[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the nearest house. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. Finally he
opened the door. The remains of a gutted child fell across the threshold. Josh
spun around, dropping from the doorstep to his knees in the snow, vomiting.
When his stomach was empty and he began to recover a little, he knocked on
every door, receiving no answers, but this time he did not go in, he knew what
he would find: Of all the small trading village only Branch and Bluewings
survived.
* * * *
Before Skree re-entered his life, Josh would have gone straight to Aejys with
his news. Now he went to Skree. He found his godfather sitting in the parlor
of their small suite. Skree started to greet him in a friendly manner, caught
the haunted look in Josh's face, and asked simply, "What has happened?"
Tears started in Josh's eyes and ran freely down his face as he shook.
Skree rose and settled Josh into a chair at the little table. "Take a deep
breath and let it out slowly, then speak."
Josh nodded and after a few breaths was able to begin. The triton listened to
his story in troubled silence. When Josh had finished, Skree rose and fetched
his cloak.
"Do not speak to Aejys about this until I have investigated. I must assess
what we are confronted by. I will bring Bluewings and Branch here for their
safety."
* * * *
Skree entered the Kwaklahmyn compound at mid-day. He smelled the dark
residue, which Josh had described to him and recognized it. "Sa'necari," he
hissed.
The triton went to Branch's house first, pushed the door open cautiously, and
went in. He saw Branch, crossed the room, and dropped to his knees by the old
Shaman. "Old mon," he said, "Your grandson, Ash, is safe. I made certain of it
before I left the tavern. He fell asleep in the winter quarters sitting room
listening to stories."
Branch sighed heavily and nodded. "I do not know how it passed my wards," he
said dully, his eyes glazed with shock.
"The sa'necari has slain your village."
"They are all dead?"
"Josiah found no survivors. Do you know who this sa'necari is?"
"Dinger. It was Dinger."
"Did you know that he was sa'necari?"
Branch shook his head. "Before last night? No."
"I will gather your dead into a single house and then fire it lest they
rise."
Page 117
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Branch nodded. Skree took his wrist and Read him, finding that he was in
state verging on deep psychic shock, his magic spent. Then he went upstairs
and Read Bluewings. She stirred at his touch, opening her eyes, "Skree?"
"Josiah sent me. Your village is slain. When I am done here, you and your
grandfather must come away with me. I will take you to a place of safety."
"Thank you," she whispered weakly.
Skree left then, going from house to house, finding as Josh suspected no
survivors. From the tiniest infant to the oldest crone, they were all dead. He
took Branch's grandsons and placed them in the house last. Then he emptied the
barrels of whale oil over everything and set it burning. Darkness had come by
the time he finished. He wrapped Bluewings and Branch in blankets, lifted them
both to his shoulders, and started back. He would settle them among the guards
and drivers in the converted warehouse. Then he intended to speak with Aejys
about what had transpired.
* * * *
The old house rose up two stories in a graveyard of ruined houses, a section
hit once too often by raiders. There might still be people in some of them,
derelicts and others who had fallen through the cracks of life, illicit
tenants of desperation. Omer always figured he would end up like them when he
got old his father had. Fear of it used to come calling in the utter
stillness of the wee hours before dawn, binding his stomach in nauseous twists
of panic, suggesting he put a knife to his wrists before he lived too long.
Since Aejys found him, those nights had become rarer, but he still had them.
The house was supposed to be abandoned. It looked that way to Omer. The
shutters on the windows were all broken and the front door hung half off its
hinges. Wind blown snow was piled deep against the sides. Janine had gone out,
pulling in some favors to get him the address while he waited in her chambers.
She made him promise not to go in alone. He knew he should have kept it, gone
back for at least his buddy Raim, but he had a gut feeling that time was
something he did not have. Janine told him that sometimes the bolder of the
street children, mostly orphans, went in, and never came out. Dinger did not
live in the house, he lived under it. Or so Janine told him.
Omer went up the front steps, kicking the snow away as he went. He slipped
cautiously through the door, which squeaked loudly despite his best efforts.
Floorboards creaked and felt ready to give beneath his feet in several places.
There was no possibility of walking quietly. He paused, letting his eyes get
accustomed to the dark. A loud chorus of chittering began above his head. He
looked up to see what seemed like hundreds of gleaming red eyes through holes
in the disintegrating ceiling.
A cold chill ran up his arms. Bats. It's just bats.
He moved on, past rats nesting in the ruins of an old couch, into the
kitchen. At the end of the kitchen he found a stair leading up, but he was
looking for something leading down. He walked past them into a hallway. One
door to the left opened on a large pantry. An odor of rotting flesh seemed to
rise from beneath the floorboards. It had to be fresh to smell so strongly in
the cold weather. Omer gagged, pulling the edge of his great cloak around his
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]