reached it now. Things seemed to slow, just as they began to move in earnest,
when the door flew open outward with no one touching it at all, when light flung
out into the dark and there were dark figures leaping to their feet inside that
building, but none darker than Ischade’s, who occupied that doorway.
And silence then, after momentary outcry. Dire silence, as if everyone inside
had stopped, just stopped. Mor-am stood stock still. But Mradhon stepped up the
single step to stand behind Ischade.
‘Give him to me,’ Ischade said very quietly, as if everything was sleeping and
voices ought to be hushed. ‘Mradhon Vis -‘ She had never looked around, and knew
him, somehow, by means that set his teeth on edge. So did calling his name here.
‘This man they have. Get him up. Whatever you can do for him. Mor-am knows the
way.’
He looked past her, to the wretch on the floor, to what this ragged, awful crowd
had left of a man. He had seen corpses, of various kinds. This one looked worse
than most and might still be alive, which daunted him more than death. But it
was a question of downhill. He walked in, among the beggar-horde, among ragged
men and women. Gods! there was a child, feral, with a rat’s sharp, frozen grin.
He bent above this seeming corpse and picked it up. not even thinking of broken
bones, only struggling with limp weight; the head lolled. It only had one eye.
Blood was everywhere.
Haught met him, passing Ischade, got the other arm of this perhaps-living thing,
and they took it to the door. Moria was there. Mor-am stood against the wall.