JULIEN

II

Chapter 80

Persuasion

When it came to choosing a Guide to go with him Subadar didn't have many options. In fact he didn't really have any choice at all: it would have to be Wenn Hyaï, because he was the only one with a detailed knowledge of recent events. And, of course, because it would not be possible to persuade him to stay safely at home. Subadar was well aware that if things went seriously wrong, taking Wenn Hyaï with him would mean depriving the most promising Nyingtchik for many years of their instructor.

Of course, he also knew that if things went seriously wrong there were more important issues to worry about than depriving Ambar and Yülien of their teacher. Come to that, it wouldn't be easy to stop those two from sticking their heads into the hornets' nest either, because they had an annoying tendency to ignore the fact that they were both just kids.

Xarax would have to come, of course. As soon as he found out what was going on no power in the universe could hold the haptir back. However, Xarax would clearly be an asset; his ability to deal with the unexpected had already been demonstrated more than once.

On the other hand, Aldegard and Tahlil would be of no help to them, and nor would Niil, who would have to be persuaded, forcibly if necessary, to stay out of it. As for Tannder and Dennkar, they at least were wise enough to know without needing to be told that their presence would only make the Guide's job more complicated.

So now it was time to tell everyone what was going to happen...

oo0oo

“Are you out of your mind, Subadar?!”

Lord Aldegard had jumped to his feet and was now pacing about the Council Chamber.

“Did I hear you correctly?” he went on, not even trying to hide his anger. “You're intending to practise the Dark Arts?! You, Grand Master of the Upper Circle of Major Arts?! And, not content with that, you want to go to Tandil to do it??!”

“Please, My Lord, get a grip on yourself.”

“I'll get a grip on myself when you start talking sense again and remember your commitments!”

“I'm sorry, but there's nothing very sensible about this situation, and as for my commitments, I certainly haven't forgotten them, and nor do I think that what I'm proposing is in any way a contradiction of them.”

“You swore that you would never have anything to do with the Dark Arts!”

“I'm perfectly well aware of that. If you remember, I also swore to dedicate myself to the defence of the R'hinz and, like you, to defend the Emperor with my own life if necessary. Now I have to stand by that oath. If you don't like the methods I intend using to do that, by all means leave now before I say anything more.”

Almost a minute of heavy silence passed before Lord Aldegard, Mirror of the Emperor, was able to regain his composure and return to his seat.

“Forgive me, Subadar,” he said. “I should not have doubted your loyalty to the oath you swore.”

“Don't worry, My Lord: we're all a bit shaken up by this, and we don't always take the time to express ourselves as carefully as we would normally. Anyway, as I was saying, it's more than likely that Wenn Hyaï's klirk has vanished, not because it's been destroyed, which would be extremely hard to achieve in the short time between the attack and Wenn Hyaï's first attempt to locate it, but because it is being hidden by an entity like a Neh-kyong or, more probably, a Dre tchenn. The secret history of the R'hinz tells us that on several occasions the Emperor had to confront groups of outcasts who were dedicated to the worship of the so-called Old Gods. And Tandil is the only place in the Nine Worlds where such communities still pop up from time to time. Of course I could be wrong, in which case it will be up to you to pursue the search in other directions, but right now I have no idea what other direction there could be.”

Ambar hesitantly raised his hand.

“Please may I ask something, Master Subadar?” he said.

“This is a council meeting, and you've been invited to it. Therefore you can certainly speak.”

“Well... I know that you don't want us to come with you. But I reckon me and Yülien could be pretty useful to you.”

“Look, I'm sure that offer comes straight from the heart, but...”

“No! Please listen: I know we're not much, us two. We're not Grand Masters. We're not even Master Guides. But we can still do stuff that nobody else can. Ask Master Wenn Hyaï if you don't believe me. We can go where nobody else has ever gone. All right, I know that won't necessarily solve anything, but it could be useful, don't you think? And...”

“Yes?”

“Well, it's pretty obvious that what you're going to do is really dangerous, and if anything happened to you and Master Wenn Hyaï, we could act like a sort of back-up Guide – couldn't we?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so. But...”

“Please! I swear we won't be a nuisance – we'll just be there in case you need us!”

Suddenly Xarax, who was following the discussion in his usual unobtrusive way, jumped onto Ambar's shoulder. By this stage Ambar had started to sound a bit like a whining child trying to wheedle a favour from a parent, but once Xarax arrived his tone changed.

“Xarax says,” he said in a much more confident voice, “that he will take full responsibility for our safety and that he will stay with us. He also says that he will be the one to decide if we need to do anything, and that he'll tell us what to do if that happens.”

“Who am I to contradict Master Xarax?” said Subadar. “Very well, you have my permission. But I have to warn you and your chenn-da that you're putting your lives on the line if you come with us, and in fact it might be even more than just your lives you're risking. So think about it carefully: you have half a tchouksö to decide if you still want to come. After that I'm leaving.”

oo0oo

Chapter 81

Outside Time

Time no longer made any sense – literally: time flew in every direction. It was infinitely worse than being in the Outside. In the Outside, the duration of time played tricks on you, but eventually you got used to it. But here, something had been perverted in the nature of time itself: you couldn't tell if you were before or after, and now simply looked unreal.

Julien was in pain, and he was cold. He was sure the man had ripped his buttock open. He couldn't see very well, either, although he had briefly had the impression that day was dawning. But when would it finally happen?

He'd expected to be raped. The hatred of the man had been almost tangible, and he'd never met anything like it before.

He couldn't hear the drum any longer.

God, he was freezing!

And he could smell the sea – well, not so much the sea as the stagnant water you find on mud flats, where abandoned boats slowly rot away. The mud flats that are home to blind, pallid worms, bloated things with star-shaped mouths full of tiny sharp gnawing teeth...

There were people somewhere close by. When? People who stank of fish and who ate things. Lots of things. Lots of people, eating revolting things that they tore open with their claws. Revolting things that they tore from wailing, feeble creatures that looked like tiny babies. Puppets of bluish flesh. Without eyes. And with, instead of a nose, two open holes above a gaping, toothless mouth.

Puppets which, like a violin's top string tightened too far so that it breaks, uttered a sort of squeal and then died. Probably.

And the waters of the marsh lapped at the shore, water thick as pus, steaming gently in the cold air, generating a mist in which were hiding...

Light was dead for ever. Only twilight persisted.

There was a darkness somewhere which swelled.

Something was touching him.

TOUCHING him!!!

He was/would not be tied to the stinking rock any longer. He had been/would be/still was? standing on the half-rotted boards of a stranded barge.

And the surf, far, far away, invisible beyond the slowly drifting mist, whispered. It whispered, so quietly that you had to strain your ears to hear it, the blasphemous secrets which a necromancer had one day betrayed and confided to the pages of a book that nobody could read and remain sane.

SOMETHING was touching him.

TOUCHING him!!!

Touched his ankle. But there was nothing. Nothing but mist rising from mud. Touched him. But that contact was nothing like the revolting manipulations of a perverted sorcerer.

More than just his body, something touched HIM.

He felt something look inside him with contempt, stirring his memories and distorting them into hideous caricatures. His mother, naked, accidentally surprised as she stepped from the shower and covering herself with a little cry, suddenly changed into a ghoul, terrifying and lecherous, burning with a black desire for her child. Ugo the dog welcoming his father home and then suddenly panting and drooling, obscenely burying himself inside his master in a copulation from the depths of hell.

Something was touching him, forcing his penis to react to these nightmare visions, and to others...

Gallier – quiet, shy, gentle Gallier who sat next to him during French lessons, now bent over the master's desk, naked, abandoning all reserve as he spread his buttocks with his hands, offering his blinking Cyclops eye to anyone who wanted to take it.

Ambar, plastered with make-up like a cheap rent boy, slowly swallowing a huge penis that belonged to no-one other than Jacques Berthier, his friend's father.

Something was worming its way deep inside him, making him discover desires and tastes that were completely unknown to him, terrible and fascinating at the same time. To sink his hands into viscera and gloat over the despair of a victim far too young to understand which appetite it fed. Evil did not exist, and neither did good. Only need – a fierce, driven necessity to be. Pain was itself a pleasure.

Something was crawling along his leg. A centipede, at least thirty centimetres long, of a mottled reddish colour, sporting a cluster of vaguely luminous and obviously venomous appendages at each end. Paralysed with disgust he could only watch its progress, its hooked legs – far too many of them – lifting one after the other in nauseating undulations. He knew that if he made the least move to dislodge it the monstrosity would release its venom.

And, far away, the surf still whispered.

A drop of thy blood for an instant of my eternity?

NO!!!

If there was one thing he rejected above all others, it was sharing anything with That One, the One Who whispered in the mist.

The PAIN!

From his anus to the top of his skull he felt an icy iron rod, sharp as a needle.

And the FIRE. The fire of the stake feeding on the sulphur-soaked garment and gnawing at the blistering flesh...

And the peace, instantly, the sweet darkness. The wonderful absence of any pain.

“Julien.”

His own voice, in his head, but with an accent he did not recognise.

“Julien, I am Yulmir.”

oo0oo