painting turned to him and took him by the hand.
He had expected that, and he reached with his other arm embrace Her, but She
continued to turn in his grasp, drawing him after her, faster and faster until
the green meadow blurred around him.
‘Wait! Where are we going? Beside the river there is a shady bower where we can
lie, and -‘ Damn! If only She would stop and face him for a moment he would know
Her name!
Clouds boiled around him with a roar of thunder. The difference between up and
down was disappearing and the paintbrush was torn from his hand.
‘Who are you?’ he shouted. ‘Where are you taking me?’
And then he was hurtling through winds that tore away his awareness until he
knew nothing but the implacable grip that held his hand. The world had
disintegrated into pain and darkness, but through the clouds that whirled around
him he glimpsed brief images – the pretentious splendours of a great city where
a beleaguered emperor’s banner flew; armies crawling like lines of ants across
the plains; mountains that shuddered with the struggles of men and mages, and
here and there a pocket of greater darkness where forces worse than human strove
for mastery.
And then he saw below him a familiar curve of harbour and a tangle of houses and
a tarnished golden dome. and pain clapped great hands around him and he fell.
Lalo’s mouth tasted like the midden of the Vulgar Unicorn and he felt as if the
Stepsons had been practising manoeuvres on the inside of his skull. Except for
an annoying throbbing in his arm, he could hardly feel his body at all.