane of existence.
7
Kaledria and Hexiya waited for a while after the town guards had gone. Then they made their way back to their bedroom and ran to find Avassia.
They found her in the library. By the yellow light of a pair of oil-lanterns she was looking through the shelves of books. She did not seem surprised when they entered. She merely said, with a wry smile at the corner of her mouth: 'Perhaps you'd better tell me what's going on.' And she sat down at a reading table and waited for their story.
And so, once again, they started to tell her of all that they had seen and all that had happened, though they fully expected her to forget it all before morning. But this time she did not really seem even to hear what they said. She kept frowning, tapping her fingers as if distracted, and responding in ways that were irrelevant. At length they gave up.
'Well,' said Avassia as they came to a stumbling halt. She gave Hexiya a long look. 'I'm not going to force you to return to your guardians. But if the town guards catch you, there's not a lot I can do about it. Although I will come as quickly as I can to make sure you are all right.'
'Thank you, Avassia,' said Hexiya. A flood of emotion welled up in her. It deeply moved her that the sea-captain had been so kind to her and was still concerned about her.
'You're welcome,' said Avassia, smiling at her. Then her thoughts seemed to be drawn elsewhere again, as if other, more urgent things demanded her attention.
'What were you looking for?' asked Kaledria.
Avassia looked up. 'Hmm?'
'Among all these old books, I mean.'
'Oh.' She shook her head and ran her fingers through her long yellow hair. 'After the town guards left I went into the garden for a while. And I saw a light in the sky. It was very bright and it was moving over the hills to the west. Not in a straight line but in a rather erratic series of curves and dips, almost like a strange kind of dance. It certainly wasn't a star or planet, nor yet a comet or meteor. I don't think it was just my imagination either. I felt . . . I felt afraid. Like it represented a real and dangerous threat.' She shrugged slightly and bit her lip. 'Well, strange phenomena are no rarity out on the oceans. So I thought I'd have a look in some of the old texts and see if I could find any descriptions of similar occurrences.'
'Did you have any luck?'
'I found one book that is full of references to such things. It seems that there have been more such sightings than I would have imagined. And usually they have been accompanied by the subsequent sinking of the ships from which men saw them.'
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1
Hexiya awoke at first light. Across the room from her Kaledria was still asleep, breathing deeply and peacefully.
She lay still, enjoying the warmth of her bed and listening to the birdsong that came from outside.
A cool breath of air touched her face, pleasant and surprising after the unrelenting heat of the past few months. It came from one of the ceiling windows, which was open a fraction. She was glad to think that the hot weather might finally have turned.
Then ice crawled up her spine and her breath caught in her throat as realisation hit her - they had not opened any of the windows before going to bed.
She glanced around, then crawled out from under the covers and over to Kaledria. She shook her awake, her hand gently rocking her head.
Kaledria's eyes blinked open.
'Shh.' Hexiya place her finger over her mouth and widened her eyes.
The northern girl sat up, looking around, evidently trying to throw off the confusion of sleep.
Then, at the same time, the girls saw a black shape shift against the ceiling in one corner of the room. Hexiya gasped. It was a mask - a mask from Voitan and Serriss's living room. Even as she watched, it turned towards her. Snake-hair spilled over the side of its face. Eyes that were green, red and violet whirls regarded her. Black wood carved in a vile parody of anger shifted and flowed. Wooden lips pulled back to reveal long steel fangs like needles.
It moved again and she realised that behind it was an insubstantial, semi-transparent body - she could see the marble ceiling right through it. It had long, impossibly-spindly limbs and a stick-like torso. Though it was humanoid in form, it crawled like a spider.
It crouched for a moment, upside down. Its spiral eyes did not shift from her. Then, with explosive speed, it leapt from the ceiling, straight at her.
She threw herself aside and skidded across the floor. It crashed down where she had been an instant before, its clawed hands scrabbling for purchase as it slid across the marble and fetched up against a wall.
Hexiya thrust herself to her feet. She leapt for the crossbow she had left on her bedside table. But already the thing had turned and crouched. As her hand closed on the butt of the weapon, it jumped with impossible swiftness.
Even as it flew across the room, she heard a click and a thud. The mask snapped sideways as if it had been hit by a sledgehammer. The body twisted after it, describing a spiral as it tumbled. As it flashed past her she glimpsed a crossbow bolt lodged in the heavy wood of its forehead. Then it crashed into one of the pillars of the archway to the corridor. A large fraction of the bottom of the mask, torn off by the impact, skittered across the floor and fetched up at her feet. It was moving still, as if trying to speak, or to bite with the fangs that jutted from it.
Looking up, Hexiya saw Kaledria crouched on her bed, crossbow in hand. She was wide-eyed and breathing hard.
'Good shot,' Hexiya managed to say.
'Thanks.' Kaledria was already loading a new bolt and levering back the string.
The mask was twitching still, turning slowly at the foot of the column. There was no sign of the body it had possessed. Now it was just an animated face.
Hexiya picked up a heavy clothes chest. Barely able to lift it, she staggered forwards and dropped it on the thing. There was a bang and a crack of breaking wood.
She stepped back, gasping.
'Get down!' cried Kaledria.
She ducked but she was too late. The window on her left shattered inwards. A heavy stone struck her shoulder and shards of glass raked her. She felt pain flash across the side of her face. Blood was hot in her mouth.
'They're everywhere!' hissed Kaledria.
Hexiya saw three of them at the window, clambering over the sill and over each other. Two others were peering down through one of the room's skylights. Even as she saw them, one brought its forehead down against the glass, smashing it and tumbling through after it. From down the corridor there was the noise of a yet another shattering window.
Outside, in the gardens, she saw at least ten more masks on spider-limbed bodies. With impossible agility they leapt and sprang across the lawn, heading for the broken panes.
Behind them, with a fixed and loathsome smile on his sickly face, walked Arak.
Hexiya lurched back towards where she had left her crossbow. She swung it to her shoulder just as the masks that had come down through the skylight leapt at her. At point blank range she shot one, and the bolt went straight through the centre of its face, splintering the wood and cracking it right through.
Then the other one hit her. Its horrible, spidery limbs wrapped around her. Claws scratched and mauled. Then the steel-fanged maw snapped down at her and bit through her shoulder. Its movement was incredibly fast, maniacal and voracious, as if it lusted for her blood above all else.
She desperately tried to throw the thing off her, and might have succeeded. But then another one hurtled down upon her and enveloped her in its grasp; and a moment later, yet another. Losing her balance, she went down under a flurry of slashing claws and clashing teeth and clutching limbs that caught her like an obscene, twitching net.
She cried out as fangs ripped into her face, then again as a maw ripped a chunk out of her side. Blood spattered upwards and across the floor.
2
Kaledria leapt high. A mask rushed underneath her. As she came down, another one threw itself at her. Bringing her foot up she kicked it hard, sending it spinning across the room.
She sensed another one behind her; span and crouched, grabbing her crossbow. As the thing rushed at her she brought the butt hard across the side of its writhing face. Black wood shattered from the blow.
Seeing Hexiya struggling underneath a maul of the things, she threw herself across the room. With her crossbow she managed to smash one away from her.
Then something heavy struck her on the back of her head. It was a terrible, crushing blow. For a moment the whole world seemed to come apart. Agony mixed with confusion and disorientation. Her thoughts flew away from her as if her head had shattered.
She was not aware of falling, but fetched up on her back on the floor. The ceiling was a swirling dimness above her. Noise and movement was all around and she heard someone cry out - Hexiya, in pain.
Then, into her field of view, stepped a shadowy figure.
It was Arak. His face was swollen and grey and his eyes were filmed with blood. As he looked down at her she saw a curious mixture of contempt and horror and yearning in his expression. There was heat behind his gaze too, and hatred.
He stooped and picked up a large object from where it lay beside her. A stone, she saw. Blood was on one side of it and a clump of hair was stuck to the clotting redness. Black hair. Her hair.
'You're not the only one who can throw stones,' he said.
She closed her eyes and blacked out.
3
Hexiya lay still. The masks held her tightly, their spidery limbs binding her like cords of steel. A gruesome visage of red and black wood hovered six inches in front her face. Its eyes were small, jetty beads. Within its gaping mouth was a wreckage of yellowed human teeth. Knotted black hair fell around it, brushing against her cheeks. The smells of dust and old wood came from it, triggering memories of the living room at her guardians' place.
Everything hurt. Her lips were mashed and bloody. The side of her face was badly gashed. Worst, her side ached abominably where she had been bitten.
Then she saw Arak squat beside her. He reached to her face. From her cheek he removed a sliver of glass. Sitting back on his heels, he regarded it. As he turned it slowly it glinted in the light.
'Perhaps I should put it back,' he said. 'But it was so unsightly where it was. Maybe I'll put it in the other cheek instead.'
He did so and she cried out as he pushed it into her.
'Do you hate me, Hexiya?' he asked. 'I hope so. I want you to think of me when you're dying. I want you to know that I helped kill you. I won and you lost. Though I can't have you, I will have Kaledria. After I've taken you to your death, I'll take her for my own, I'll use her and hurt her. How long will she last, do you think? She's strong. Maybe it'll take a long time for her to die. And when she does, and I'm finished with her, I'll come here and I'll kill your friend the sea-captain. And then I'll go to the asylum and I'll kill your mother. I won't stop, Hexiya. Not until there's no one left.'
He stood up. 'Time to go now,' he said. 'There's someone you have to meet.'
The masks lifted her, six of them carrying her over their heads. She could not move - her arms and legs were held rigid.
They marched her out of the house.
' Avassia! ' she screamed. ' Avassia! '
'She can't hear you, you know,' said Arak from behind her, as he followed her. 'She's asleep. Probably she's having some very pleasant dreams.'
They carried her to the wall at the back of the garden. Though it was ten feet high, the masks hardly slowed as they crawled up it. Their claws just dug into the rock and they hauled themselves over. They even helped Arak to follow them.
Out into the woods they went, heading westwards and northwards around the town. The suns were ascending into the sky, their heat stirring the air, banishing the comparative coolness of the dawn. Hexiya, held on her back, could only stare upwards at the arching boughs and drooping leaves above her. The sky beyond was a hot lavender colour, hazy but cloudless.
When they neared the houses at the western edge of the town, Hexiya readied herself to scream for help. But even as she took a deep breath, Arak punched her in her side - right where she had been hurt.
She screamed anyway, with pain, unable to stop herself.
'Make any more noise and you'll really wish you hadn't,' he hissed.
It took them a while to navigate the few streets that they had to cross. Each time Arak would peer around and make sure that no one was about. Twice he bade them retreat and wait as wagons rumbled past on the main road past the Citadel.
She knew where they were going. There was no doubt in her mind. Back to Voitan and Serriss and whatever other hate might be waiting for her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1
Avassia awoke. She had been dreaming about the sea, as she often had these past months.
A frown touched her face as she rubbed at her eyes. Something felt wrong, though she was not sure what. The vague memory of an earlier dream tugged at her - of noise and someone shouting for help, and a strange and bitter taste in her mouth, and the maid crouching by her bed, telling her not to take any notice. In the dream the maid had been clutching a knife. Somehow, when she had tried to use it, Avassia had grabbed it from her.
Only a dream, she told herself. But she could not quite dismiss it.
She got up quickly, splashing water on her face and dressing swiftly in her leathers and boots. Through the house she went then, to the wing where Kaledria and Hexiya slept.
'What . . .'
The whole place was a wreckage of broken glass and overturned furniture. The bedroom door hung from its frame. Three broken wooden masks that she did not recognise lay scattered upon the floor. But her attention was all for Kaledria.
She ran to her where she lay. A pool of blood had congealed around her head.
'Kaledria,' she murmured. 'Kaledria.' Tears started in her eyes but she furiously blinked them away. Time enough to cry later.
She checked the girl's pulse and was heartened that it was strong and that her breathing was steady. Very carefully, she felt around her head. There was no obvious fracture, although she could not be sure. The skin at the back of her skull had torn badly. That was where the blood had come from, though the bleeding had mostly stopped now. She hoped the injury was not as serious as she had dreaded.
She grabbed a low pillow and gently laid Kaledria's head back down.
Where is Hexiya? she wondered then. ' Hexiya! ' She called several times but there was no reply. A quick search of the rooms, bathroom, corridors and garden showed no sign of her.
She returned to her adopted daughter. On many occasions she had had practice treating injuries - setting broken limbs or stitching up wounds. But she was not a doctor and she was not about to take chances.
She knew where a surgeon lived, not far away.
She ran through the house. Just as she was about to leave through the front door, she stopped and turned. Going to the weapons cupboard, she grabbed what she thought she might need.
Then, at a run, she left her home and descended the hill towards the surgeon's place.
2
They carried Hexiya over the wall and into the back garden. Through overgrown grass, bare, cracked earth and thorny bushes they took her, to the back door.
It opened for them. Serriss was there, a false smile upon her fat red face. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead and she was wiping her hands upon her apron. Apparently she had been washing dishes.
'Where have you been?' she said to Hexiya as she was carried inside. 'I've never known a child as lazy as you. We really could have used some help around the house.' She seemed quite oblivious to the masks that gyrated and pranced by her, propelled by their spindly bodies and limbs. Nor did she blink as Arak walked past.
They set Hexiya down on the sofa in the living room. There was a stench in the room far more vile than the sweat, cheap perfume and ill-cured hides of Serriss, or the pitch, sawdust, metal and liquor of Voitan. Mingled with their normal fetor and the dust and the wood-smell of the masks, was an underlying putrescence that seemed to dab intangible hands against her, stroking and touching her with its loathsome foulness.
The masks released her. As she sagged, they leapt back to their customary places on the high shelves that ringed the room just below the ceiling. Immediately they seemed to revert to being just ordinary tribal masks - hideous, fearsome, but inanimate.
Voitan, bulky and heavy, was standing on the other side of the room. His back was towards her. His ill-fitting jacket looked dusty and worn. In his slab-like hands he was coiling and uncoiling a leather belt. He seemed to be considering it, weighing it, wondering what he might be able to do with it.
He turned, his big boots shuffling on the carpet.
Ice slid into her belly. Her heart thudded in her chest. Voitan had changed. His face was slack on one side. His lips were strange, swollen and twisted. One of his eyes was misted over and stared down and to one side.
'You should have told us you were going to be late home,' he said in his dull, hard voice. 'We were worried about you. We've told you before not to stay out.'
3
Avassia reached the surgeon's house - a narrow building of red brick. She grasped the chain of the bell by the door and swung the hammer back and forth, making a din that must have woken the neighbours.
'Doctor Eckvian!' she shouted. ' Doctor Eckvian! '
Painful seconds passed. A second-floor window opened and a middle-aged man's head came into view - a big, square head with grey hair tousled from sleep. His granite features were set in a scowl. They softened when he recognised her.
'Avassia! I'll be right down.'
Half a minute later the bolts were thrown and he swung the door wide. A large man with military features, his eyes were strangely gentle in his strong face.
'I'm sorry for waking you,' said Avassia in a rush. 'My daughter's been attacked. She has a head-injury and she's unconscious. There was a lot of blood -'
Eckvian held up his hand. 'Let me fetch my things. I'll be right out.'
'Wait,' said Avassia. She held out her keys. 'Can you go by yourself? You'll find her in the west wing.' Her voice cracked suddenly - she wanted nothing more than to go with him, to return to Kaledria. But she said: 'I have to go. Her friend's gone missing. Taken away by whoever attacked her I think. I have to find her before they get far.'
Eckvian gave her a long look, taking it in, then nodded. 'Very well.'
'I'll be there as soon as I can,' said Avassia. 'Please . . .' She was about to say more, but finished with: 'I know you'll do your best.' There were tears in her eyes as she turned away.
Then she was running through the streets, heading for the one place she could think of to which Hexiya might have been taken - her former guardians' house. She had seen how scared the girl had been when talking about them. She had wondered at the fact that the town guard had turned up to take her back rather than the guardians themselves. Then too, other details from the past few days were beginning to edge into her awareness - half-forgotten things that Kaledria and Hexiya had said, the fear and disquiet that had seemed to lurk within her formerly peaceful home, the sense of mystery that always surrounded the quiet, likeable girl that her adopted daughter had befriended. She berated herself as she ran, telling herself that she should have paid more attention to them and that she should have realised that something was seriously wrong.
Too late for that now, though. Finding Hexiya was what mattered, almost as urgent in her awareness as the recovery of Kaledria. For Kaledria she could only hope and wait. For Hexiya she might at least take some action.
To her guardians' place then, if she could find it. Hexiya had mentioned that it was on the slope towards the Citadel. Kaledria had told her that they had climbed a giant redfruit tree in the garden. The latter - a rare and distinctive species - would, she hoped, be easy to find. If not, she would just have to return to her house and follow whatever tracks might have been left - slow, laborious and difficult in a town, but she knew some techniques that might make it possible.
As she turned up Grain Street and the Citadel hove into view, a disturbing thought crossed her mind: how strange it was that so many memories and questions were suddenly emerging as from a haze of mist and forgetfulness that seemed to have muffled her faculties of reason. It was as if, when she had seen Kaledria lying hurt and unconscious, an obscuring veil had fallen away from her mind. How was it possible that she could have forgotten so much of what the girls had told her?
4
Voitan plodded heavily across the room and looked down at Hexiya. Arak stood to one side. Serriss was leaning against the doorway, peering in.
'What are you going to do to me?' Hexiya asked, keeping her voice very soft but unable to stop it from trembling. A stupid question perhaps, but in her desperation she only wanted to put her punishment off, inevitable though it might be.
'I have to discipline you,' said Voitan. He was close enough that she could smell smoke on his breath, exhaled between his yellow teeth.
'We will take turns,' said Arak.
'And then we will kill you,' said Serriss. There was a curl to her lip as if she was an animal bearing her fangs. In her eyes was nothing but pure, black hate.
'Why?' breathed Hexiya. 'Why?' But the question did not seem to mean anything to them. Though her death might be their purpose, they did not question it.
'And after we are done with you I'll have time enough for Kaledria,' said Arak. 'I'll make her despise your memory. Then I'll whisper your name and tell her what I did to you. And she will give herself to me in thanks.'
'She would never -'
'I will make her.'
'Enough talking,' said Serriss. The fat woman stalked into the room. Then all three of them grabbed her.
Hexiya screamed. She struggled, twisted, kicked, writhed. Panic surged in her, giving her strength. But it was not enough. Not against Voitan. He was huge and unyielding and his thick fingers were like vices. He seemed quite impervious to her thrashing legs and clawing hands.
Lifting her as if she was no more than a doll, he carried her across the room. Serriss opened the lid of a heavy wooden chest and he pushed her down into it. It was barely large enough for her. Her knees were pushed up to her chin as the big man thrust down upon her shoulders.
Then the lid was shut with a dull thud and a heavy bolt slammed home.
She could not move in such a small space. In her curled-up position she could barely even breathe. An animal howl rose in her throat. Claustrophobia and terror surged within her.
'Please,' she called. 'Please, don't leave me in here. Please.'
Then there was a loud crunch of stone and a tremor shook the floor - a heavy vibration that went through the base of the chest. A second later there was another such noise, and another.
'Early,' she heard Arak say, his voice muffled through the walls of the chest. 'He's early.' There was disappointment in his tone. Then he, Voitan and Serriss fell silent, waiting while the stone man came.
The ground shook again, then again. The impossibly heavy steps continued along the hallway of the house. They paused at the entrance of the living room, then came inside.
The chest jumped slightly as one of the footsteps stopped right beside it. Then something touched the lid.
The side of the chest shattered. The heavy wood, under colossal stress from the mass of the hand that had rested upon it, collapsed.
Hexiya looked up into the stone man's wide, hideous face - a nightmare vision from which she tried to recoil. It hung before her, less than a foot from her head, swaying backwards and forwards slightly as if the body behind it was struggling to stay upright. Dull, pocked eyes like irregular grey marbles moved slowly within ragged sockets. Teeth of rough rock were visible in the lipless mouth. There was no tongue, but a cave full of stalagmites, stalactites and pillars.
Absurdly, the being still wore its working clothes, its long cloak and its drooping, wide-brimmed hat.
' What do you want with me?! ' she screamed.
The mouth curled into a horrible approximation of a smile. 'Your death.' The voice was deep and powerful and made the whole room vibrate.
It reached for her.
5
Avassia ran up to the wall that bounded Hexiya's guardians' place. The front gate was open. Deep, jagged holes led down the side of the house. More led to the front door.
Then she heard Hexiya scream words she could not quite catch.
Sprinting forwards, she leapt up steps that had been split and smashed as if by a huge hammer. She did not pause by the open entranceway but ducked within. The floor of the hallway beyond was cratered and buckled.
She raised her crossbow to her shoulder and stalked forward. On her left she saw someone standing on the other side of an open doorway - a huge man, tall and very broad, in a black cloak and a battered hat. His back was turned towards her. His feet, she noticed, were imbedded six inches or more in the ground.
He was reaching for Hexiya. She was cowering in the remains of a shattered chest of some sort and her squirming was making it difficult for him to grasp her.
' Hey! '
The man turned his head, his movement very slow.
A single gasp escaped her when the side of his face came into view. But she did not pause. Less than two yards from him, she pulled the trigger of her crossbow.
The bolt slammed into his left eye. Though the shaft shattered, the stony sphere imploded with a crackling noise in its socket.
The stone man's hand rose ponderously. His head turned further and his remaining eye rolled and settled upon her. Then he took a slow, difficult step towards her.
She backed away, loading another crossbow bolt. Through the fear that beat at her she hoped that this monstrosity, whatever it was, would be too sluggish to touch her.
She waited, drawing it towards her. Then, as it reached out with a slab-like hand, she ducked past and into the room where Hexiya was.
She took in the scene at a glance. There was a repulsive-looking fat woman and a big man in a shabby jacket. Both of them were curiously still, as if confused. There was also a youth standing by one wall, rather older than Kaledria and Hexiya. Sickness was in his face and a feverish heat burned behind his eyes.
As Avassia took a step towards Hexiya, the man - Voitan, she guessed - came abruptly to life, lurching towards her.
She released the crossbow bolt point-blank into his chest, right into his heart. With a groan he staggered backwards. For a moment he managed to hold himself upright, and she thought that he might somehow, impossibly, have a constitution that could resist the injury. Then he collapsed to his knees. His head fell loose upon his thick neck and his broad mouth opened and went slack. His eyes, however, searched out Hexiya so that he might fix his dying gaze upon her.
Behind Avassia, with a noise of shattering masonry that ripped through the building, the monstrous stone man turned to come back into the room.
As he did so, the fat woman walked towards her with her podgy hands fluttering ridiculously in front of her chest.
The sea-captain slammed the butt of the crossbow into the bridge of her nose, smashing the bone backwards into her skull. The red-faced, corpulent form gave a little cry and toppled over, its eyes sliding sideways and going blank.
Then she moved swiftly across to Hexiya, who was on her feet and had her back pressed into the corner of the room. As she took her hand, the stone man lurched towards them.
At the same time, the sick youth leapt at them. But Avassia had seen him coming. Without even looking, she swung her crossbow back at him with all her strength. It struck him on the shoulder where she had seen he had some kind of injury.
Thrown into a wall, he howled and cried out, his face contorted in agony.
Avassia and Hexiya faced the stone man.
'Each side,' said the sea-captain to the girl.
Hexiya nodded.
The massive figure took a staggering step towards them, arms reaching wide in the hope of grappling with them. Too swiftly for him they darted past, one to his left and the other to his right. Through the doorway they went and out into the hall. Then they were running through the front entrance, across the front of the garden and out into the street.
They stopped and looked back. A dark shape within the dim hallway, the stone man was making his ponderous way after them. But even as he reeled down the passage his coordination somehow failed him. His limbs seemed to be losing their strength and his arms hung loose at his sides. Suddenly his head slumped forwards. Then, as they watched, the substance from which he was made began to fragment. As it came apart it fell inwards towards a point at the centre of his torso. After a few seconds the whole of him had collapsed and vanished. There was no sign of him at all. Only the craters where he had stood remained to prove that he had ever been there.
'What was that?' Avassia breathed.
'Something that wanted me,' said Hexiya.
There was a sudden cry from the living room. Then the sea-captain saw the youth stumble out to where the stone man had been. Weakly, he shouted and cursed. There was anguish in his voice as if he had suffered a terrible loss.
'Let's go,' said Avassia. Worry like a sickness tightened within her chest. 'Kaledria has been hurt. We have to get back to her.'
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1
They returned home to find Kaledria in bed, lying upon her front. Part of the back of her head had been shaved and a line of stitches crawled across the bald patch.
The grizzled surgeon, Eckvian, looked up as Avassia and Hexiya entered. The sea-captain's expression must have been fierce for he said, rather hurriedly: 'I think she'll be all right. There's no sign of a fracture to her head. When she woke up she said she had a terrible headache and felt dizzy. She vomited a few times too, though thankfully that's subsided now. She's concussed and it's difficult to predict, but I hope she'll make a complete recovery. It's important she doesn't sleep again for a while though.'
'She's awake?' said Avassia.
Even as she said it, Hexiya saw Kaledria turn her head slightly and blink, her eyes searching towards them. She ran across to her and knelt down, taking her hand.
'How are you feeling?'
'That's a really stupid question.' Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
'I know. But I think that's what one is supposed to say in situations like this.'
Kaledria nodded a fraction and winced. 'You're all right,' she said, very softly. There was relief in her voice.
'Yes, I am. Thanks to Avassia.'
The sea-captain knelt down beside them both. 'Kaledria . . .' Her voice cracked. It took a few moments for her to regain her composure. 'I'm so glad you're all right. I should have listened more carefully to you two. I should have paid more attention.'
'It's all right,' said Hexiya. When she said this, Avassia looked at her askance. 'Something about all that has happened . . . It hides itself. It makes people forget it and ignore it. It wasn't your fault that you forgot.'
The sea-captain became suddenly very grim. 'But I remember now,' she said, her voice very low. 'I remember.'
Hexiya became aware of Eckvian standing over her. He was squinting down at her and looked concerned. 'I think I'd better take a look at that cut in your side,' he said. 'It's bleeding. I'll put some salve on the cuts on your face too.'
2
Later Hexiya bathed - a sponge bath only, to her regret, to prevent her new bandage from getting wet. After putting on clean clothes she joined Avassia in the conservatory next to Kaledria's bedroom. It was empty but for a few large earthenware pots and an old stone bench. Red, mauve and white sunlight shone through the high, arched windows.
Avassia, reaching to a tray she had set down beside her, poured tea for them both. 'That stone giant . . . That thing ,' she said. 'Do you have any idea what it was?'
Hexiya shook her head. 'But we saw it dissolve,' she said. 'And maybe that explains something.'
Avassia narrowed her eyes. 'What do you mean?'
'I told you that I saw it before at my guardians' place. Talking with Voitan through the living room window. Looking for me, I think. Days later I was still free and alive. Why? Why did it take so long to find me and capture me?'
Avassia nodded in understanding. 'It has trouble maintaining its physical form. It can only manifest itself for short periods of time. And that's why it employed Arak and Voitan and Serriss . . . and the masks. Servants that could do what it couldn't.' She looked down for a long moment, then gazed into Hexiya's eyes. 'But what does it want?' she asked. 'And why does it want you?' There was real fear in her voice. Fear that was twice as disturbing for the fact that it was revealed in such a strong and capable woman.
Hexiya shrugged. 'I don't know,' she said. 'There's nothing significant about me at all. Nothing exceptional, except that I can paint well and I have strange dreams.'
Avassia took this in, then said: 'What of all the strange things you saw? The children that were killed. Their bodies . . . how they turned into animal corpses. And the way everyone forgot the dead.'
'I'm not sure. But it's like there's a horrible influence over the town. Perhaps because of the stone man. Terrible things happen. And then, somehow, the thing that causes them manages to hide them or disguise them - and hide itself. Maybe. I don't know.' She frowned. 'But that doesn't explain the lights we saw in the sky.'
They sat for a while, bathed by the hot sunlight, silent with their own thoughts. At length Avassia said: 'I think we should follow Arak.'
Hexiya looked up.
'We may not understand what's going on,' continued the sea-captain, 'but neither do I like the idea of doing nothing but waiting for the next disaster. And Arak seems to know the man of stone.' She grimaced. 'Although, if he doesn't get treatment for that wound of his, he's going to be dead before long.'
3
Avassia went to her study and wrote two brief, urgent letters. Just as she was finishing there was a timid knock on her door.
'Come in.'
The dark-haired maid entered and nodded her head, almost a bow.
'Hello Sarala,' said Avassia. 'I was just about to come looking for you. What can I do for you?'
'Oh. Nothing really. I just thought I'd ask if you wanted me for anything.' The young woman looked frightened and uncertain.
'Well, I would like you to deliver these letters. The addresses are on the envelopes. Sarala, are you all right?'
The serving-girl looked downcast. 'I'm all right,' she said. 'I'm sorry, I just . . . I've had some terrible dreams recently. This morning I dreamed that I tried to . . . to hurt you. Perhaps it seems stupid of me, but I just wanted to come and see you. I'm sorry.'
Avassia sat back and ran her fingers through her long hair. She felt as if the whole world was shifting and changing around her in impossible ways. But rather than explaining to Sarala that she had had the same dream and that perhaps it had not, after all, been a dream at all, she said merely: 'It's all right. I have bad dreams too sometimes.'
A small smile touched the young woman's mouth then - a mixture of relief and gratitude.
'Here,' said Avassia, holding out the letters. 'Deliver these as quickly as you can.'
4
Two hours later the bell at the front gate rang. Avassia let in a pair of tough-looking men who had been weathered by time spent sailing the oceans. One was in his late thirties, dark-skinned and black-haired. The other was a few years older, with pale hair and a fair complexion. Both had full beards. Gruff, good-natured, dependable types, they had crewed for her for several years.
They followed her into the kitchen and she sat them at the table and poured them tea.
'A shame you retired,' said the black-haired man, grinning. His name was Ravadin. 'We've put together enough money for a ship of our own. But it won't be the same without you.'
'Oh, you'll do fine,' said Avassia with a warm smile. 'Maybe better . . .'
'What of the Eel ?' asked the older man, whose name was Ballak. 'Was she repairable?' The Eel was Avassia's ship. It had been badly damaged in a storm and holed when it had been driven ashore. Captain and crew had been lucky to escape with their lives. Avassia, already thinking of bringing to an end her time at sea, had made up her mind and retired.
'Repairable, yes, though not at all cheaply.'
Ravadin regarded her for a long moment, suddenly serious. 'What can we do for you, Captain?'
'Well, the truth is, I want you as guards for a few days, here in my house. I want you to watch over my daughter and her friend. I also want you to help us follow someone - a youth that could have killed Kaledria. I know I've no right to ask this of you, but I will pay you - or, if you prefer, give you the Eel in return for your help. I know it may seem like a strange request, but I don't know who else to trust.'
They exchanged glances, then looked back at her. 'We'll be happy to help,' said Ballak.
5
They turned in early. Hexiya talked with Kaledria for a while, then settled down to sleep. Avassia, Ravadin and Ballak made up beds in other rooms of the same wing so that they would be close. These three took it in turns to keep watch, and twice, deep in the night, Hexiya awoke to see Ballak and then Avassia pacing outside - solitary armed figures, dimly lit by the yellow and red moons. Each time she drifted asleep again, reassured that they were there.
The night passed quietly enough.
**