‘Of course.’
‘Have you noticed how, when chasing boar, they take hounds with them?’
The man nodded glumly. ‘Good,’ said Morak. ‘Then take this thought into that pebble-sized brain: I am a hunting noble and you are my dogs. Is that clear? I am not being paid to kill Angel. I am paying you.’
‘We could always shoot him from a distance, I suppose,’ said Jonas. ‘WardaFs very good with that bow.’
‘Fine,’ muttered Morak. ‘Just so long as it is done. But bring the girl to me, safe and hearty. You understand? She is the key to Waylander.’
‘That is against Guild rules,’ said Belash. ‘No innocents may be used . . .’
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‘I know the Guild rules!’ snapped Morak. ‘And when I want lessons in proper conduct I shall be sure to call on you. After all, the Nadir are well known for their rigid observance of civilised behaviour.’
‘I know what you want from the girl,’ said Belash. ‘And it is not this key to her father.’
‘A man is entitled to certain pleasures, Belash. They are what make living worthwhile.’
The Nadir nodded. ‘I have known some men who share the same . . . pleasures … as you. When we catch them among the Nadir we cut off their hands and feet and stake them out over anthills. But then, as you say, we do not understand you civilised people.’
The face was huge and white as a fish belly, the eye sockets empty, the lids shaped like fangs, clacking as they closed. The mouth was lipless, the tongue enormous and cratered with tiny mouths.
Miriel took Krylla’s hand, and the children tried to flee -but the demon was faster, stronger. One scaled hand closed on Miriel’s arm, the touch burning.
‘Bring them to me!’ came a soft voice, and Miriel saw a man standing close by, his face also pale, his skin scaled like a beautiful albino snake. But there was nothing beautiful about the man. Krylla began to cry.
The monstrous creature that held them leaned over the children, touching the cavernous mouth to Miriel’s face. She felt pain then, terrible pain. And she screamed.
And screamed . . .
‘Wake up, girl,’ said the demon, his hand once more on her shoulder. Her fingers snaked out, clawing at his face, but he grabbed her wrist. ‘Stop this. It is me, Angel!’
Her eyes flared open and she saw the rafters of the cabin, the light of the moon seeping through the knife-thin gaps in the shutters, felt the rough wool of the blankets on her naked frame. She shuddered and fell back. He stroked her brow, pushing back the sweat-drenched hair. ‘Just a
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dream, girl. Just a dream,’ he whispered. She said nothing for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Her mouth was dry and she sat up, reaching for the goblet of water by her bedside.
‘It was a nightmare. Always the same one,’ she said, between sips. ‘Krylla and I were being hunted across a dark place, an evil place. Valleys without trees, a sky without sun or moon, grey, soulless.’ She shivered. ‘Demons caught us, and terrible men . . .’
‘It’s over,’ he assured her. ‘You are awake now.’
‘It’s never over. It’s a dream now – but it wasn’t then.’ She shivered again, and he reached out, drawing her to him, his arms upon her back, his hand patting her. Lowering her head to his shoulder she felt better. The remembered cold of the Void was strong in her mind, and the warmth of his skin pushed it back.
‘Tell me about it,’ he said.
‘It was after Mother died. We were frightened, Krylla and me. Father was acting strangely, shouting and weeping. We knew nothing about drunken men. And to see Father stumbling and falling was terrifying. Krylla and I used to sit in our room, holding hands. We used to soar our spirits high into the sky. We were free then. Safe – so we thought. But one night, as we played beneath the stars we realised we were not alone. There were other spirits in the sky with us. They tried to catch us, and we fled. We flew so fast, and with such terror in our hearts that we had no idea where we were. But the sky was grey, the land desolate. Then the demons came. Summoned by the men.’