Hand of the King's Evil - Outremer 04 (18 page)

And was still looking, still squinting into shifting shadows when all thoughts of the djinni were driven from her head by a sudden, bewildering noise. A high-pitched squealing, so high that it was almost painful; she couldn't place it except that it came from above, it seemed to come from
every upper corner of the roofs
pace, every angle of beam and wall simultaneously.

And then it moved, it fell down towards her like a black blanket of unbearable sound. Towards her and towards everyone, all at once; she wrenched her gaze away for a moment and saw how all the men were staring up, transfixed and terrified. Some were crouching under the weight of it, grovelling almost on the floor, setting their voices against the noise in a rising prayer of desperation.

Her eyes were drawn inexorably back to the swirling darkness overhead. The living darkness - there were voices in that numbing scream, there was a pattern to the movement. She pushed her hood back to see better, then remembered the death-shriek of 'ifrit a
nd abruptl
y moved herself, out from behind the sheltering screen, towards the poor protection of her knives where they lay before the altar. Jemel was stooping, she saw, to snatch up his own blade;
good
she thought,
but you leave mine for me. . .

For what little good they would do, against a strike by however many lurking monsters there were, enough to raise such a cry.
..

She turned her head upward again, looking for 'ifrit. Something hurtled at her, and she ducked instinctively; it skimmed above her hair, leaving a brief impression of gaping jaws, teeth, a red gullet — but small, so small, mouse-sized, no threat at all.

She gaped in her turn, stared after it, stared up; and turned to scuttle back behind the screen again, choking down a churn of painful laughter in her gut. All of them, she wanted to laugh at them all, herself and those cowering priests with their abandoned self-regard and Jemel who stood so proud and warrior-like among them, gazing about him now in bafflement that was only slowly turning to understanding, to catching up with her.

They deserved all the laughter that she had, all the mockery she could raise. So many of them and so pleased with themselves they'd been, until a shriek and a shadow had punctured their overweening pomposity.

Bats whirled and circled among them now in hundreds, thousands maybe, enough to fill the air and block the light as though the mass of their dark bodies cast its own darkness like a net about them.

Bats, and nothing worse. Bats that must sleep the day out among the beams and rafters overhead, clustering together like kittens for warmth and safety; bats that had been suddenly disturbed and so erupted in alarm, all of them together like a flight of birds, startled and stupid and beating round and round the narrow compass of the temple rather than brave the sun's glare outside
...

Bats that had been suddenly disturbed—
and here was Esren back as unexpectedly as it had disappeared, silent at her shoulder and somehow smug in its silence, she thought, exactly as a capricious creature might be that had made so much mischief in a moment.

'That was you,' she said,
without a hint of a question in
it.

'I did nothing.' 'Liar.'

'The djinn do not lie, Elisande.'

She ducked another flight, a skirmish-party that had found its way behind the screen — to its great regret, judging by the way it screamed and veered wildly as it passed close to the
djinni — and sighed extravagantl
y. 'Tell me whether you went up into the roofspace.' 'I did.'

'Tell me why' 'I was curious.'

'You knew that the bats were there.'

'Yes. I could sense them sleeping.'

'And you knew that your presence would wake them, and that they would be terrified by your presence as any animal is, and so you went up to see what would happen.'

'As I said, I was curious.'

'It is not amusing, Esren,' in her sternest voice, 'to use fear to satisfy curiosity.'

'It is interesting, though. The bats are frightened by me, which is perhaps appropriate, although I mean them no harm; these men it seems are frightened by the bats, which is absurd.'

'Not truly frightened,' she said, struggling to defend her kind against the facts, 'only startled and alarmed.'

'I do not see the difference. They shrieked, they prayed for protection; listen, they are praying yet, against whatever evil spirit they believe has raised the bats.'

They were; and actually it was amusing, although she refused to say so. They were right, after all, by their own lights — except that no Catari priest would claim that the djinn were evil. She wished briefly that she could take Esren's experiment further, to find what would scare a spirit.

Instead she stepped out from behind the screen and gestured across the temple floor. Jemel seemed to be looking for that ex
actl
y, her appearance, her impatience. He gave her a cautious, distracted wave amid the confusion of men and animals, shrieks and prayers. Even he wasn't immune to the mood, though he had sheathed his scimitar by now. He stooped to scoop up her knives from where they lay, blessed now and she hoped more potent than they had been before — and he stayed stooped, walking all but doubled over as he came towards her. He might want her to think that it was the pain of suppressed laughter that folded him so, but she could see how his eyes were alert, how his head jerked whenever he saw or thought he saw a stray bat or a school of bats coming gape-jawed towards him. Their own swerving always came late, at the last possible moment; so many flying so fast, and yet not one had struck a beam or a man, a hanging lantern-chain or even another bat, so far as she could tell. The dense clouds whirled and circled, split apart and melted together again as seamlessly as their individual voices knitted together to make that one endless, penetrating scream.

Knowing was no substitute for instinct, though, and never had been. It would take a brave man or a blind one -blind and deaf - to walk through the maelstrom and not to flinch. More than brave, perhaps: Jemel had courage to spare, and was almost crawling under the intangible weight of those packed and circling bodies above.

And what of a girl, could she be braver? Or more deliberately blind, perhaps? Elisande eyed the way to the door, and thought about walking with her eyes closed. There were too many obstacles, though, too many men scuttling to the sun's shielding glare like crabs to the shelter of a rock. Or like 'ifrit, she thought, remembering the clawed black shapes scurrying up out of the water. Then, inevitably, she remembered Julianne, trapped under an 'ifrit's red gaze; and strode determinedly towards the bright summoning of the doorway, pulling her veil straight as she went and feeling glad almost for the first time in her life that she was so short. She could feel her headdress stirred by the wind from the bats' wings, she knew there was a living ceiling of them barely a hand's span above her; but if she kept her eyes down she couldn't see them, and if she just kept her feet moving she might not need to think how close they were, she didn't at all have to imagine how it would feel to get just one tangled in her clothing
...

Then a small flight of them came swooping low, heading straight for her. She bit back a shriek, though it felt like swallowing a pebble, hard and painful in her throat; and that took all the will she had, she couldn't keep from ducking and twisting aside. Twisting into their own path, indeed, as they yawed, so that they had to turn swiftly, violently in mid-air to avoid her. The breeze they made in their passing pressed through her veil, bringing with it the rankness of their breath, the musty smell of their fur; one glimpse of yellow incisors and vivid throats and she did close her eyes after all, telling herself how small they were and how harmless to her, chanting it under her breath like a mantra against the way the image filled her mind.

She was still standing, still bent over like an old woman or an older tree, when she felt a hand grip her arm. Chanced a glance aside, and saw Jemel - of course Jemel, who else would touch her? Here?

He was standing tall now, despite the blurring darkness all about his head; she could see the effort he made to keep his eyes on her, and not let them go darting after the bats as they flashed in and out of his sight. She gave him a mirthless grin he wouldn't see —
be brave then, now, when you know that I'm watching too late, but you needn't know that-
and let him urge her back into movement, towards the illusion of safety and away from the illusion of risk.

Head down and feet hurrying, her free arm coming up despite herself in a useless ward: at last they broke into sunshine and she could straighten up, draw a deep recovering breath — her first for a while, or so it seemed — and look up at the Sharai to see him blushing darkly, with an embarrassed grin.

Her own face would match his, she knew. The veil might hide that, if it didn't catch fire simply from the glow of her skin, which could outburn the sun; it couldn't hide the tremble in her arm where he was still holding
it. She tossed her head defiantl
y against the world - or against her own malignant djinni, that could so humiliate her with a little casual curiosity — and said, 'Give me my knives, then.'

'Not here.' His own head moved more purposefully, to indicate the swarm of men who filled the square around them, who couldn't help but see the exchange however much their eyes might still be full of swarming bats. Men didn't yield weapons up to women; these m
en might not challenge it directl
y, but they would certainly remember, and likely talk. Elisande wasn't sure that secrecy mattered, but it was a good habit to fall back on.

So she followed Jemel meekly enough, away from the temple and its open square, into the tight tangle of alleyways that surrounded it. As soon as they were private, in a shadowy angle that was overlooked by no windows, he handed her knives across. She hoped to feel some tingle in the metal to say that they'd been changed, perhaps to see a new shimmer on the edge to show where power ran, and was disappointed; they seemed the same as before, sharp and finely balanced, nothing more. She knew that they were dangerous to mortal flesh, but whether they could hack or skewer the chitin of an 'ifrit - to learn that, she'd have to get closer than she liked, closer than she'd been yet.

Which must mean doing without Jemel's company or the djinni's, going alone against the world, the way she'd always liked to. She sheathed the knives invisibly within her robe, and gave him a respectful bow that was less mocking than it might have looked, than he might have thought it. 'Thank you, Jemel. Will you go back now, to seek Marron?'

She was out of practice at asking questions, which was curious in one who had always been more curious than was good for her. Even to her own ears, that sounded more like a command, the rising inflection at the end only a meaningless courtesy.

He might have been angry, indignant, resentful, and was none of those. He couldn't have failed to recognise the dismissal, but neither did he go. He stood before her, smiling as he said, 'Will you go to seek Coren?'

'I - no. Not, not yet. I thought I might wander the town a little, learn its ways
...'

'As you did yesterday and the day before, as we have all done since we came here? Or did you think that today perhaps you might go a little further, outside the walls - up to the castle, say, a nice distance for a day's exploring
..
. ?'

She was blushing again, and sure that he knew it again. She was becoming distressingly easy to read, or else simply too dangerously close to these few friends, who were stealing all her secrets from her one by one.

'Well then, yes,' she said. 'Yes, up to the
castle
, why not? The gate is open, we know that; the 'ifrit watches Julianne, we know that; There's only Morakh left, then, and he
can't watch everywhere at once
'

'The gate is open, and the trap is baited; will you walk inside?'

'The trap is baited for Coren, surely, not for me.'

'We don't know that, it's a guess. Besides, a rat-trap may catch a mouse as easily. Morakh can't watch everywhere, but he can watch the gate; there's only one.'

'So I'll climb the wall.'

'And if you climb the wall and meet another Dancer, what then? Morakh may not be alone in there any longer.'

'Esren says that he is, and the djinn do not lie.'

'No, but they can be mistaken. They are dangerous creatures to put your faith in, Elisande.'

'True; but I am a dangerous creature too. More so, now,' touching the hafts of her daggers. 'I am going, Jemel. Esren will not, nor will Coren, nor Marron; they are all afraid of the 'ifrit. With reason, perhaps, but their reasons don't apply to me. Julianne can't help herself, so one of us must help her.'

'Two of us,' he said flady. 'If you go, I am coming with you.'

'
Marron
will be angry with you.'

'He would be more angry, if I let you go alone.'

That might be true. What was certain was that she was afraid, even without her companions' reasons. Her knives might be blessed, but they were still pitifully small weapons to set against a Sand Dancer and a spirit-monster. She hadn't looked for support from Jemel, hadn't dared to hope for it; to have it offered unexpectedly was a gift, a blessing in itself.