apologising, demanding, cajoling, and drawing every single step out of him one at a time.
Did they walk the length of Shale or had time been arrested somehow, beyond the trudge of weary feet, the howl of hounds and the continuous stream of talk that tumbled from Cadell’s lips?
But the scrub came at last to an end, opening onto a flat clearing a mile in diameter at least. A small hill marked the centre of the clearing. The source of the stream was a tiny spring at the foot of the hill, the water gleamed, a single silvery eye.
Cadell grinned. “A Lode of the Engine. Lode B1914 in fact,” he said almost smugly. “Ah, yes. It’s all turned out rather well, considering.”
Before David could ask him what he meant by that and how anything that had happened to them that evening could be construed as going even remotely well, the Quarg Hounds howled again, paws slamming into the water.
“David, you’re going to step out of the water now. The stream is broadening and deepening. There is no way we can continue to walk in it. Once we reach the shore, you are going to have to run. I know how difficult that is, but you must. Run as hard and as fast as you can towards that hill. The Quarg Hounds will be running too.”
David glanced from hill to hounds to Cadell. “What about you?”
Cadell shook his head. “I must stay in the water. If I could I would have you stay here with me, but it would be... dangerous.”
The Quarg Hounds were already sprinting towards the edge of the stream. “But–”
“David, don’t ask questions, questions are for later – now run.”
David shuddered, his cold lips clung to his teeth, all he could taste was blood and snot, and all he wanted to do was curl up and die.
“Run!”
He dragged himself to the edge of the stream, clambered over its grassy bank, and ran on legs ready to collapse beneath him. Ran, towards the hill.
Ran towards the Quarg Hounds.
Chapter 18
Two enemies united, by a common, greater foe. Such alliances are fragile. The Vergers had been formed to ensure such alliances remained whole. Of course, it was open to corruption.
What isn ’ t?
Deighton – Vergers: Knives and Knaves.
The Dolorous Grey made its smoking, juddering progress out of the station, picking up speed on the slippery tracks as it clattered past the final gates of the platform. The driver released the horn and, all over Mirrlees, people paused and listened to that mournful sound. Medicine, in his hiding place in the shadows by Central Station, was one of them.
He crouched in a nest of iron beams and watched as smoke and the storm devoured the train.
“Good luck, David,” he whispered, and rubbed with aching fingers at the tension turned to knots in his neck. “You’re going to need it. At least the Council won’t have you now. Your father would be pleased with that if not the company that you keep.”
Desperate times demand desperate measures.
He slid from his hiding place onto the street, gripping his umbrella in both hands. The damn thing was heavier than his usual, a sabre hidden in this one’s wooden neck. When he moved too fast he could feel the blade rattling.
Medicine hurried down Argent Lane reflecting that while you could not see that bright moon in Mirrlees’ Sky, the downpour did little to obscure this street’s luminous stretch. Red lights glowed in every window, and the whistles of painted ladies, from doorway, corner and alley, pierced the crashing rain with their lascivious promises. Some of them calling out to him by name.
He was tempted, very tempted. Just to get out of the rain, he told himself, but his funds were dangerously low, most of his money had gone into Cadell’s wallet. Medicine still had his supporters, people he could call on, though every day that number decreased. And those remaining were, perhaps, suspect. Just who had they made deals with? A few more weeks and Medicine knew he would have to flee the city; but there remained things to be done. At
Did they walk the length of Shale or had time been arrested somehow, beyond the trudge of weary feet, the howl of hounds and the continuous stream of talk that tumbled from Cadell’s lips?
But the scrub came at last to an end, opening onto a flat clearing a mile in diameter at least. A small hill marked the centre of the clearing. The source of the stream was a tiny spring at the foot of the hill, the water gleamed, a single silvery eye.
Cadell grinned. “A Lode of the Engine. Lode B1914 in fact,” he said almost smugly. “Ah, yes. It’s all turned out rather well, considering.”
Before David could ask him what he meant by that and how anything that had happened to them that evening could be construed as going even remotely well, the Quarg Hounds howled again, paws slamming into the water.
“David, you’re going to step out of the water now. The stream is broadening and deepening. There is no way we can continue to walk in it. Once we reach the shore, you are going to have to run. I know how difficult that is, but you must. Run as hard and as fast as you can towards that hill. The Quarg Hounds will be running too.”
David glanced from hill to hounds to Cadell. “What about you?”
Cadell shook his head. “I must stay in the water. If I could I would have you stay here with me, but it would be... dangerous.”
The Quarg Hounds were already sprinting towards the edge of the stream. “But–”
“David, don’t ask questions, questions are for later – now run.”
David shuddered, his cold lips clung to his teeth, all he could taste was blood and snot, and all he wanted to do was curl up and die.
“Run!”
He dragged himself to the edge of the stream, clambered over its grassy bank, and ran on legs ready to collapse beneath him. Ran, towards the hill.
Ran towards the Quarg Hounds.
Chapter 18
Two enemies united, by a common, greater foe. Such alliances are fragile. The Vergers had been formed to ensure such alliances remained whole. Of course, it was open to corruption.
What isn ’ t?
Deighton – Vergers: Knives and Knaves.
The Dolorous Grey made its smoking, juddering progress out of the station, picking up speed on the slippery tracks as it clattered past the final gates of the platform. The driver released the horn and, all over Mirrlees, people paused and listened to that mournful sound. Medicine, in his hiding place in the shadows by Central Station, was one of them.
He crouched in a nest of iron beams and watched as smoke and the storm devoured the train.
“Good luck, David,” he whispered, and rubbed with aching fingers at the tension turned to knots in his neck. “You’re going to need it. At least the Council won’t have you now. Your father would be pleased with that if not the company that you keep.”
Desperate times demand desperate measures.
He slid from his hiding place onto the street, gripping his umbrella in both hands. The damn thing was heavier than his usual, a sabre hidden in this one’s wooden neck. When he moved too fast he could feel the blade rattling.
Medicine hurried down Argent Lane reflecting that while you could not see that bright moon in Mirrlees’ Sky, the downpour did little to obscure this street’s luminous stretch. Red lights glowed in every window, and the whistles of painted ladies, from doorway, corner and alley, pierced the crashing rain with their lascivious promises. Some of them calling out to him by name.
He was tempted, very tempted. Just to get out of the rain, he told himself, but his funds were dangerously low, most of his money had gone into Cadell’s wallet. Medicine still had his supporters, people he could call on, though every day that number decreased. And those remaining were, perhaps, suspect. Just who had they made deals with? A few more weeks and Medicine knew he would have to flee the city; but there remained things to be done. At
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