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  'Time to play choose again,' Coilla said.

  'Ssshh!' Alfray had a finger to his lips.

  The band froze. They heard a sloshing sound. Something was approaching along one of the tunnels. They couldn't tell which.

  Stryke ushered them back into the shaft they came out of. The glowing brands were concealed. As they watched, two nyadds came out of the centre tunnel. They moved in their race's characteristic undulating fashion, impelled by immensely powerful lower muscles. These were creatures that may well have been more at home, and certainly more graceful, in water, but there was no doubt they had command of land too. On an evolutionary scale they were at equipoise, though whether they were heading for a future of exclusively air or water dwelling was a moot point.

  They were armed with their traditional jagged half sword, half spears, fashioned from hardened shale mined in the ocean's depths. Coral daggers were strapped to their shiny carapaces.

  Alfray whispered, 'Just the two?'

  'I think so. Try to keep one alive. Jup, make sure our rear's guarded.'

  At his signal, Alfray, Haskeer and Coilla rushed out with him to engage the nyadds. Three or four grunts backed them.

  Taken by surprise, overwhelmed by numbers, the creatures had no realistic chance. Alfray and Haskeer hacked one of them about the head and neck until it fell. Stryke and Coilla took the other, and inflicted wounds that downed it but weren't immediately fatal. It lay heaving like a crushed armoured slug, its blood mingling with the running water.

  Stryke knelt. 'The queen,' he demanded. 'Which way to the palace?'

  The nyadd took shuddering, rapid breaths and made no reply.

  'Where's the queen?' Stryke repeated, his tone more threatening. He used the tip of his sword to back his words.

  With an effort, the nyadd lifted an arm and pointed a shaking webbed hand. It indicated the right-hand tunnel.

  'The palace?' Stryke persisted. 'That way?'

  The nyadd managed to weakly nod its massive head. Then it slumped to a prone position.

  'You better not be lying,' Haskeer warned.

  'Save it,' Coilla said. 'He's dead.'

  Jup and the rest of the band splashed out of their hiding place.

  The bodies were left where they fell. Cautiously, the band entered the indicated tunnel, producing the sticks that glowed to light their way.

  It proved a longer tunnel than the previous one. But eventually it took them to another area open to the sky. The difference this time was that they were on a ledge. Sweeping down before them was a series of uneven rocky tiers, like piled slabs, that led to a jumble of further passageways and tunnels.

  Ahead, and looming high above, was a huge contorted confection of a structure. A bizarre fusion of nature and nyadd handiwork, it featured no straight line or untwisted tower. Rock and shell and ocean weeds combined to give the whole a wetly glistening organic aspect.

  'Well, we've found it,' Stryke declared.

  Jup tugged his sleeve and pointed downward. A dozen tiers below, and far to the left, a commotion was spilling into view. Two groups of nyadds were fighting each other. It was a vicious, no-holds-barred blood match, and even as the band watched several combatants went down.

  'Keppatawn was right about there being trouble here,' Coilla said.

  'If they've fallen into chaos it's the perfect cover,' Jup added. 'Seems we timed our visit well.'

  'But if they've fallen into civil war,' Stryke reasoned, 'maybe Adpar's already dead.'

  'If she governed wisely this shouldn't be happening,' Coilla reckoned. 'What kind of a ruler is it who's selfish enough to let her realm die with her?'

  'The usual kind, from what I've seen,' Jup told her. 'And she's Jennesta's sister, remember. Maybe it runs in the family.'

  Stryke indicated a wide carved passageway, directly ahead and below, that seemed to approach the palace. 'Right, let's go.'

  Keeping low, lest they be seen by the fighting parties, the band quickly moved down the rocky tiers to the passage. They got to it, and into it, without incident. Once inside it was a different story.

  About twenty paces in the tunnel took a sharp turn. Before they reached it, five nyadds came around the corner. Four were armed, and they seemed to be escorting the fifth, who bore no weapons. But he didn't look like a prisoner.

  Mutual surprise was soon overcome. The nyadds levelled their weapons and moved in.

  Coilla put one out of the picture instantly with a well-aimed knife lob. Conscious of the creatures' tough shells, she aimed for the head. Her blade penetrated its eye.

  The rest were tackled at close quarters, and again the orcs' superiority of numbers swayed it.

  Haskeer, hefting his sword two-handed, simply bludgeoned his hapless foe into oblivion. Alfray and Jup, working together, slashed at their opponent with determined efficiency. He went down with a multiplicity of wounds. Several grunts overwhelmed and killed the remaining warrior.

  Coilla made sure she retrieved her knife. It was the best blade she'd ever owned.

  That left just the unarmed nyadd. He cowered. 'I'm an elder! Non-military! Spare me! Spare me!' he pleaded.

  'Where's Adpar?' Stryke demanded.

  'What?'

  'You want to live, take us to her.'

  'I don't—'

  Haskeer put a blade to his throat.

  'All right, all right,' the elder blurted. 'I'll take you.'

  'No tricks,' Jup warned him.

  He took them through a maze of stony, lichen-covered passages. Like everywhere else they'd seen in the nyadds' land, they waded through inches of water all the way.

  At length they arrived at a broad corridor illuminated by slivers of the glowing rock. A pair of great doors stood at its end, guarded by two warriors. The band gave them little time to react, piling into them as a mob and cutting them to pieces. One ended the encounter with his head near completely severed.

  Several grunts dragged the corpses out of sight. The terrified nyadd elder was brought forward.

  'Is there anybody in there apart from her?' Stryke asked.

  'I don't know. A healer, perhaps. Our realm is in confusion. Rival factions are at each other's throats. For all I know the queen may already be dead.'

  'Damn!' Jup exclaimed.

  The elder looked puzzled. 'You mean that you're not here to kill her?'

  'What we're here for is too complicated to explain,' Alfray told him. 'But your queen still being alive is pretty important to it.'

  Stryke nodded and with caution they tried the doors. They weren't locked. Throwing them open, the band tumbled in.

  There was no one in the private chamber except the queen herself, spread out on her bed of swaying green tendrils. Everybody splashed over to her.

  'Gods,' Coilla murmured on seeing the queen's face. 'The resemblance to Jennesta's uncanny.'

  'Yes,' Alfray agreed. 'A bit sobering, eh?'

  'And they left her alone at the end,' Jup said.

  'Says a lot about what they thought of her, doesn't it?' Coilla replied.

  'The point is, is she still alive?' Stryke wanted to know.

  Alfray checked. 'Just.'

  The elder, forgotten, sneaked to the door. He got through it and sped along the corridor yelling, 'Guards! Guards!'

  'Shit.' Stryke said.

  'Leave it to me,' Coilla snapped.

  She flew to the doorway, plucking a knife. Back went her arm. The missile struck the fleeing elder in the back of the neck. He twisted and fell, displacing gouts of water.

  'Said they were good blades,' Coilla remarked.

  Stryke assigned a couple of grunts to watch the door and they returned their attention to Adpar.

  'We've been lucky so far,' he told them. 'It won't last. Do you reckon she can hear us, Alfray?'

  'Difficult to say. She's pretty far gone.'

  Stryke leaned into her. 'Adpar. Adpar! Hear me. You are dying.'

  Her head moved slightly on its emerald pillow.

  'Hear
me, Adpar. You are dying, and your sister, Jennesta, is responsible.'

  The queen's lips began to move. She grew more agitated, albeit weakly.

  'Hear me, nyadd queen. Your own sister did this to you. Jennesta was the one. Jennesta.'

  There was some fluttering of eyelids and quivering of lips. Her gills pulsated a little. Otherwise there was no reaction.

  'It's hopeless,' Coilla sighed.

  Haskeer weighed in with, 'Yeah, face it, Stryke, it ain't going to work. There's no use just standing here repeating Jennesta, Jennesta. Jennesta.'

  Stryke was crestfallen. He began to turn away from the deathbed. 'I just thought—'

  'Wait!' Jup exclaimed. 'Look!'

  Adpar's eyelids were flickering, blinking almost.

  'It started when Haskeer repeated Jennesta's name,' Jup reported.

  As they watched, the lashes of Adpar's eyes moistened. Then a single tear appeared and ran a little way down her cheek.

  'Quickly!' Alfray urged. 'The phial!'

  Stryke got out the tiny container and tried laying it against Adpar's flesh. His hands were clumsy.

  'Here,' Coilla said, taking the phial. 'This needs a female's touch.'

  Very carefully, she got the neck of the little bottle under the tear and gently compressed the cheek. The tear rolled and was caught. Coilla replaced the stopper and handed it to Stryke.

  'Ironic, isn't it?' she said. 'I'll bet she never shed a single tear in her whole life for the suffering she inflicted on others. It took self-pity to do it.'

  Stryke studied the phial. 'You know, I never thought we'd do this.'

  'Now he tells us,' Haskeer grumbled.

  'And the gods were with us,' Alfray announced, lowering Adpar's wrist. 'She's dead.'

  'Fitting that her last act should be the healing of one of her victims,' Stryke judged.

  'All we have to do now is get out of here,' Jup said.

  22

  Jennesta was in the middle of a strategy meeting with Mersadion when it happened.

  Reality reconfigured itself, became pliant. Changed. She had something like a vision, only it wasn't precisely that. It was more an overwhelming impression of knowing, a certainty that an event of great importance had taken place. And parallel with the knowledge came another thing, a distinct and vivid message, for want of a better word, that she found equally exciting.

  Jennesta had never before experienced anything like the sensation that possessed her. She supposed it resulted from the intimate telepathic link she involuntarily shared with her sibling. Had shared, she corrected herself. Adpar was dead. Jennesta knew that without a doubt. And it wasn't all she now knew.

  She hadn't realised that her eyes were closed, nor that she had reached out for the back of a chair to steady herself. Her head began to clear. She straightened and took some deep breaths.

  Mersadion was staring at her, a look of alarm on his face. 'Are you . . . all right, Majesty?' he ventured.

  She blinked at him uncomprehending for a moment, then gathered herself. 'All right? Yes, I'm all right. In fact I've rarely felt better. I've had some news.'

  He couldn't see how she could have. She had simply stopped mid flow and looked set to faint. No messenger had arrived, no notes had been passed into the tent. He snapped out of gaping at her and said, 'Good news, I trust.'

  'Indeed. A cause for rejoicing. In more ways than one.' Her somewhat dreamy, detached manner melted away. In a determined tone nearer the style he was used to, she snapped, 'Bring me a map of the western region.'

  'Ma'am.' He hurried to comply.

  They laid the map on the table and she circled one of her bizarrely long fingernails around an area embracing Drogan and Scarrock Marsh. 'There,' she announced.

  He was puzzled, again. 'There . . . what, Majesty?'

  'The Wolverines. They're to be found in this vicinity.'

  'Begging your pardon, ma'am, but how do you know that?'

  She smiled. It was triumphant and cold. 'You'll just have to take my word for it, General. But that's where they are. Or at least one of them—their leader, Stryke. We're moving as soon as you can organise the army. Which is to say in no more than two hours.'

  'Two hours is very tight, Majesty, for a force of this size.'

  'Don't argue with me, Mersadion,' she seethed. 'Timing is vital. This is the first solid lead we've had to that damned warband's whereabouts. I'm not throwing it away because of your sloth. Now get out there and set things in train!'

  'Majesty!' He made for the tent flap.

  'And send Glozellan in right away,' she added.

  The Dragon Dam appeared a few minutes later. Without preamble, Jennesta beckoned her to the map. 'I have intelligence that the Wolverines are here somewhere. You'll take a squadron of dragons and go ahead of the army. Scan the area for them. But don't attack unless you absolutely have to. Corner them if you must, but I want them intact when we get there.'

  'Yes, your Majesty.'

  'Well don't just stand there! Move yourself!'

  The haughty brownie gave a tiny bow and slipped from the tent.

  Jennesta began gathering what she needed for the journey. For the first time in weeks she felt positive about the turn of events. And she was rid of Adpar, which came like a great weight lifted.

  Then it seemed to her that the air in the tent grew somehow more . . . pliable. And the light was dimming, despite the lamps. She thought it must be the return of what she had undergone earlier, and wondered what else the cosmos might have to convey.

  But she was wrong. In almost total and unaccountable darkness now, she saw a pinprick of light wink into existence a couple of feet away. It was quickly joined by scores of others. They swirled and took on a more robust form. Jennesta made ready to defend herself against an attack of sorcery.

  A blotch of pulsing light hovered in the air. It coalesced and became something she could recognise. A face.

  'Sanara!' she exclaimed. 'How the hell did you do that?'

  'It seems my abilities have grown stronger,' her surviving sibling explained. 'But that isn't the point.'

  'What is?'

  'Your wickedness.'

  'Oh. You too, eh?'

  'How could you do it, Jennesta? How could you subject our sister to such a fate?'

  'You always thought her as . . .' she struggled for a word '. . . as reprehensible as me! Why change your tune now?'

  'I never thought her beyond redemption. I didn't wish her death.'

  'Of course, you're assuming I had anything to do with it.'

  'Oh, come on, Jennesta.'

  'Well, what if I did?' she replied defensively. 'She deserved it.'

  'What you've done is not only evil, it adds complexity to a situation already fraught with uncertainty.'

  'What the hell does that mean?'

  'This game you're playing, with the relics. The bid for even greater destructive power. There are other players now, sister, and their abilities may well outstrip your own.'

  'Who? What are you talking about?'

  'Repent. While there is still time.'

  'Answer me, Sanara! Don't palm me off with platitudes! Who have I to fear?'

  'In the end, only yourself.'

  'Tell me!'

  'They say that when the barbarians are at the gate, civilisation is as good as dead. Don't be a barbarian, Jennesta. Make good your ways, redeem your life.'

  'You're so bloody straitlaced!' Jennesta raged. 'Not to mention obscure! Explain yourself!'

  'I think you know what I mean, in your heart. Don't think what you have done to Adpar will go unrecorded, or unpunished.'

  The likeness of her face faded and disappeared, despite Jennesta's ravings.

  In another tent, not too far away in Maras-Dentian terms, a father and daughter conversed.

  'You promised me, Daddy,' Mercy Hobrow whined. 'You said I'd have the benefit.'

  'And you will, poppet, you will. I said I'd get back the heritage for you and I meant it. We're working on
where those savages might be right now.'

  She pouted grotesquely. 'Will it be long?'

  'No, not long now. And soon I'll make you a queen. You'll be a handmaiden of our Lord, and together we'll cleanse this land of the sub-humans.' He stood. 'Now dry your tears. I need to attend to this very business.' He planted a kiss on her cheek and went out of the tent.

  Kimball Hobrow walked a couple of yards to the fire and the group of custodians. The bodies of three orcs had been laid to one side. The fourth, still alive but only just, had now been finished with.

  Hobrow nodded to the Inquisitor. 'Well?'

  'They're tough. But this one broke at the last, praise the Lord.'

  'And?'

  'They've gone to Drogan.'

  The death rattle sounded in Corporal Trispeer's throat and he died.

  The growing chaos aided the band in getting out of Adpar's palace. They took some wrong turns in the labyrinth of passages, and had a skirmish or two with warriors encountered, but generally the populace were too busy fighting their own battles.

  But the exit they found was nowhere near the way they came in.

  'Looks like we've come out further north,' Stryke reckoned.

  'What do we do, go back in and try again?' Jup said.

  'No, it's too much of a risk.' He pointed. 'If we can cross that stretch of water yonder, then veer east, we should reach the marsh near where we left the horses.'

  Coilla frowned. 'Hell of a diversion, isn't it?'

  'I reckon going back into the palace is more chancy. One of those factions is going to come out on top any time soon. Then they'll notice interlopers.'

  'Let's get started, shall we?' Alfray suggested. 'We're too exposed here.'

  They traversed a spread of jagged rocks at double time, reached a flat and faced the water. It was covered in green scum.

  'Smells about as pleasant as everything else here,' Haskeer observed. 'How deep do you think it is, Stryke?'

  'Only one way to find out.' He eased himself in. It was cold, but his feet touched the bottom at waist-height. 'Going's a bit soft, but it seems all right otherwise. Come on.'

  They followed him, weapons held high, and began wading.

  'We should get extra pay for this,' Haskeer moaned.

  'Extra?' Jup said. 'Hell, Sergeant, we don't get any at the moment.'