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Chapter Six


As a gesture of good faith, they smashed Shafi’s chains and freed him. Fix argued in favor of leaving the thief chained until the last possible moment, but eventually, and with much grumbling, gave in.

Shafi asked for a weapon. Again they debated, and eventually agreed that he would remain unarmed.

They climbed the stairs, Indrajit once again shouldering the Wixit. Fix’s torch finally consumed the last of the flammable material he’d gathered as they were several stories’ height above the floor. Fix laid down the charred thigh bone and they proceeded in single file, hugging the wall.

After another minute or so of climbing, Indrajit realized that he could see a yellow glow coming down from above. Eventually, they climbed into the light and saw that it poured through the barred window set in the door at the top of the stairs, on a narrow landing.

Indrajit crept ahead and peered through the window. Beyond, he saw a hall. He couldn’t find the source of light, but its tenor suggested that it was daylight, filtering in through some unseen window. He pushed at the door, a moment of truth, and found it unlocked.

So Adunummu didn’t fear that the thylacodons would creep through the doorway, and trusted the chains to hold his erring apprentice in place.

They settled on the landing and the first few steps to wait for sunset. In the meantime, Shafi quietly described the tower. “This floor has a refectory and a dining hall. The floor above that is a library.”

Indrajit spat.

“Above that,” Shafi continued, “is the floor where Adunummu sleeps.”

“Where did you sleep?” Indrajit asked.

“Beside the fire in the refectory,” Shafi said. “Using an old bolster for a pillow.”

“The upper floors are accessed by stairs?” Fix asked.

“It’s the continuation of the same staircase,” Shafi said. “Rising around the outside of each floor.”

“Is his bedroom the top floor?” Indrajit pressed.

“The stairs rise above that,” Shafi said, “but that’s as high as I ever went.”

“What other servants does he have?” Indrajit asked.

“None visible.”

Fix harrumphed. “Forget about invisible servants. What you need to think about is that our best chances of survival will result if we ambush the wizard, killing him before he can do anything to us.”

“Before he can cast any spells, you mean?”

“Or hit us hard. Or use strange Druvash weapons on us.”

“But if we’re in a position to just grab the bottle around his neck,” Indrajit said, “we should do that. And then run.”

Fix was silent.

“We should grab the flask and run,” Indrajit said again.

“Maybe,” Fix conceded. “If that seems within reach.”

Night fell outside the tower. Indrajit watched the light on the other side of the door fill with the pinks and golds and oranges of a lush sunset, and then dim into blue and gray. When he could barely see the outlines of the hall any longer, he pushed open the door and led the way.

Standing in the hall, he could see that he was between the dining hall and the kitchen. He peered into the dining hall, seeking to fix the layout of the place in his mind as well as to see Adunummu Who Can Take His Liquor and Also Hits Pretty Hard before Adunummu saw him. Starlight drifted down in gentle flakes from high, glassless windows. Statues stood around the half-moon-shaped hall at regular intervals; thirty or forty, he thought, without actually counting. Every third statue was enormous, a standing figure three times the height of a man, and all the colossi bore on their shoulders a stone ledge that ran around the entire room, beneath the windows on the curving side of the chamber, and bearing pots overflowing with vines and other green tendrils. Every statue was unique—he saw two men embracing, and a woman holding a sheaf of wheat, and strange beasts. The shorter statues were set in niches sunk into the wall. The whole arrangement tugged at the back of Indrajit’s memory, but he was unsure of its meaning or where he had seen it before. A massive slab of stone table sat centered in the room, surrounded by chairs with tall backs, thick legs, and upholstered cushions for seats.

The refectory had a similar slab of a table, shelves laden with food, running water sluicing endlessly through several stone basins, and a massive fireplace. A cylindrical bolster lay squashed and dirty with ash on the stones before the fireplace. Within the refectory, stairs climbed up the wall toward the next story.

Indrajit drew his sword and the other Protagonists did the same. Shafi drew a long, triangular knife from a wooden block sitting on a table, and then Indrajit again went first up the stairs. “Brace yourself,” he couldn’t resist whispering to Munahim, “next comes the library. Be prepared to catch Fix if he faints.”

Munahim responded with a puzzled whimper in the back of his throat.

Indrajit passed two rectangular windows just before crossing up through the floor into the next story. Moisture whipped in through the openings on a stiffening breeze, and a creeping shield of gray cloud was eating up the stars.

The library was a single enormous room. Light emanated from two silvery-green spheres standing atop pillars about Indrajit’s height, one near where they entered the room and the other on the far side. Two short walls near the center sheltered a desk on which lay two open codices.

“Load-bearing walls,” Fix murmured.

“Sure,” Indrajit said.

The outward-facing sides of the load-bearing walls were plated with shelves and burdened with writing. Indrajit cringed at the sight of all the scrolls, sheaves of paper, stacks of paper, charts, codices, and books. More shelves stood free about the room, and more were bolted into the outer walls.

Fix stood and stared.

Indrajit wanted to make a joke at his partner’s expense, but he was aware that Adunummu was likely sleeping just one floor above their heads. He settled for briefly pantomiming striking fire to the nearest shelf of papers with flint and steel, and then headed up.

Shafi’s hands shook as they climbed.

The library had no windows, but the room they climbed into now did. These were set into the wall regularly—large, open rectangles through which a wind blew that was now furious and wet. Lightning struck outside, a sheet of pure white, and then the gongs of thunder burst through the open windows and across the chamber.

In the lightning’s flash, Indrajit saw a bedchamber. An open firepit sat between two walls near the center of the room, low coals burning dull red, smoke lazily wafting up into a crack in the ceiling, against one wall. Beside the firepit, a marble tub was sunk into the floor; water sloshed from a spigot at one end and the tub somehow didn’t overflow; there must be a drain sluicing the water away as fast as it came in. Shelves contained stacked linen, scent bottles, and other toiletry articles. Stairs continued up into the ceiling and darkness. A bed big enough to support two Droggers in heat stood near the room’s center.

In the bed, a heap of furs.

He wanted to ask his companions what they had seen, but didn’t dare.

He wanted to sneak forward and pat down the bed, find the flask and run with it. He didn’t relish the idea of assassinating anyone in their sleep, wizard or no.

Although this magician had been happy to tie Shafi up and leave him to be eaten by wild beasts.

According to Shafi. Who was, by his own admission, a thief.

But having come this far, Indrajit didn’t see another choice. His client was kidnapped, the client’s son was still in a trance, this was the way forward. He hissed in disappointment at the evil of the world.

He crept forward, Vacho raised and ready. The size of the shadow to his left told him that Munahim was with him. Indrajit stopped and stood the Wixit in a corner, away from the tub and the fire, then swung his blade to feel its weight. A second shadow crept forward; it was too big to be Fix, and had a slight carrion smell to it, carried up from the thylacodon pit. Shafi.

Shafi, who was now armed with a big kitchen knife.

He crept forward and they came with him.

He had to risk a little noise if he wanted to coordinate. “On three,” he whispered. He raised Vacho above his head. “One . . . two . . . three.”

He sprang forward and stabbed down, sinking his knife into the mound of furs. He struck flesh and smelled the hot stink of gushing blood. Kneeling on the furs, he felt a huge body beneath his knees shake, lift its arms and legs, and then let them drop. Munahim leaped onto the body with him, slashing repeatedly at what must be the body’s head.

Lightning flashed again and brought with it simultaneous thunder. Indrajit saw Munahim slash at the bedding, and as Munahim’s sword came away, a head came with it. Indrajit saw the flash of lightning on two long tusks, and then a spherical head swung away into the darkness.

“The hand!” Shafi shrieked. “Where’s the hand?” He plunged his knife into the bed.

“Stop stabbing!” Indrajit hissed.

Shafi stabbed at the bed again, and this time Indrajit punched him, knocking him to the floor.

The body lay still.

“A light,” Indrajit said. “We need a light in here. Can anyone find a lantern?”

He heard the sharp rasp of steel on stone, and then saw a faint flicker of light in the darkness. It grew in brightness and size until Indrajit realized what it was; Fix had struck fire to one end of a rolled scroll, and now held it up like a torch.

“You’re coming around to my view of the written word.” Indrajit chuckled.

Fix shrugged. “I couldn’t read it, anyway. I don’t even know what language it was in.” He held the torch high and poked about the room until he found a lamp. That lit, a mellow golden glow filled the chamber.

“This isn’t him,” Shafi gasped.

Indrajit pulled away the furs and blankets. They were dark purple with blood; he tossed them all into a heap. Beneath lay a massive body, sexless like a Gund’s but without the insectoid arms. Instead of a right hand, the corpse had a flipper.

Munahim lifted the severed head. He gripped it by a tusk; the head answered to Shafi’s previous description.

“What do you mean, this isn’t him?” Indrajit asked. “Because there’s no bracer on the arm, and no flask on a chain around his neck? Maybe he sleeps naked.”

Shafi shook his head. “Adunummu’s right hand is a flipper. This . . . person’s got a flipper, too, but look at it.”

Indrajit looked. The flipper was the left hand.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Is this some other Siskaloo, then?” Munahim asked.

Shafi shook his head. “Look, I . . . Look how this thing is sexless.”

“Yes,” Indrajit said.

“It’s not Adunummu,” Shafi said. “I’m pretty sure it’s not a Siskaloo at all, or any other kind of mortal man.”

“Adakles!” Fix yelled.

Indrajit wheeled about in time to see Adakles disappearing up the steps into the room above.

He rushed to the foot of the stairs and peered in vain up into the darkness.

“Adakles?” he called. He would be heard if anyone were on the floor above, but they’d already screamed and banged about enough to warn anyone up there that they were here.

“Come up,” a voice called back. “Let us talk.”

It didn’t sound like a Wixit.


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