being. When would he find the time to fully explore it?
―I found that I could see inside its mind.‖
Drago looked at Goldman. ―Really?‖
―Aye. And most disturbing it was, too. This badger knew the voice was a trick, but could
not persuade his comrades to believe him.‖
Goldman paused. ―He was a special badger, and I spent a moment or two talking with
him.‖
Drago‘s eyes narrowed. ―That was dangerous, my friend.‖
Goldman nodded. ―That badger‘s mind connected directly to the Demons. One of them,
Sheol, spoke to me through the badger‘s mouth—‖
―What! What did you tell her?‖
―Nothing! But…‖
―But?‖
―But I think she realised that I was, ah, something ‗other‘ than she, or her companions,
had ever expected to encounter.‖
The Demons must be truly worried by now, Drago thought. When they‘d destroyed the
Star Gate, they had thought to have destroyed the most powerful well of enchantment in
Tencendor—the Star Dance. All the power that remained was that which emanated from earth
and trees, and that the Demons knew they could deal with once Qeteb was resurrected.
What they had never known—what no-one had known—was that the Star Dance lived on
within the craft, and literally within the land itself.
Well, very soon they were going to work it out.
But not before…gods! not before he had a chance to get into the Maze. Without
understanding why, Drago understood that whatever else happened, he had to enter the Maze
before the Demons did.
How far away were they? Far enough, he hoped.
―Drago?‖
Herme‘s voice broke into his reverie, and Drago looked at the Earl.
―There are perhaps a score of people to bring up the stairs and send through the
doorway,‖ Herme said. ―And then we will have done all we can for this section of Carlon. And
not before time. Every building surrounding this palace is afire.‖
Drago put a hand on Herme‘s shoulder. ―I thank you, Herme.‖ He looked beyond Herme
to where Gustus and Grawen stood. ―And you. Ten thousand at least owe you their lives.‖
―Nay,‖ Herme said quietly. ―They owe you their lives, Drago.‖
―Well…Herme, your family?‖
―They are among this final score to come through,‖ Herme said.
Drago nodded. ―Good. WingRidge? Get everyone through this door as fast as you can.
Herme, take the men you have with you, and follow your family through to Sanctuary. Wait for
me there.‖
―And you?‖ Herme asked.‖
―Goldman, WingRidge and I will wait in Spiredore for the others to complete their tasks.
And then…‖
―Then?‖
Drago shrugged. ―Then I will follow what my heart tells me, my friend.‖
For Faraday, Gwendylyr and Leagh, the situation was growing ever more desperate. Both
the fires, and whatever stray animals who had not responded to the enchanted summons, were
closing in like a nightmarish net, and yet the people continued to stream towards the houses
where the women had erected the doorways.
Faraday, like the other two women, had lost a little of her serenity. Smoke and biting
cinders choked corridors, making eyesight difficult, and control almost impossible to enforce.
Faraday strode up and down the lines of people in the corridors leading to the doorway chamber,
trying to keep them calm, but finding it difficult to keep composed herself when her lungs felt as
though they were afire and her voice was lost amid her coughing. She was reduced to simply
grabbing people‘s clothing, urging them along as fast as they could go—and yet trying not to
create panic—and patting faces and shoulders in an effort to generate calm.
But no-one could retain a convincing facade of calmness in this degree of calamity.
Without exception children were screaming their fear and panic; parents were crying and
shouting, young men were pushing and shoving, and girls sobbing and collapsing in sorry heaps
on the floor and tripping others up.
―What‘s happening?‖ Faraday shouted to the Lake Guardsman who suddenly loomed out
of the smoke at her shoulder.
―There are thousands more below in the streets!‖ he yelled, ―and more still moving
through falling debris and burning buildings to get to us. Ye gods, Lady Faraday! We are never
going to get them all out before this goes up completely!‖
―Do your best,‖ Faraday shouted. ―Do your best!‖
Hopelessly inadequate words. Utterly inadequate…but what else could she say?
A youth close to Faraday suddenly convulsed, screaming in jerky breaths, and everyone
within hearing distance dissolved into complete panic—had the fire leapt through the walls? Had
the Demons finally arrived to run amok through their midst?
Were the rats back?
―Calm down!‖ Faraday screamed. ―Calm down!‖
But the panic in her own voice did nothing to ease the panic of others, and within
heartbeats the entire corridor became a mass of pushing, shoving, screaming people, all
determined to get to the doorway and achieve their salvation at their neighbours‘ expense.
Faraday was pushed and pummelled herself. She tried desperately to think of something
she could do—surely there was some kind of calming spell her re-found Acharite powers could
give her? But she could not think in the midst of this frenzy, she could not breathe amid this madness, all she could feel and realise was that she was being consumed, sucked into the
trampling stampede of elbows and feet and—
Silence.
A shudder ran through the entire corridor, and Faraday swore she could feel it run
through the entire building and then sweep through to the crowds in the streets below.
She slowly got to her feet, straightening her robe and rubbing an upper arm where it had
been badly bruised.
Drago‘s cats were kneading their way along the corridor—that was the only verb
Faraday‘s numbed mind could come up with, but it entirely suited the cats‘ actions. A dozen
mongrel courtyard cats were climbing over the mass of people halfsitting, half-lying in the
corridor, their paws enthusiastically kneading flesh as they went.
And as they went, people smiled, stroked the cats, and passed them on to their neighbours
to be kneaded and loved in return.
Faraday stared, wide-eyed, her lips slightly parted. A cat brushed by her legs, butting his
head against her knees, and she bent down to pat him. A deep rumble of purr met her hands, and
the cat moved on to the next person.
Faraday remembered something Drago had told her on their long trip north. His
childhood spent in utter rejection, totally unloved…save by Sigholt‘s courtyard cats. They‘d
accepted him and loved him and given him their total friendship, for no price, and without caring
that he was the most reviled creature in Tencendor.
And now here they were again, spreading love and friendship, and somehow imparting
hope and joy. People rose to their feet and without prompting moved quietly and quickly through
the corridors—now miraculously almost cleared of smoke—towards the enchanted doorway.
The Lake Guardsman appeared again at Faraday‘s elbow. ―It‘s remarkable,‖ he said in a
low voice. ―A short while ago I would have said we‘d never get these crowds through in time.
Now, I think we‘re going to do it with time to spare.‖
Faraday nodded, but did not speak.
Instead her eyes, bright with tears, followed the progress of the last cat in sight, a rangy
ginger tom, as he rubbed his way through the forest of legs surrounding him.
Gwendylyr and Leagh had had similar experiences. No matter the efforts they‘d
expended trying to keep people calm, as the fires had drawn hotter and closer, and stray,
maddened animals attacked those people moving through streets towards doorways, panic
spread. Theod and Zared both thought they were about to again lose their wives: Zared was
especially worried as Leagh was pregnant. And yet, just as panic erupted into a potentially
deadly hysteria, the cats had appeared, happy, loving, utterly relaxed, and within heartbeats their
joy and serenity communicated itself to the crowds.
Nevertheless, both Theod and Zared were heartily glad when their wives had shooed
through the last refugee, Lake Guard member, whatever Alaunt they had with them, and had
stepped through into Spiredore themselves and folded down their doorways.
Leagh was the last one to close her doorway, and just as she reached to fold it down, the
cats came bounding through and thundered down the stairs in Spiredore in some mad feline
chase until they were lost in its twisting gloom.
Leagh took a deep breath, recovering from the start they‘d given her, then folded down
the door. Then she stood as if uncertain, holding the glowing cube of light in her hand, a tear
running down her face.
―Why so sad?‖ Zared asked, wiping the tear away. ―We have rescued most people.‖
Leagh held up the cube of light, her face illuminated in its glow. ―Beyond this,‖ she
looked at the cube, ―Carlon lies a-burning. We could save the people, Zared, but we could not
save the city.‖
―A city is only its people,‖ Zared said, his voice gentle.
Leagh shook her head slightly. ―Carlon was ever more than that, Zared.‖