The Path of Sorrow Page 7

  “No,” Fulk replied stubbornly, “once again, no. My knights are too few and I will not use sorcery any more than is necessary. Felipe must complete his mission and bring the boy to us.”

  The image in the mirror was badly faded by now, little more than a jumble of indistinct shapes. Suddenly it was lit up by a vivid splash of red. The faint echo of a scream reverberated around Fulk’s bedchamber.

  “It seems Felipe is fully occupied at present,” said Edith, her lips twisting into a cruel smile as she peered hard at the mirror, trying to make out what was going on.

  Disgusted but enthralled, Fulk gazed up at her helplessly.

  * * * *

  Among the many things Bail had tried to avoid in his life, the company of a child was near the top of the list. Apart from their inane conversation and disgusting personal habits, children didn't usually carry any money, so they were both annoying and of no practical use to him.

  However, he had to admit that Sorrow had not been too much of a trial. For one thing, the boy was somehow able to discourage the spirits of the Burned Earth that had previously haunted Bail's steps. He tended not to speak unless spoken to, and even then in calm, thoughtful tones, not like a child at all.

  If he was learning to like Sorrow, Bail also had to learn to trust him as well. After a week of walking the comforts of central Temeria seemed no closer, and Bail was finding the journey increasingly hard going. His knee ached abominably from the fight with Asu, though the wounds on his face were healing, and the muscles in his legs and lower back were screaming with stress from trudging through soft ground.

  The terrain didn't seem to affect Sorrow, who trotted over the endless miles as nimbly as one of the sinister jackal-like creatures that dwelled in the waste. Bail had a nasty feeling that a pack of the creatures was following them, waiting for him to collapse, and said as much.

  "Do not fear," the boy assured him, "the Corpse-Eaters are just that, and have no taste or nose for living flesh."

  "But how do they survive?" demanded Bail. "There are no corpses out here, just dust and ashes."

  Sorrow's cheeks dimpled as he smiled his unnerving little smile. "Where do you think the ashes come from, blue-eyes? You should know from your history that thousands of men died here. In truth, millions died rather than thousands, and their bodies were left to rot in this earth. Much of the desert you are walking through is made up of their decayed remains."

  Bail exclaimed in disgust, and hurriedly tied a strip of cloth around his mouth: he had been inhaling bits of flying dust for days. Had he been a more sensitive man, the thought of ingesting all those dead people might have made him throw up.

  "Don't call me blue-eyes," he snarled through a mouthful of cloth, "my last master used to call me that, and I was obliged to stab him in the heart. How do you know so much history, anyway? You can't be more than six or seven years old."

  Sorrow shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I had good teachers. My tribe placed great value on learning. We were a great people, once."

  There was a catch in his voice, and he rushed away so Bail could not see his face.

  "Where are you going?" Bail called after him. "You're heading north! Come back, damn you. Our path lies to the west."

  Sorrow turned, his small form silhouetted against the strange mauve light, and spread his arms wide. "We will never reach the central provinces," he cried, "they are far from here, too far for a man on foot to travel, especially a man in such shocking condition as you. If you wish to see people, we must head north-west. There is a town not twenty miles away in that direction, though I doubt you know of it."

  Bail frowned, and tried to recall his geography. "North leads to more deserts," he said, "miles of deserts, and then mountains until the sea. There are reputed to be scattered settlements up that way, but I have never seen or heard anything to confirm it."

  Sorrow bowed mockingly. "You have now. Forget what you think you know, blue-eyes, and follow me."

  Ignoring the foul language that spilled from Bail's mouth, the boy turned and galloped away, laughing as he sped over the turgid dunes.

  Bail hobbled gamely in pursuit. Ghostly clouds of dust whipped about him as he half-ran, half-stumbled over the dreadful terrain.

  He felt reluctant to let Sorrow out of his sight, though his reasons were nothing to do with concern for the boy’s safety. As ever, Bail’s mind was busy calculating his own profit.

  When it seemed that he had been running for roughly a hundred miles, but was more like two and a half, Sorrow finally stopped. Pathetically grateful for the respite, Bail bent double, his head spinning and his limbs shaking as he tried not to vomit.

  “There!” Sorrow called out, pointing north. “Closer than I thought!”

  Wiping away the stinging sweat from his eyes with a dust-streaked hand, Bail squinted to make out what Sorrow pointed at. He could see nothing but the endless desolation of the Burned Earth.

  “What is?” he croaked. He reached for the water skin strapped around his waist, uncorked it and sucked down a few precious drops of moisture. Despite his frugality, the skin was fast emptying, and barely half a pint of lukewarm water remained.

  “A settlement, of sorts,” said Sorrow, “though the people who live there are not settled at all, but shift about as the mood takes them.”

  Bail straightened up and wiped more sweat from his face. He was sopping wet and breathing like a bellows, giving the lie to his notion that he was reasonably fit. “I have studied most of the peoples on this continent, and don’t recall reading anything about nomadic tribes in the Burned Earth. Presumably they don’t live off corpses as well?”

  Sorrow giggled. It was a reedy high-pitched sound, and jarring to Bail’s ears. Amid the awfulness of their surroundings, laughter seemed inappropriate.

  “Silly, ignorant foreigner!” he crowed. “Your old maps and histories did not tell you very much. The Burned Earth runs out a few miles to the north of here, and another land begins. Not a very pleasant land, perhaps, but softer than this one. The settlement is known as Moon-Path, for the people only travel by the light of the moon. A strange custom, but they are a strange people. Shall we pay them a visit? I think we had better, for your sake.”

  Bail swallowed the boy’s condescending tone and forced himself to smile. “Of course, if you think it best.”

  “Come, then.” Sorrow grinned. “I shall run a bit slower, to save your old legs.”

  He trotted away. Bail limped in pursuit, grinding his teeth in suppressed rage.

  * * * *

  The two bulky, shaven-headed orderlies, dressed in plain black uniforms, wheeled Colken's frame creaking and rattling down dark corridors until finally they entered a room brightly lit by a skylight in the centre of the ceiling. They wordlessly pushed Colken onto a great iron grid set in the floor, beneath which he could hear the slurp and suck of a tidal current.

  The orderlies stepped either side of him and each applied a foot-brake which clamped Colken's frame to the grid. Then they stood back to look at him.

  They were both enormous; towering men, immaculately clean, with calm, almost kind faces. He could see, now that they were bathed in sunlight, that they had strange feather-like patterns scored into their scalps. Not tattooed, but apparently neatly scarred, like patterns carved into wood. Their faces were smooth, pale and unblemished.

  The first orderly put one neatly manicured slab of a hand on his chest and gave Colken a friendly smile.

  “I am Nurse Lofty and this is my colleague, Eggs.” Nurse Lofty let out a long, self-satisfied breath that hissed through his nose as he smoothed down his perfectly fitted uniform.

  Colken looked at Eggs and then back at Nurse Lofty. “Eggs?”

  “At your service.” Eggs brushed some non-existent dust from his shoulder with an equally content expression on his well-groomed face.

  “My colleague and I,” continued Nurse Lofty, “will get you cleaned up and fed.”

  “How does a spot of baked fish grab y
ou?” interjected Eggs.

  “Eggs is quite the cook, and you must be famished. We've got you some fresh apparel,” Nurse Lofty glanced down at Colken's filthy, shredded loincloth with a grimace, “and a good pack made up for your journey.”

  “Wouldn't want to send you on such a trip unprepared, would we?” Eggs smiled at Nurse Lofty, who smiled back.

  “No indeed, the Raven Queen wants you fully equipped.”

  “Yes, and…” Eggs paused and gave Nurse Lofty a disapproving expression. Nurse Lofty reciprocated.

  “We have procured some appropriate, ahem, weapons to help you with any, uh, situations that may arise. We think they will be to your liking.”

  “Let's get started,” said Eggs, who produced a tiny pair of scissors from his breast pocket, cut away Colken's loincloth, then started on the bandage on his chest. As he did so Nurse Lofty fetched a pail of water from the corner of the room, where several more were prepared.

  Eggs peeled away the top few layers of bloody bandage and stepped back, smiling at Nurse Lofty, who nodded politely and threw the water straight at Colken's chest. Colken gasped as the ice-cold water soaked him.

  “Salt water,” smiled Eggs.

  “Aids the healing process,” said Lofty as Eggs carefully peeled away the rest of the bandages.

  Colken thought that nothing could shock him after his meeting with the Raven Queen, but when he looked down, he wondered if he was still unconscious and this was all a terrible dream. The left hand side of his chest was now a sheet of steel that wrapped around his left-hand side. The line where the steel ended and the skin began, apart from the dried blood, was seamless. It was as if magic held him together. In the centre of the steel was the black silhouette of a raven in flight. He stared down at himself, amazed and disgusted.

  As another pail of ice-cold seawater was thrown over him, Colken looked up to see that Eggs had armed himself with a stiff brush. They set about soaking and scouring Colken's entire body.

  Finally, after several buckets of water and a painful scrubbing, Colken felt much more alert; he felt like the deck of a ship brutally scrubbed clean. The two orderlies stepped forward and released the brakes on the frame holding him.

  “Much better!” said Nurse Lofty, standing back to admire their work.

  “A new man!” agreed Eggs, glancing up a Colken's thick black dreadlocks. “Shame we can't do much about the hair.”

  “Time is not on our side in that respect, Eggs,” replied Nurse Lofty, shaking his head and looking thoroughly disappointed.

  “Perhaps next time.”

  Eggs and Nurse Lofty wheeled Colken's frame back out through the door and down yet another corridor.

  Finally they arrived in another cell, albeit a slightly more comfortable looking one, with a bed, a table and chair, and a barred window looking out onto the open sea. Fresh clothes were laid out neatly on the bed. Eggs smiled at his colleague and left the room.

  “Now, I hope we can trust you enough to remove your bonds, Master Colken.” Nurse Lofty smiled amiably. “It really will make it much easier if we can be civilised.”

  Colken had the uncomfortable and unusual feeling violence was not an option, at least not towards anyone in the employ of the Raven Queen. And besides, after the day he had endured he was in no mood for a fight. His arms and back ached and he was famished. He had never liked fighting on an empty stomach and, in the face of Nurse Lofty and Eggs' disarming politeness, found it hard to muster up the motivation to kill anybody. He nodded his compliance.

  Nurse Lofty beamed at him. “I am relieved we can be professional! Eggs is preparing your meal as we speak.” Nurse Lofty disappeared behind Colken and began unfastening the bonds that held him to the frame. “In the meantime, perhaps you might like to get dressed.”

  As the bonds slackened, Colken lurched forward with a grunt and landed on all fours.

  “Steady now,” said Nurse Lofty, “you've been through quite an ordeal. Your strength will return once you've eaten.”

  Colken reached up and grabbed the end of the bed, pulling himself upright and stretching his arms above his head until he heard a satisfying crunch from his back. He stood there looking at Nurse Lofty, rubbing his sore wrists. Nurse Lofty gestured towards the clothes.

  Colken looked down at his new garb. It was similar to the orderlies' uniforms, if not as formal; a shirt and a pair of breeches made of plain black, soft material with a red trim. He found as he put them on that they fitted perfectly.

  “How do you find the cut? It’s all my own work you know.” Nurse Lofty admired his own handiwork. “I'm particularly pleased with these!” He picked up a pair of soft, leather boots that Colken hadn't previously noticed, holding them out to the big Djanki. “They may appear soft, but I assure you they are very durable.”

  Colken regarded the boots suspiciously. He wasn't accustomed to footwear. Nurse Lofty looked hurt. “I made them myself. We, uh, measured you.” He gave an apologetic smile. “Try them on! Let's see how they fit.”

  Colken sighed and sat on the bed, pulling on one boot that came up to just below the knee, and tucking his black breeches into the top. As he did so Nurse Lofty continued to chatter.

  “I had to get extra materials. We weren't prepared for a man of your, uh, dimensions.”

  Colken was surprised at how comfortable it felt, the lining was soft, the leather was flexible but tough. He pulled on the other boot and stood, they were a snug fit.

  “I am Djanki,” said Colken. “Djanki go bare-foot. We like to feel the earth beneath our feet.” Nurse Lofty's face dropped, he looked as though he would cry. “But I left the Djanki behind. Now I am just Colken, and not even all of Colken.” He suddenly rapped his fist against the steel side of his chest with a loud clank, which made Nurse Lofty flinch. “I'll keep the boots.”

  “Excellent!” Nurse Lofty was visibly relieved. “You look most dashing, Master Colken.”

  “I whole-heartedly agree!” exclaimed Eggs, who appeared at the door with a trolley full of food, then winced as he realised his poor choice of words. “Uh, Nurse Lofty is a fine tailor indeed.”

  “We all have our talents, Eggs, and I do believe yours is cooking!” Nurse Lofty sucked in a long breath through his nose. “That smells positively delicious!”

  Colken had to agree with the orderly. Eggs had prepared a feast; two large baked fish, sweet potatoes, stuffed figs, a platter of shellfish, a loaf of bread, fruit, cheese, and a jug of wine. Colken had no idea how long it had been since he had eaten and needed no encouragement. He ignored the silver cutlery Eggs had laid out and began tearing into the feast with his bare hands, grunting with pleasure and relief.

  The two orderlies watched with baited breath as he shovelled food into his mouth, washing it down with mouthfuls of wine straight from the jug.

  “Indulge me, Master Colken, if you will,” said Nurse Lofty, “but we know a little of your people, the Djanki. Am I right in saying that they believe their Gods are amused only by war, and that to amuse them they must make war on all those around them?”

  Colken swallowed most of what he had in his mouth, washed it down with more wine, and looked up at the orderly.

  “Not any more,” he mumbled.

  “Oh?” The orderlies looked at each other.

  “They follow the prophet Naiyar now. He…opened their eyes.” Colken thought how long ago it seemed since Naiyar had granted him his freedom at Temple Rock—a freedom promptly stolen again by Captain Wade, and now the Raven Queen.

  “Tell me about this Naiyar. What makes him a prophet?”

  “Half demon, superhuman strength and speed, sees the future, controls the weather, talks to the dead, his woman is a Goddess.” Colken waved a dismissive hand. “The usual.”

  “You do not follow him?”

  “I did. He granted me freedom in return for a favour.”

  “We have never heard of a Djanki leaving the jungle on his own, they either emerge with an army or not at all,” said Eggs. “If you
'll pardon my curiosity, Master Colken, what made you do it?”

  “I wanted adventure. I wanted to see the world.”

  “Well, you've certainly got that!” smiled Nurse Lofty.

  Colken turned and stared at him, and Nurse Lofty’s smile quickly faded. The two orderlies exchanged worried glances and stood silent while Colken worked his way enthusiastically through the rest of his meal. Finally he sat back and let out a sigh, all that remained of the banquet Eggs had laid out was a few crumbs.

  “I trust the food was to your liking?” ventured Nurse Lofty.

  “If I am to find one small child on an entire continent, I should be on my way,” said Colken, ignoring the orderly's question.

  “But of course,” said Eggs, “step right this way, Master Colken.”

  Eggs turned towards the door and Nurse Lofty gestured for Colken to follow. Colken wondered what skills his attendants must possess besides cooking and sewing if they alone were entrusted with his care. He hadn't seen so much as a sleeping guard since he had left the Raven Queen's chamber.

  He was lead down another corridor, which seemed to be leading into the heart of the House of Unkindness, as the sunlight disappeared and the corridors were lit with torches.

  Finally Colken saw his first guard, standing outside a door, he was quite different from Eggs and Nurse Lofty; armoured, bearded, and armed with a scimitar and an array of knives. He wore a helmet with cheek plates and the same feathered-pattern as on the scalps of the orderlies. His armour was black with the same emblem as on Colken's steel chest, a black raven in flight on a circular red background.

  “Here we are,” Eggs said with a smile, “the armoury.”

  The guard produced a large ring with a jumble of rusty keys jangling on it and unlocked the heavy door, which creaked open into a vast chamber.