An enemy? Shaithis raised a mental eyebrow. And who might that have been?
What? The other seemed taken aback. But you know well enow! I speak of the abominable whelky one, who disguised himself with pustules and was companion to the Ferenc. Why, time and again he urged that grotesque giant to seek you out and murder you!
Shaithis nodded. That would be Volse’s way, sure enough. I was never a favourite of his. Nor he of mine. The monstrous clown: if his wens had been wits he’d outshone the lot of us! So it was your beast that killed him, eh?
Of course, of course, Shaitan’s mental voice sank deeper and darker yet. And do you think I could not kill you, too? Ah, I could, my son, I could . . . but will not. His tone was light again in a moment. No, for I sense that we’ll do well together. And since in various ways I’ve already shown my good will, the next stage is up to you.
Stage? Shaithis frowned. What stage is that?
Of the plan, Shaitan explained. Or would you have me do it all, and likewise claim all the credit?
Explain.
But there’s nothing to explain. Just go along with it in accordance with your own plan – exactly as planned – and that will suffice. In short, bring them to me, my son, so that I may deal with them in my way.
Fess and the leper’s son? And will you kill them? And then me, too, perhaps? Maybe I’d do better to stay joined with them against you? Better the devil you know, they say.
And after long moments: Devil? That’s a word I don’t much care for, said Shaitan. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. Be advised not to call me that again, not even obliquely.
Shaithis shrugged. As you will. And before he could say or ask any more: They are waking up, Shaitan hissed. The squat one and the giant both. Best if I leave now and not compromise you. Only bring them to me, Shaithis! A great deal depends upon it.
And as suddenly as that Shaithis’s mind was free of outside interference. But only just in time.
‘Shaithis?’ The Ferenc’s rumble echoed in the cold air. ‘I sense that you’re awake. Hah! It’s a bad conscience makes a man restless as you. You’ll have to mend your ways.’ And he laughed uproariously. The ice-castle shuddered and sent down a cascade of variously sized icicles, which in turn brought Arkis more fully awake.
Scratching himself, the leper’s son sat up. ‘What’s all the noise?’ he demanded.
Time we were up,’ Shaithis called across to him. ‘No more delays. We make our breakfast – poor fare that it is – and then we’re on our way. What or whoever the volcano houses, he’s our meat today. And all his goods in the bargain.’
‘Big talk, Shaithis,’ the other answered. ‘But we’ve to get past the pale, cavern-dwelling bloodbeast first.’
Three of us this time,’ said Shaithis, ‘and forewarned is forearmed. Anyway, Fess knows the beast’s lair. We’ll give it a wide berth and seek some other way in.’
The Ferenc chewed on cold meat and made his way down to the floor of the hall. ‘I for one am ready for it,’ he said. ‘A man can’t live for ever – not even a Lord of the Wamphyri, not that we’ve seen, anyway – and I’m damned if I’ll die of boredom or locked in the ice, terrified that something will find me there and dig me out.’
“Oh? Shaithis kept his thoughts guarded. Not live for ever? Well, perhaps not. . . but close enough, if Shaitan is anything to go by. And wouldn’t that in itself be sufficient reason to team up with the ancient: to discover the secrets of his longevity? It surely would.
As for Arkis and the Ferenc: Shaithis knew that sooner or later he’d be obliged to have it out with them anyway, so why delay matters? And even better if Shaitan desired to have a hand in it.
With these thoughts and others like them in his mind (but always guarded, especially thoughts such as these), Shaithis joined the others where they prepared to leave the ice-castle. And a short time later the three set out upon their long, slow climb up the frozen rise to where the central cone jutted some fifteen hundred feet higher still. Like a black, crouching giant the tower of volcanic rock waited for them, sombre under its canopy of cold stars and writhing auroral fire . . .