‘Why shouldn’t we run?’ Jaix asked.

‘Because then there’s a chance you could stray into an egg’s lure and be drawn to it.’ All he could think of was Trooper Andricea staring at the last egg they’d found, filthy from days on the sweep, determined never to succumb to the egg’s bewitchment, then swinging the axe furiously when it was her turn. So very different to these two refined daughters of the aristocracy, who probably didn’t even know how to boil water on a cooker.

‘But don’t you gals worry,’ Arnice said. ‘There hasn’t been a Fall on the city for seven hundred years. And there’ve only been three since the landing.’

‘What about a nest bringing eggs inside the city?’ Lanicia asked apprehensively.

‘The sheriffs remain vigilant for any signs of nest activity. There is none in Varlan, believe me.’

Slvasta held his tongue. There were always rumours of nests established in cities and towns, preying on the poor and friendless, people that no sheriff would care about. In some cases, like Rakwesh Province, he knew it was a lot more than rumour. Reports from local regiments that crossed his desk were full of ‘disappeared’ people the sheriffs had compiled.

‘So do your family have an estate in Cham county?’ Jaix asked.

‘I gave the land up so I could serve in the regiment,’ Slvasta said. ‘I intend to spend my life fighting the Fallers.’ He hated replying in such a fashion – a vague truth that didn’t actually answer the question. It was another unwelcome trait he’d come to adopt in the city. But, as Arnice constantly reminded him, if you were going to accomplish anything in Varlan, you had to be accepted by the aristocracy. And the greatest barrier to that was being poor. As a serving officer with a position on the Joint Council, he could bypass that requirement to some degree – except probably marriage.

‘That’s so noble,’ she said in admiration.

Arnice gave him a quick ironic smile as the bottle of Bascullé arrived. They toasted the day.

‘To Guidance.’

‘And Fulfilment.’

Slvasta would rather have had a decent beer, but sipped the champagne anyway, conceding to himself that it was actually rather nice. Sometimes he wondered if it was only his own prejudices which were holding him back.

‘Oh, look, the boats are setting out,’ Jaix said.

From the quayside, thousands of pyre boats were casting off, pushed out into the fast flow of water by teekay from teary relatives. They varied from large and expensive craft with high pyre platforms where those who were seeking Guidance waited on their comfortable beds, down to simple rafts with their owners sitting atop a pile of firewood.

Captain Philious stood at the front of the pavilion and waved graciously to the departing boats, smiling widely. The city’s harbour-master boats were trying to steer the irregular flotilla out away from the quays and slipways. There hadn’t been a blowback fire for over nine hundred years, and the city authorities were keen to keep that record going.

As the four of them sipped their champagne, the boats moved out and the current started to carry them downstream. Nonetheless, they maintained a loose formation, with few stragglers.

‘How many?’ Lanicia asked.

‘The mayor’s office estimated about seventeen thousand people,’ Arnice said. ‘They come in from eight counties, after all.’

Slvasta sent his ex-sight slipping over his pocketwatch. The Skylord was due in another three minutes. The sound of the waterside crowd waving and cheering was audible even on the balcony.

‘Do you think it will come?’ Jaix said.

‘The Watcher Guild reported five approaching,’ Slvasta said. ‘Their calculations are usually accurate.’

‘So how come they can never be as accurate about the eggs?’ Lanicia asked.

‘You’re talking about two very different objects to spot in space,’ Slvasta replied. ‘The Skylords are vast and glow. They are easy to see at night, especially with the large multi-mirror telescopes the guild uses at its primary observatories. But the eggs, now they’re as black as the space between the nebulas. The only way we can have any advanced warning is if they’re spotted transiting during the daytime, and for that you have to have keen eyes and get very lucky. Usually, we only get advance warning for about one Fall in five; otherwise all the guild sees is the descent contrail through the atmosphere – and we only get that if there aren’t too many clouds.’

‘I thought you couldn’t see space during the day,’ Lanicia said.

‘It’s the sun which is the problem,’ Slvasta said. ‘The Forest is directly between us and the sun. And you absolutely cannot look at the sun through a telescope; you’ll burn your eyes out in a fraction of a second.’

‘Then how do they see the eggs approaching?’

‘Filters and a giant screen,’ Slvasta said, remembering his trip to the guild’s Polulor Observatory. ‘The telescope is rigged to shine the magnified image of the Forest onto a giant screen, and I do mean giant. It’s a white wall probably half the size of this building.’

‘What did they look like, the trees?’ Lanicia asked.

‘Smudges, really,’ Slvasta admitted. ‘To me, anyway. A trained Guild observer interprets them a lot better. And they’re the people who detect the eggs falling from the Forest. I was told they’re like grains of sand, a fleck of darkness which shoots across the screen so fast that if you blink you miss it. That’s why they always have a minimum of five observers watching at all times.’

‘That’s fascinating,’ Lanicia said, staring at him over the top of her champagne glass. ‘I’d love to see the projection of the Forest.’

‘Ah, well, you’re in luck there,’ Arnice said cheerfully. ‘Slvasta can arrange a tour of an observatory for you; he has the authority.’

Which was utter crud, but Slvasta resisted glaring at Arnice. He didn’t mind the occasional blind date, but being set up like this . . .

‘It’s here,’ Jaix said quietly.

Like everyone on the balcony, the four of them stood up to watch. The first of the Skylords rose out of the north-eastern horizon. A vast ovoid of crystal sheets folded in amongst themselves in the most extraordinary warped geometry. Slivers of pastel light glimmered within the massive curving furrows, slithering and sliding about as if they were alive. Under Bienvenido’s dazzling sun they should have been washed out, yet they perversely maintained their intensity.

As always when one of the mighty creatures appeared, silence fell across the city as its true size became apparent. The leading edge of its giant shadow rippled across the land and river below as it blocked out more and more of the sky. Birds warbled in distress as they flapped frantically, trying to outrun the impossible umbra. Tufts of strato-cumulus were torn apart by the wind roaring out in all directions as the Skylord ploughed through the air.

Down amid the flotilla of pyre ships, those seeking Guidance sent their last ’path goodbyes to everyone watching from the city. Captain Philious raised both arms beatifically, wishing his subjects a successful Guidance, looking for all the world as if he personally had conjured the Skylord into existence. Before him, the would-be astral travellers crushed their little capsule of etire juice and swallowed the sickly fluid. Within seconds, the toxin had stopped their hearts. As their bodies died, they used teekay one last time to start whatever method of ignition was on board. Flames began to lick at the pyres as the Skylord swooped low overhead, as if the flames could help propel the departing souls upwards.

It took a particularly sensitive ex-sight to perceive souls as they departed their physical body. Slvasta had never even come close to sensing such a delicate essence. Today he didn’t have to. Today, those with the greatest ex-sight ability were standing along the city’s waterfront, minds open to share their gifted perception with everybody.