Gangs of Antares [Dray Prescot #45] Read online

  As always, as always, I felt sorry for the poor thing. It screeched and stank and turned around. Whining and howling it scuttled off into the confusing shadows.

  We went on and down resolutely, alertly. All the time I kept wondering why the Everoinye had not plucked me up out of the tunnels and set me down to my duty. Why?

  When the blue radiance formed Dimpy remained in complete ignorance of the phantasmal presence of a Witch of Loh. He could not hear Ling-Li or me. Her Ivory of Chem face looked as gravely beautiful as ever. “Gron-Arm-Chenlang. That's his name. Recently graduated.”

  “I supposed,” I said drily.

  “Deb-Lu at first was concerned he might not be a true Wizard of Loh—of Walfarg. Khe-Hi, too, was worried lest he was a—”

  “Yes?”

  She touched her lips with an exquisite finger. “Balintol is famous for sorcery, Dray. The old king in Tolindrin tried to suppress some of them because they were becoming too powerful.”

  “I've only heard of low level mages here.”

  “Quite. It is better that way. Oh, and the trident. Deb-Lu is looking into that matter.”

  When I suggested she might like to give us directions as to the best way of getting out of this maze, and of contacting our ambassador when we did, she gave an immediate assent. Her directions were lucid and easily followed. After she had gone and Dimpy was with me again, as we went on down I saw that he was following Ling-Li's suggested route. We met a couple more nasty moments. But working together we came through unscathed and, at blessed last, debouched from the hole in the cliff face leading onto a side alleyway.

  The mingled and wonderfully exotic aromas of the warrens wafted into my nostrils. There was little noise for it was near morning and the dopa dens and their ilk had at last closed. We crept out.

  “This was all Roaring Fifties territory. Now it's Hellraisers'.” He sounded bitter. We paused at the corner of the street.

  “Can you guide us to Skullbiter territory, Dimpy?”

  He looked his surprise. “Why? Yes, of course I can; but—”

  “Homespun Street.”

  “Yes. Off Umpitor Kyro. The Katakis have a watchhouse there.”

  “Nagzalla's Nasty Neemus. They'll help.”

  He looked more than a little incredulous. He started to say something, shook his head, and didn't.

  At this hour the gangs would not in the normal way be active. We had to be carefully on the lookout for the City Watch. That rabble would be only too happy to take up unwary pedestrians. The Kataki officers would gloat at the chance of a few more slaves. We went along the darkened streets between the hills with extreme caution.

  One of the lesser moons of Kregen shot past above, a glinting spark one moment, gone the next.

  There was little traffic along the cableways overhead. The place was not completely silent—what great city ever is?—a dog barked, carts rumbled complainingly, and a couple of late roisterers staggered past. I didn't give much for their chances, the famblys.

  Although we'd rested on and off in the descent, Dimpy was obviously tired. We were both famished. We were still in one hell of a mess, and far from safely out of it yet.

  Umpitor Kyro with its watchhouse was a major obstacle.

  Dimpy tapped his foot nervously on the ground as we peered across the square. Homespun Street at our backs was beginning to think of coming to life for the next day. The Suns of Scorpio would not shine down here for a long time yet; people were up and about by the lights of lamps and torches. The whole place held that hushed air of expectancy ready to herald a fresh beginning.

  A light voice at our backs said: “I've been following you, Dimpy. What you up to, then? And who's your big friend?”

  We spun about. I'd been so watching out for the Katakis this young girl had followed us completely unobserved. I crushed down my annoyance at the mistake.

  “Come on, Dimpy! By Ferzakl, I didn't expect to see you again!”

  She was a Hytak, a fine strong girl with good features and a splendid body. She fingered the sheath of the dagger at her belt. Dimpy swallowed.

  “Big Balla! Well—it's a long story.”

  I cut in, and to Dimpy's surprise said my name was Kadar the Hammer. Very forcefully, using that sometimes hateful power of the yrium, I explained some of the situation, and told Big Balla we were going up onto the hill. Her reply, I suppose, shouldn't have surprised me. Not when all the circumstances were taken into consideration. Dimpy's response was immediate.

  “Can she come with us? I mean—what with Sleed the Slick—”

  “He's worse than being chased, is he?”

  “Too true, by Ferzakl!”

  This Sleed clearly was an unpleasant character, and I could see Dimpy was fond of Big Balla. If only for his sake I'd have to accede. All the same, it could prove an inconvenience, to say the least, by Krun.

  “We have to get across to Nagzalla territory.”

  “Nath Market Street,” said Big Balla. “They just took it.”

  “Aye.”

  So, the blessed fates had taken a hand again, for Big Balla simply organized our expedition to cut through an alley and then go through a house whose occupants she knew. An advang family, they were up and preparing themselves for the day's labors. They let us through without fuss, Big Balla thanked them, and we walked smartly along to Nath Market Street.

  All the time the nagging sense of this whole scenario being, as it were, wrong, oppressed me. Why, for the sweet sake of Jaz the Impedimenter, hadn't the Star Lords taken me up and slapped me down again to my duty with the numim twins? Why? Had we failed? Had Fweygo been slain and the numims slaughtered? Was that the reason my presence there was no longer required?

  Once into Nagzalla territory a very few enquiries brought me face to face with Brory the Bold. He came out from an inner room rubbing sleep from his eyes. As the curtains swished to there was just a glimpse of the maiden he'd claimed in marriage sitting up in bed. Her hair was ruffled; her face looked happy, which pleased me.

  “Kadar the Hammer! By Reder—where've you been?”

  I gave him a garbled account of being trapped in the hill and went on to request his help in getting us away. He looked undecided. A fresh round of the war against the Volcanoes was about to begin. He'd appreciate it if I'd help. So, once more, that imperious Dray Prescot yrium had to flash forth. Overpowering him, I demanded assistance.

  The Neemus had their entrances and exits. There were ways up.

  Both Dimpy and Big Balla remained subdued. Here they were with a gang with whom, in the not too distant future, their own gang might be at war for territory and control of the rackets.

  The first priority was food and drink. We sat down to a good Kregan meal. If Ling-Li could organize it with our ambassador a voller might fly down for us. That would be nice. I did not count on it. Big Brory would have to come through.

  We needed sleep and quarters were found. Dimpy said: “Can we trust these Nasty Neemus? They looked at our shamlaks a bit hard.”

  “My wonderful show-off red shamlak,” I said, with more self-mockery than useless bitterness. “That contributed to our misfortunes.”

  Dimpy grunted and curled up in his blanket.

  If the Everoinye didn't call for me then there was no breakneck rush on my part to return up top. A good sleep, some more grub, and with a hitch to my belt I'd be ready. I slept.

  That evening when we awoke Brory reported he'd organized a party to go through the hill. It was not safe for a few people. He was humming a little song, “Nandy Nath's Blind Pilgrimage” which, given the circumstances, was either in very bad taste or was grimly prophetic of disaster within the hill. His new wife came in and, in truth, she looked happy. We ate again, and drank sparingly, and then it was time for the off. I thanked Brory sincerely; but I also left him in no doubt that I had other fish to fry than joining the Neemus.

  He'd put another Brokelsh, Brango the Toriner, in command of the party, a fellow with a bent nose and an oddly hi
gh-pitched voice.

  We went through a quiet dormitory section and came out onto a cross street with its cable supporting tower without a Kataki watch house. Across the way the torches flared, people shouted, the night's doings were well under way. The noise increased alarmingly.

  A mob abruptly materialized. Helter-skelter they ran madly past us, screaming. Brango grabbed a Gon and shook him. “What!”

  “The Screaming Leems!” The Gon was almost incoherent with fear. “They've busted through the Cherry Chavonths! We're all doomed!”

  “By the Resplendent Bridzilkelsh!” Brango looked wild. “The Screaming Leems have had this planned all along! I've gotta get back and warn Brory!”

  As he spoke the ground moved beneath our feet.

  Chunks of stone dislodged from the sides of the canyons began to fall about our ears. The noise boomed up drowning the pitiful shrieks of the humans trapped in their slots of darkness.

  The tremor shook everything savagely. We staggered as though dopa drunk. A zorca-sized slab fell on a polsim who vanished save for arms and feet and spraying blood.

  “Come on!”

  I yanked Big Balla by the arm and with Dimpy we fled for the side wall, lurching as the ground lurched.

  “By the slime-infested intestines and the maggoty eyeballs of Makki Grodno! This would have to happen now!”

  The whole of Kregen, it seemed, roared and rattled and rumbled about us. Dust swirled madly everywhere. We crouched hard against the side wall as the hill above our heads disintegrated.

  Mites of humanity, we waited for the end of the world.

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  * * *

  Chapter twenty

  With Dimpy at one end and me at the other we heaved the slab up and toppled it aside. The mess of black blood and splintered yellow bones underneath had been a woman and her child.

  The world had not come to an end. But it seemed not far off to the folk down here working like ants to clear away debris. There might still be people trapped. We found some alive; a couple of days later we were uncovering only dead bodies. We worked, ate and drank, slept when we fell. We wore scarves over our mouths and nostrils. The sights were pitiful, ugly, depressing. The spirit of the folk of the warrens was splendid. They toiled without stint. Members of opposing gangs worked side by side, enmities forgotten. Oh yes, in bringing death and destruction, the forces of nature can also bring out the best in humanity.

  There was looting, of course. Looters who were caught received short shrift.

  The cable car tower had fallen, trailing lines. One odd and interesting, if expected, fact of note was the complete absence of the City Watch. The Katakis and their masichieri scum had all been summoned aloft to assist the great ones as they cleared up.

  Still, through all the horror, the Star Lords had not summoned me. What in a Herrelldrin Hell had happened to Fweygo, Nandisha, the children? It had seemed to me the only honorable course of action to stay and assist these people who had shown friendship to my friends and me. Dimpy and Big Balla slaved as we all slaved. Loyalty to new friends down here and to be shown. All the same, what was going on up there, above our heads, among the palaces and temples?

  In some countries of two worlds the houses of the poor folk fall down of their own accord from time to time without the assisting nudge of an earthquake. The swathes of destruction along the streets was heartrending; rubble, shattered timbers, odd angles of wood and stone, all jumbled in dust-clogged piles. Three days after the shock Dimpy and I, smothered in dust and dirt, turned over a slab and to our consternation heard a faint cry. Frantically we dug, hauling blocks away, carefully making sure nothing would tumble down. We found a young girl about Tiri's age with smashed legs under a beam. She held a dead baby in her arms, and her granny lay in a black-blood pool at her side. She was not quite mad yet. Her face looked like a shriveled leather shoe. We carried her out. What else was there we could do? What was her life to be now?

  The gangs organized food supplies. Brory told me with grim satisfaction that he'd led a raid that had taken up some of the rich farm produce destined for the hills. The carts had been intercepted, the guards slain or driven off, and then galloped into the dark slots between the hills. We all fed well that day. A few days after that, a very brief visit from Ling-Li told me Ambassador Invordun requested me to be at the center of the ruined kyro at the hour of dim.

  I heaved a sigh of relief. We had done what we could to assist down here. Now I must find out what had been going on in the world above.

  So it was with something of a tremble of apprehension I observed the fantamyrrh boarding the airboat. Dimpy and Big Balla followed. For them this was a fresh adventure. For me it might be the end of all my adventuring on the terrible and mysterious world of Kregen.

  The red eye-patch looked like the black eyesocket of a skull as Nalgre ti Poventer greeted me. She of the Veils was up, riding the night sky between the stars. A gleam of roseate light struck a long curved shine from the Gon's shaven head.

  The voller lifted and soared up and out of the chill horrors of the warrens. Nalgre told me that much of Oxonium had been knocked down by the tremors. There was important news, but: “I must allow the ambassador to tell you, Drajak.”

  So I had to contain my curiosity until we were ensconced in Elten Larghos's inner sanctum. Dimpy and Big Balla sat silently, sipping wine and stuffing themselves with good Vallian food. When they went off to rest and Larghos and I sat alone, at last, I asked about the immaculate state of the Vallian Embassy in Oxonium.

  He smiled. “Sana Ling-Li-Lwingling was here about our business when the shocks began. She recognized sorcery at once and was able, therefore, to counteract the effects here.”

  “That confounded Wizard of Loh of Khon the Mak's.”

  “Precisely. Interestingly, you will remember Hyr Kov Brannomar's sister, Sana Besti—”

  “I'm hardly likely to forget,” I said, thinking of that nightmare ride through other dimensions.

  “Quite. She managed to save most of Brannomar's palace.”

  He went on to say that as a result of the sorcerer Gron-Arm-Chenlang's thaumaturgical upheavals at the orders of Khon the Mak, Prince Ortyg's palace had erupted like a volcano. The prince had barely escaped with his life. He had left the city at once. Princess Nandisha and her people had also left. Many, many citizens had fled. The only great ones left were Tom and Brannomar.

  Well, by Zair, I said to myself, thank Opaz the numims are safe. But why hadn't the Star Lords sent me with them?

  “The fury at Khon the Mak from everyone was quite remarkable. He had to fly for his life. Everything has changed in Oxonium.”

  After he had given me information to fill out the details, I said: “Well, the murders have been pushed into the background. I must still go and see Brannomar. I want the hunt called off.”

  “I saw him and he assured me he did not believe you were the mass murderer. But—well, the proof seemed pretty damning to everyone and the City Guard were determined to pull you in.”

  “Bad cess to ‘em.”

  After that it was a matter of having my clothes washed and ironed as I slept, of eating a massive breakfast, of telling Dimpy and Big Balla to stay in the embassy and keep out of mischief, and being chauffeured by Nalgre to Brannomar's palace.

  Dimpy, of course, wanted to go to the Temple of Cymbaro. The cable cars were down so I asked Nalgre to take Dimpy when he got back. I wouldn't put it past the young scamp to persuade Nalgre to take him all the way to Farinsee. He was really missing Tiri.

  Now this may sound farcically out of proportion in a normal man's perception of importances. But, by the Blade of Kurin! To me, plain Dray Prescot, Vovedeer, Lord of Strombor and Krozair of Zy, swordsman, the feel of the great Krozair longsword handed to me by the ambassador felt like—felt like—well, by Zim-Zair! I felt that perhaps now I might fight in the old wild Dray Prescot way without having blades snapping left and right under my blows.

  As we fl
ew over the city Oxonium presented a wretched sight. The fires were out but smoke still hung sootily here and there. I experienced a vivid flash of recollection of the time Delia and I flew out of the blazing pyre of Vondium the proud city. Still, we'd rebuilt. I did not doubt that the Tolindrinese would rebuild too.

  They were digging out dead bodies. Rubble was carried away by the cartload. Provisions of all kinds were coming in, for the country folk had rallied to help the city dwellers. We swooped across Grand Central. The cable car between the king's and Brannomar's palaces was down. Both structures, apart from the loss of a tower or two, looked intact. Nalgre brought us down onto a lawn where the fountain stood dry and the garden walls lay strewn across the flower beds. At the moment no one was about.

  Nalgre shouted down the remberee and took off. The landing of the voller would not have gone unnoticed and guards would be along at any moment. I had my story ready and had no doubts of seeing Brannomar quite easily.

  Ahead stood a lenken door adorned with bronze chavonths. I pushed it open and went through. The entrance hall was wide, flanked by black marble pillars. Black beams stretched across supporting the ceiling. The floor was a blinding white. I started off striding along. A faint trace of jasmine perfumed the air. The silence was profound. This entrance hall was hugely impressive and it went on and on. All this, I marveled, inside a hilltop palace!

  Eventually in the lamplights shining between the pillars a door showed up at the far end. Golden animals of mythological significance that escaped me writhed upon the ebon surface.

  Beyond that door the silence struck ominously. There was absolutely no one about, not a living soul to greet or challenge me.

  The room was octagonal, draped in crimson, lit by golden lamps. Gilded furniture stood here and there on the faerling carpet.

  I knew what this was all about in the instant before the ghostly voice with the edge of steel rustled in the air all about.

  “Come in, Dray Prescot. Sit down. There are refreshments and wine.” I looked at the wine bottle regretfully. It was a top quality Jholaix.