Chapter 40
Night: II
“Skraelings!” Zared whispered, and reached for his sword. He had never fought against them himself, for
the battle for Tencendor was won by the time he slipped from Rivkah’s womb, but his father, Magariz,
had told him over many years of companionship-filled nights about his battles with the wraiths, and Zared
had every reason to fear. The Skraelings fed off terror as much as they did flesh.
Another whisper reached out from the night. A soft hiccup, and then yet more whispers moaning
along the back of the wind, knifing along the crystalline edge of every snowflake.
“They’re everywhere!” Azhure said, and lifted Katie into the cart. “Dammit! I wish I had a bow, a
sword, or even a cursed stick!”
“We can find you —” Axis began, but Ur waved a hand about and silenced him.
“We need no swords against such as these that wait outside,” she said.
“There are thousands of them!” Axis cried. “I can feel it!”
Sal pranced nervously about, laying her ears flat against her skull, and Axis had to exert all his skill to
keep her from bolting into the night. Sparrow-gift or not, at the moment she was behaving like any young,
nervous horse.
But Sal was the least of Axis’ concerns. Gods! How would he protect the millions of people and
creatures in this convoy? The strength of their fear alone would strengthen the Skraelings to the point
where no-one could defeat them!
“Forty-two thousand of them, to be exact,” Ur said. “Precisely what we need.”
“What!”
Ur sighed, and hugged her pot closer. “You have no imagination,” she said. “You think to
fight with swords when a little hospitality would work miracles.”
Zared, Axis and Azhure, who had now climbed back into the cart, stared at her.
“Hospitality?” Axis finally said. “You think we should invite them in for dinner?”
“Yes,” Ur said. “Or, at least, a friendly drink.”
Zared grabbed at Axis’ arm. “The wine, and the bowls, that Urbeth insisted we bring with us!”
Axis stared at Zared, and then back to Ur. “We get them drunk?”
Ur grinned. “Skraelings have ever had a poor head for alcohol,” she said, “but they cannot
resist it.”
I spent years fighting the wraiths with sword and blood, Axis thought, when I could simply
have got them drunk instead?
“Lessons are never too late for the learning,” Ur said. “Now, best find those wine barrels. The
night, the storm and the Skraelings are closing in, and if we can’t deal with the Skraelings, then none
of us will survive until dawn.”
The Demons swarmed down tunnel after tunnel, encountering little but tangled tree roots and the dank,
musky odour of the long-abandoned warren.
Occasionally, they found a scrap of white fur hanging off a sharp piece of stone, or caught in a tree
root, and those small white pieces of hope drove them further and further, and deeper and deeper.
And, as they sped deeper, the walls of the rabbit warren began to change.
Axis sent orders shouting back down the length of the column until the shouts were lost in the night and
the thick blanket of the snow-filled storm.
He hoped people had enough warmth left in their fingers to get the bowls out and filled.
Axis kneed Sal close into the side of the cart, and took the blanket Azhure held up for him,
spreading it over the horse’s back and hindquarters. Sal had been shivering so badly that Axis
thought she would throw him off with the strength of her tremors.
He slid from her back — the mare was so cold she was of little use — and grabbed at the three
bowls that a man handed him.
“Where’s the wine?” he said, the freezing air burning in his throat.
“Next cart down,” the man said, and Axis noticed that he had icicles hanging off his beard.
Tucking the bowls under one arm, he felt his own face.
It was crusted with ice.
“Let me give you a hand.” Zared, stumbling close by him.
Axis nodded, aiid handed him the bowls, taking more as they were passed out. If this didn’t work —
and he couldn’t see how getting the Skraelings drunk would aid them against the creeping death of the
ice-storm — they would not see out the hour, let alone the night.
The Demons were so intent on catching the rabbits — all thought of chasing the people fleeing Sanctuary
completely forgotten — that at first they did not notice the changes occurring about them.
But then the ferret that was Raspu slipped suddenly, unexpectedly, and careened into
Sheol.
She turned around and gave him a sharp bite on his shoulder, and then her eyes widened.
They were running through a tunnel of earth no more, but a tunnel carved through ice.
And through the ice, tens of thousands of eyes staring at them.
Sheol squeaked, half in annoyance, half in fear, and Qeteb turned and stared.
Axis stood, shaking with cold, as a man standing in the cart above him poured out a measure
of wine.
The man’s exposed hands were blue, and they trembled so badly the barrel jerked and wine spilt all
down the front of Axis’ tunic.
“No matter, man,” Axis said, “I have enough.” And he stepped aside so Zared could have
his bowl filled as well.
All about them were lines of men, bowls of wine in hand, stumbling out into the storm to lay the
bowls in the snow a good ten paces from the carts.
Everyone else, people and creatures alike, were huddled as best they could under blankets or carts
or, if small enough, under the clothes of people.
The only ones who appeared comfortable in the prevailing conditions were the Ravensbundmen and
women, who laughed and jested as they did more than their fair share of filling bowls with wine and then
placing them in the snow.
Gradually, as men and women stumbled back and forth in the snowy night, hundreds of wine-filled
bowls were laid out down the length of both sides of the column.
As Axis struggled back to where Azhure, Katie and Ur waited, Zared a pace behind him,
Ur grinned, and placed her terracotta pot on the ground before her.
“Not long to wait now,” she said.
Qeteb twisted about. They were trapped in a length of ice tunnel. What magic had brought them here?
How had he been trapped? No matter, he could find his way out of here without even the ghost of an
effort.
Chitter, chatter. Chitter, chatter.
Qeteb spun about again. Who was that? Behind and about him the other Demons snarled.
Chitter, chatter. Who have we here, chitter, chatter?
“Who are you?” Qeteb snarled. He did not like the feel of these beings, these eyes that stared down
at him through the thick layers of ice, for they had the feel of … the feel of free souls.
We are the Chitter Chatters, strange guest. Who are you?
“I am Qeteb, the Midday Demon, and Lord of this land!”
A strange, whispering laughter filtered through the ice. We have no lord, and we have no land.
Only this ice-bound, drifting world. A cruel world. Do you like our cruel world, strange guest?
Qeteb snarled, and struck at the ice roof above his head.
It did not even crack, and he sank back to all four paws, alternatively growling and mewling.
We do not know you, chitter, chatter. But we do not think we like you.
The Demons squirmed about in their confined space, probing for cracks and possible escape. Mot,
then Barzula and Sheol, growled.
“I have had enough!” Qeteb snarled, and struck out with his power.
Nothing happened. There was a sense of withdrawal from the Chitter Chatters, and then a
probing into the Demons’ minds again as they came back.
Chitter, chatter, we do not like you! We were not supposed to disturb any who came here,
save Skraelings —
— not whale or seal, chitter, chatter, nor Ravensbund or even any of the southerners —
— Ho’Demi charged us not to nibble at anyone’s minds save the Skraelings —
— and he saved us, and brought us to this cruel world —
— and we owe him and respect his wishes.
Are you Skraelings, chitter, chatter?
“I am Qeteb, the Midday Demon, and —”
Why are you here, Qeteb, chitter, chatter? Why do you worm so deep into the ice and disturb
us?
The Demons did not reply, but the Chitter Chatters caught the image of the rabbit chase, and they
laughed, chittering and chattering until the Demons scrabbled about furiously in the attempt to get to the
infuriating creatures.
We may not nibble at your minds, nor may we eat you, for we have promised. Nevertheless,
we think we have the perfect home for you, chitter, chatter!
Then, as the Demons felt themselves wrapped in unaccustomed power, and propelled