‘Despair at having it rubbed in their faces? Not at the fact that it was happening?’ Glynn asked, and heard incredulity in her voice.
He gave her a pitying look. ‘They know it has always been going on, baby, and it always will be going on. It’s not their fault, so why should they have to suffer for it?’
Something prompted Glynn to ask, ‘Do you like that musician with the clarinet?’
He gave her an odd look, and for a moment something dark and sly seemed to peer out of his eyes at her. ‘He’s a dreamer. I can’t sell what he peddles.’
Meaning what? Glynn wondered, suddenly angry. ‘How do you know people want what you give them? Maybe they just buy it because there’s nothing else. People don’t come to you and say we want music that reflects our anger and boredom with pain,’ she said. ‘You decide it.’
‘They wouldn’t buy if they didn’t identify,’ Harrison quipped with a ghoulish grin. ‘And why look so horrified? Your sister’s music is about despair dragged to the point of absolute indifference, and Gabe has just given it an edge. He made it angry and savage and funny. He made despair dynamic and saleable and we’re all living off the proceeds. You know they’re starting to climb the charts in the States now, and MTV are featuring them pretty regularly. The next step is for them to head up a bill for a charity bash.’
‘Charity?’ Glynn asked in disbelief. ‘What charity?’
Harrison gave her a cynical smile. ‘I’m not sure yet. Aids is all sewn up and there are too many organisations looking after starving kids for any one to be big enough. I’m looking for the next big thing …’
Glynn shuddered to consciousness at the tastelessness of Harrison’s words. And what had he meant? The next big famine? The next war or earthquake? The next terrible disease? But as she came more widely awake, she wondered why her subconscious had reviewed that particular memory? She hadn’t thought of the clarinet player since that day. And what of the dream that preceded it, of the women who had found Wind’s suicide poem?
Wind would say the two almost-strangers represented something that her subconscious was trying to tell her. But the only similarity between them was that they were both real people she barely knew, and they had both reacted to the events in the dream with a stoic courage she could not help but admire.
Then, clearly, Glynn heard Harrison Bonn’s words about the clarinet player: ‘He’s a dreamer,’ the man in the apartment had called the pregnant woman a dreamer, too.
All at once, Glynn had a vivid mental image of the clarinet player sitting by the side of a bed where an old woman lay and, with this, the terrifying events that had led up to her blacking out in the Draaka’s audience chamber flooded back into her mind.
At the same time she realised that she was lying on the floor. Someone had thrown a coarse blanket over her, and this, combined with her stiffness, suggested she had been lying unconscious for some time. She did not move now, wanting her mind to be clear before she let anyone realise she had awakened. She was also, she realised, terrified of facing the Draaka again or, more, of facing the sucking black force that had almost devoured her. The flurry of brief visions, among which had been that of the clarinet player, had saved her.
A vague memory came to her of the final vision, but even as she tried to bring it into focus, it faded completely.
Dreams, Glynn thought. They were like that sometimes. Like smoke in a breeze, disappearing as your mind tried to focus on them.
If you were not a dreamer … she heard again the accusing note in the voice of the businessman as he had spoken to the now pregnant woman who had found Wind’s suicide note.
sisterling??? The feinna plucked at her mind, anxiety and elation intermingled.
Glynn sent a burst of love and reassurance, and gathered her wits, reproaching herself for not having contacted the little animal at once.
Suddenly she heard the voice of the draakira Mingus. ‘We must invoke our master so that we can learn how we should begin our search for the Unraveller. There are few of us for such a working, but a human sacrifice could surely provide greater energy than an animal.’
Glynn’s blood ran cold at the sound of the Draaka’s laughter. ‘I know that you would be well-pleased were I to agree to a human sacrifice, my dear Mingus,’ it sounded as if the Draaka were standing right above Glynn now.
‘Except that pleasing Mingus is not our purpose in coming to Ramidan.’ This was the cool, rational voice of the Prime. ‘To sacrifice a human here and now would be madness after all the efforts we have made to convince people that the stories of draakan sacrifice are exaggerated. Besides, Kalide took especial note of the girl. We should not place any weapon into another’s hand. Not even into the hand of one who professes friendship.’
‘Kalide would not baulk at human sacrifice,’ Mingus said. ‘It might even please him.’
‘Yes, but pleasing him is not the point either, Mingus. And Wykka is correct. The knowledge that we had sacrificed a human might be used against us,’ the Draaka said. ‘Fortunately there is no need for any sort of sacrifice at this point. The Chaos spirit has already made its will known to me. While we journeyed from Fomhika to Ramidan, I was drawn from my drugged sleep into the Void. I was shown many visions. I saw such rites as may come when our master is free that will sate even your lust for blood and pain, Mingus. And I was told many things. That is why it was so difficult to waken me. Indeed, so deep was I taken that I – almost – could not return.’
There was a faint bleakness in her tone, and Glynn had a sudden vivid memory of the fear in the Draaka’s voice on Acantha, when she had spoken through Bayard to her master.
‘Did the Chaos spirit tell you where we will find the Unraveller?’ Leta demanded eagerly.
‘Such a working would require the worship of many and an immense ceremony. For that, we would need a haven ceremony.’
‘Which is impossible until Tarsin deigns to see us and we are permitted to leave this curst apartment,’ Mingus said tartly. ‘Can the Chaos spirit not influence him?’
‘The Chaos spirit acts as its wisdom directs.’ The Draaka’s voice had grown soft and infinitely dangerous. ‘It does not serve us. We must find ways to serve it. We have been given tools with which to work and we will be watched to see how we use them. The Iridomi Aluade is one such. Long before she became a secret member of the Draaka cult, the Chaos spirit brought her high in court society so that she might serve us well when the time came. She will do all that we require, from murder to self-immolation, for she is a fanatic. More importantly, she has the knowledge and will to draw together others here who follow our beliefs, when we desire to hold a summoning ceremony.’
‘And what of a channeller?’ the Prime added. ‘With Bayard dead …’
‘Silence,’ the Draaka said in a soft, chill tone. ‘I have seen the ceremony that we will hold in visions. I have seen myself consecrating one who will serve as a channeller. When that time comes to pass, we will conduct such a summoning as has never been seen in all of the made world. At the end of it, the channeller will become the leader of the Hounds of Chaos.’
Mingus drew in a swift avid breath. ‘Then the Hounds will search for the Unraveller!’
‘There will be no need for that. The Hounds will prepare for a jihad that will ready this world for the conquest of the Chaos spirit.’
‘But … how can you say there is no need for us to find the Unraveller?’
‘There will be no need for us to use the Hounds to find Darkfall’s hero,’ the Draaka elaborated. ‘The master has provided a trakkerbeast who will deliver the Unraveller to us.’
‘How could a trakkerbeast …’
‘I speak of a human trakkerbeast. The drone lying here before us will serve in this wise.’
Glynn was shattered, for it came to her that the reason she could not remember coming through Lanalor’s portal might be because she had not crossed to Keltor that way. What if the Chaos spirit had brought her to betray the Unraveller, just as the Draa
ka claimed? She clenched her teeth and vowed that, no matter what, she would never betray him.
‘Do you know who she is?’ the Prime asked. Glynn held her breath and tried not to let her eyelids flutter and reveal that she was awake, for she must learn as much as she could.
‘It can not be of any importance if the Chaos spirit did not reveal her identity to me. All that matters is that, through her, we will have the Unraveller,’ the Draaka said in a dreamy tone.
‘What does the master say to the fact that this girl was saved from drowning by Solen of Acantha?’ Mingus demanded.
‘Solen of Acantha is dead and there was no friendship or loyalty between him and the girl,’ the Prime said dismissively.
‘She was chosen by Nema for the honour of serving her at a grand hall.’
‘That was Nema’s way of demonstrating her pique with Solen, who had offended her socially,’ the Draaka said coolly. ‘Besides, Nema now supports the haven.’
‘I do not trust Nema,’ Mingus said.
‘So you have mentioned often enough to weary me. And I have told you that Jurass says that though his mother rattles and carps, she is under his control.’
‘Jurass is a fool,’ the Prime said.
‘Be careful, Wykka,’ the Draaka said softly. ‘Jurass is the tool of the Chaos spirit, as all of us are.’
‘Draaka,’ Mingus said, ‘I beg you to reconsider using this girl. I fear that she can only bring trouble. Think how she drew Bayard to take an interest in her and disobey you over the sharap’n. Then Bayard and the feinna die, but the girl survives! Does not her path seem impossibly fraught with momentous coincidences and happy mischances that are the bitter misfortunes of others? Solen suicides, Bayard dies, the feinna dies. And now? You wish her to serve our master. Which means she must remain with us. But think! That was exactly her desire. She said it before she fainted – because that idiot put too much vellum on the candles.’
‘How was I to know that she would be one of those few affected so strongly …’ Leta muttered.
‘Yes! How could anyone know! And yet, by this means she manages to avoid being questioned properly! I tell you, that girl is a myrmidon spy.’
‘She is no myrmidon,’ the Prime said. ‘Recall how the Draaka used the secret hand signals the manwomen employ to communicate when interviewing her on Acantha? The girl would have betrayed herself if she had understood them, even if she had tried to conceal it.’
‘If she has lost her memory then she might have forgotten the signals …’ Leta said.
The Draaka bade them all be silent. ‘Hear what I say for I will not say these words again. It is not I who wish the girl to serve. It is the Chaos spirit who says that it will be so. It may well be that all of these lucky chances and escapes the girl has enjoyed are the doing of the Chaos spirit, and might be seen as clear signs that he has a purpose for her. It matters not what she is or was nor if she lies when she voices her wish to remain with us. By her own actions and words, she will serve the Chaos spirit.’
There was another silence, then Gif said, ‘Through her own words and actions … does that mean she is not to be instructed?’
‘She must be taught that her will and desires are irrelevant and that she remains with us only because it is my desire and my will. But she must learn nothing of her true task. Let her be set to work upon such menial tasks as she has already been given – serving food and running minor errands within the palace confines. In the fullness of time, when our master requires it, she will serve.’
‘What if she meets the Unraveller when she is away from the apartment and alone?’ This was Mingus again.
‘She will not meet with the Unraveller within these palace walls …’
Something sharp was driven without warning into the tender instep of Glynn’s foot and she cried out.
‘I thought so,’ Gif hissed, close enough to Glynn’s ear to make her break out in gooseflesh. ‘Draaka, she is awake and has been listening to us.’ Glynn felt the point of Gif’s toe and someone grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her into a sitting position. Her senses spun and she vomited over her legs and the floor. Gif gave a windy cry of disgust and Glynn was released and fell sideways, mercifully clear of the puddle of vomit. Her arms and legs seemed to be pieces of wood barely connected to her.
‘Idiot,’ the Draaka snarled. ‘Clean her up and give her something to rouse her wits and her limbs.’
Glynn was hauled to her feet and something sharply foul was held under her nose, driving the remaining mists from her mind. Her thoughts moved fast as fingers prised her eyes open and hands roughly massaged and pummelled her limbs until they began to feel like flesh again. She looked up into the face of the Draaka who was standing right in front of her, arms folded. To Glynn’s unutterable relief, the inimical force that had radiated out of her was absent, as was the darkly radiant beauty and youthfulness.
‘I … I am sorry, Draaka,’ Glynn stammered abjectly. ‘I do not know what happened. I …’
‘You fainted from fear.’ The Draaka’s face was suspicious, but Glynn took heart from the knowledge that no matter what the woman said and threatened, she would not harm Glynn while she thought her to be the Chaos spirit’s tool.
‘I have many fears, Draaka,’ Glynn said humbly. ‘But they do not make me faint. Sometimes I get dizzy after what happened to Bayard. Maybe that is it …’
‘Name these fears you have.’
Glynn licked her dry lips. ‘I am afraid that you will have me killed because of what happened to Bayard, though it was not my fault. If you do not kill me, I fear that you will send me away because you have no use for me. I fear that I will never learn how I came to be in the great water and that I will never see my sister again …’
‘Enough. You are afraid of me, you say, and yet you do not fear to speak of fear to me?’ the Draaka countered with chilling sweetness. Glynn felt sweat trickle down her spine. Even without the help of her master’s powers, the woman was as dangerous as an adder.
‘Bayard said you know when people lie so there would be no point in pretending that I was not afraid,’ Glynn said, falling back on the dimness she had shown in her Acanthan audience with the Draaka.
‘It is true that I will know if you lie,’ the Draaka said, but Glynn’s feinna sense quivered, registering this as a lie. No doubt the Draaka saw much, especially when she took drugs that enhanced her perceptions, but she did not know the truth as a feinna would. ‘So, girl,’ she continued. ‘Before your fainted, you proclaimed that you wished to serve me?’
‘Lady, if you will allow it,’ Glynn said, letting a touch of hope creep into her demeanour.
‘Why?’ The word rasped against her like a cat’s tongue.
Glynn let her eyes drop and her fingers metaphorically crossed. ‘Before Bayard died,’ she said slowly, ‘she told me that if I served her well she would see if I might be released on Ramidan so that I could look for Ember. Finding my sister is the only way I will ever discover what happened to me.’
‘Ember … that is the name of your sister?’ The Draaka’s hand lay like a claw on the red silk of her dress, the fingers flickering with impatience. Glynn’s heart skipped a beat at the realisation that she had unwittingly spoken Ember’s name. And yet why fear it? She nodded.
‘I meant to look for her once we were on Ramidan, after the feinna had birthed. But Bayard fell into the water and drowned and the She-feinna died and I … it hurt me somehow. It made me muddled …’ Glynn touched her head. ‘Sometimes my head hurts and I have nightmares of what will happen to me if I leave your service.’
The Draaka turned away suddenly and spoke a few words to Mingus but the conversation ended before Glynn could invoke her feinna hearing. After the draakira withdrew, the Draaka turned her dark gaze back to Glynn. ‘You desire to remain with me, and yet you spoke to the Prime of wanting to seek your sister here.’
‘That was what I wanted. Is. But … Bayard told me on the ship that dreams can seem like true t
hings, betimes. Especially darklin dreams. Since coming to the palace, I have begun to fear that she may have been right, and that the dream was an illusion.’
Glynn felt the feinna’s discomfort at her words, but she had not exactly lied as she had genuinely vacillated between the belief that the vision had been true, and the certainty that it was false. The Draaka had mounted the dais as Glynn spoke and once again her face was hidden in shadow, only the glitter of her eyes visible. ‘I understand that you had some conversation with Fulig’s son, Kerd.’
Glynn could not hide her shock at the revelation that Kerd, whom she had taken for a pleasant nonentity, was the son of a chieftain! ‘I … I did not know he was so high born, Lady,’ she said at last. ‘But I swear that I did not speak to him before he spoke to me.’
‘Do you not think it odd that one of his stature would speak to you?’ There was a silky quality to her voice that set Glynn’s teeth on edge.
She opened her mouth to respond then almost bit off her tongue at the strength of the feinna’s muddled vision of movement and shifting light. Someone had entered her bedchamber!
‘Is something the matter?’ the Draaka asked.
Glynn struggled to say calmly, ‘It is only that I still feel so weak and strange from the death of Bayard and the feinna, Lady. Your words seem at times to come from so far away that I can hardly hear them, and other times they boom at me so …’
The Draaka said, ‘I spoke of the Vespian heir, Kerd. Perhaps he approached you because of your myrmidonish look.’
The feinna was now sending Glynn heart-stopping flashes of the so far fruitless search of her sleeping chamber, but she held desperately to the thread of the conversation, her every instinct crying out against revealing the feinna bond to the Draaka. ‘I told them that I was not a myrmidon, and that I served you, Lady,’ she said, praying that the search for the feinna would be useless, in which case she would pretend it must have escaped. She had no doubt that it was the feinna he sought.