Withal began to pray.
In Mael’s name.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
None had seen the like. Chorum’s Mill was a Marvel of invention. Wheels upon wheels, Granite and interlocking gears, axles and Spokes and rims of iron, a machine that climbed From that fast river three full levels and ground The finest flour Lether had ever seen – Some say it was the rain, the deluge that filled The water’s course through the mill’s stony toes. Some say it was the sheer complexity that was The cause of it all, the conceit of a mortal man’s Vision. Some say it was the Errant’s nudge, fickle And wayward that voiced the sudden roar that dawn, The explosions of stone and the shrieks of iron, And the vast wheels breaking free and bursting Through the thick walls, and the washing women Downstream the foam at their thighs looked up To see their granite doom rolling down – Not a wrinkle left, not a stain survived, and old Misker, perched on Ribble the Mule, well the mule Knew its place as it bolted and leapt head-first Down the well, but poor old Misker hugged the Draw pail on its rope and so swung clear, to Skin his knees on the round’s cobbles and swear Loud, the boisterous breath preceding the fateful Descent of toothy death the gear wheel, tall as any Man but far taller than Misker (even perched on His mule) and that would not be hard once it was Done with him, why the rat – oh, did I forget to Mention the rat?
STUMBLING IN THE GLOOM, THE DRUNK HAD FALLEN INTO THE CANAL. Tehol had mostly lost sight of him from his position at the edge of the roof, but he could hear splashing and curses, and the scrabbling against the rings set in the stone wall.
Sighing, Tehol glanced over at the nameless guard Brys had sent. Or one of them, at least. The three brothers looked pretty much identical, and none had given their names. Nothing outward or obvious to impress or inspire fear. And, by the unwavering cast of their lipless, eye-slitted expressions, sadly unqualified as welcome company.
‘Can your friends tell you apart?’ Tehol enquired, then frowned. ‘What a strange question to ask of a man. But you must be used to strange questions, since people will assume you were somewhere when you weren’t, or, rather, not you, but the other yous, each of whom could be anywhere. It now occurs to me that saying nothing is a fine method for dealing with such confusion, to which each of you have agreed to as the proper response, unless you are the same amongst yourselves, in which case it was a silent agreement. Always the best kind.’
The drunk, far below, was climbing from the canal, swearing in more languages than Tehol believed existed. ‘Will you listen to that? Atrocious. To hear such no doubt foul words uttered with such vehemence – hold on, that’s no drunk, that my manservant!’ Tehol waved and shouted, ‘Bugg! What are you doing down there? Is this what I pay you for?’
The sodden manservant was looking upward, and he yelled something back that Tehol could not make out. ‘What? What did you say?’
‘You – don’t – pay – me!’
‘Oh, tell everyone, why don’t you!’
Tehol watched as Bugg made his way to the bridge and crossed, then disappeared from view behind the nearby buildings. ‘How embarrassing. Time’s come for a serious talk with dear old Bugg.’
Sounds from below, more cursing. Then creaking from the ladder.
Bugg’s mud-smeared head and face rose into view.
‘Now,’ Tehol said, hands on hips, ‘I’m sure I sent you off to do something important, and what do you do? Go falling into the canal. Was that on the list of tasks? I think not.’
‘Are you berating me, master?’
‘Yes. What did you think?’
‘More effective, I believe, had you indeed sent me off to do something important. As it was, I was on a stroll, mesmerized by moonlight-’
‘Don’t step there! Back! Back!’
Alarmed, Bugg froze, then edged away.
‘You nearly crushed Ezgara! And could he have got out of the way? I think not!’ Tehol moved closer and knelt beside the insect making its slow way across the roof’s uneven surface. ‘Oh, look, you startled it!’
‘How can you tell?’ Bugg asked.
‘Well, it’s reversed direction, hasn’t it? That must be startling, I would imagine.’
‘You know, master, it was a curio – I didn’t think you would make it a pet.’
‘That’s because you’re devoid of sentiment, Bugg. Whereas Ezgara here is doubly-’
‘Ovoid?’
‘Charmingly so.’ Tehol glanced over at the guard, who was staring back at him as was his wont. ‘And this man agrees. Or, if not him, then his brothers. Why, one let Ezgara crawl all over his face, and he didn’t even blink!’
‘How did Ezgara manage to get onto his face, master?’
‘And down the other’s jerkin, not a flinch. These are warm-hearted men, Bugg, look well upon them and learn.’
‘I shall, master.’
‘Now, did you enjoy your swim?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘A misstep, you say?’
‘I thought I heard someone whisper my name-’
‘Shurq Elalle?’
‘No.’
‘Harlest Eberict? Kettle? Chief Investigator Rucket? Champion Ormly?’
‘No.’
‘Might you have been imagining things?’
‘Quite possibly. For example, I believe I am being followed by rats.’
‘You probably are, Bugg. Maybe one of them whispered your name.’
‘An unpleasant notion, master.’
‘Yes it is. Do you think it pleases me that my manservant consorts with rats?’
‘Would you rather go hungry?’ Bugg reached under his shirt.
‘You haven’t!’
‘No, it’s cat,’ he said, withdrawing a small, skinned, headless and pawless carcass. ‘Canal flavoured, alas.’
‘Another gift from Rucket?’
‘No, oddly enough. The canal.’
‘Ugh.’
‘Smells fresh enough-’
‘What’s that wire trailing from it?’
The manservant lifted the carcass higher, then took the dangling wire between two fingers and followed it back until it vanished in the flesh. He tugged, then grunted.
‘What?’ Tehol asked.
‘The wire leads to a large, barbed hook.’
‘Oh.’
‘And the wire’s snapped at this end – I thought something broke my fall.’ He tore a small sliver of meat from one of the cat’s legs, broke it in two, then placed one piece at each end of the insect named Ezgara. It settled to feed. ‘Anyway, a quick rinse and we’re ahead by two, if not three meals. Quite a run of fortune, master, of late.’
‘Yes,’ Tehol mused. ‘Now I’m nervous. So, have you any news to tell me?’
‘Do you realize, master, that Gerun Eberict would have had to kill on average between ten and fifteen people a day in order to achieve his annual dividend? How does he find the time to do anything else?’
‘Perhaps he’s recruited thugs sharing his insane appetites.’
‘Indeed. Anyway, Shurq has disappeared – both Harlest and Ublala are distraught-’
‘Why Harlest?’
‘He had only Ublala to whom he could show off his new fangs and talons, and Ublala was less than impressed, so much so that he pushed Harlest into the sarcophagus and sealed him in.’
‘Poor Harlest.’
‘He adjusted quickly enough,’ said Bugg, ‘and now contemplates his dramatic resurrection – whenever it occurs.’
‘Disturbing news about Shurq Elalle.’
‘Why?’
‘It means she didn’t change her mind. It means she’s going to break into the Tolls Repository. Perhaps even this very night.’
Bugg glanced over at the guard. ‘Master…’
‘Oops, that was careless, wasn’t it?’ He rose and walked over. ‘He hears all, it’s true. My friend, we can at least agree on one thing, can’t we?’
The eyes flickered as the man stared at Tehol.
‘Any thief attempting the Repository is as good as dead, right?’ He smiled, then swung back to face his manservant.
Bugg began removing his wet clothes. ‘I believe I’ve caught a chill.’