Deadhouse Landing

And Thyr, it appeared, was the best starting point for such researches. Unfortunately, Thyr was forbidden, as a tool of the meddling enchantress, the Queen of Dreams.

A knock brought his head up. He withdrew from his Warren, cleared his throat to wet it and answered, rather irritated, ‘Yes?’

A female acolyte spoke outside. ‘You are summoned to the side of Ithell.’

‘Very well.’ He rose, rubbed feeling back into his legs, and headed for the quarters of the high priest, Demidrek Ithell.

He found the door open. The smoke of burning fragrant wood and incense wafted out in thick tendrils and scarves, but could not overcome the far more powerful and clinging miasma of long rotten flesh. The outer chamber was crowded by the usual cadre of healers, Dragons Deck readers, and other such consulting prestidigitators, some from lands very distant indeed. These Tayschrenn considered little more than minor talents, if not outright charlatans. But they were a comfort to the Demidrek in his illness and dotage, and so he simply ignored their presence.

He moved to pass through to the inner audience chamber, but before he could do so a woman caught his sleeve, her long sharp nails penetrating the weave of his robes to clench his upper arm. ‘Tayschrenn, yes?’ she said in accented Talian.

He frowned down at the short, dark-haired woman. ‘Yes.’

‘We should discuss the enhancing potential of certain drugs in Warren exploration.’

I would rather have iron spikes driven into my eyes, woman. Or, more accurately, into yours. ‘Thank you – but I am awaited within.’

Leaning closer, she whispered, ‘The Invigilator also waits within, and there is something about him that troubles me. You have seen it too, yes?’

‘What is your name?’

‘Lady Batevari, from far Darujhistan.’

He removed her clawed hand. ‘Well, Lady. Your insights are interesting. Perhaps we could discuss them sometime in the future. Thank you.’

Her answering glare was ferocious. She tossed her head. ‘Or perhaps not – as I do not appreciate having my time or effort wasted.’

He offered a thin smile as he turned away, dismissing her. Ancient Ones! The lesser the skill, the greater the arrogance.

The bedchamber was even more crowded than the outer room, as all the Demidrek’s staff and assistants were gathered round his bed. A number had to shuffle aside to allow Tayschrenn to approach. On the opposite side stood the Invigilator, his bronzed, sweaty face floating in the murk like an oval mask.

One of the aides bent down to whisper in the Demidrek’s ear. It had been more than a month since Tayschrenn had last seen Ithell, and he was shocked by the man’s decline. He lay buried under the rich bedding. His arms resembled bones wrapped in parchment – the veins distended, a deep blue, near to black. The man’s head seemed already a fleshless skull, the cheeks withered and sunken, the eyes bruised dark pits.

One emaciated arm rose and beckoned Tayschrenn closer. Obediently, he leaned over the bed, though the churning stink of rotting flesh was a near physical barrier. ‘Tay,’ the Demidrek’s voice came as the barest of sour breaths, ‘this is Invigilator Tallow. He has been sent to oversee the transition.’ Tayschrenn inclined his head to the Invigilator. ‘You will offer him every assistance.’

Tayschrenn nodded. ‘Of course. But there will be no need. D’rek has more work for you, I am sure.’

Ithell’s lips pulled back in a wry smile that resembled a death’s rictus. He patted Tayschrenn’s arm, his hand a bundle of hot dry bones. The arm fell and an exhalation rippled the ancient’s chest, revealing the effort that just that small gesture took.

Tayschrenn straightened from what he was certain was a deathbed. The Invigilator, Tallow, gestured to the open door and he nodded in response. The two eased their way through the crush of gathered brothers and sisters come to pray for the Demidrek’s soul.

In the main room Tayschrenn was quite amused to see the Darujhistani seeress, Batevari, pull away from the Invigilator as if the man carried some plague. Tallow ignored the woman; he gestured Tayschrenn forward. The priest dipped his head in assent and preceded him out into the hall.

For a time the two walked side by side down the darkened stone tunnel, hands clasped at their backs. Once they had some measure of privacy, the Invigilator cleared his throat.

‘It is an honour to meet you, young Tayschrenn. Tales of your prowess and early accomplishments have reached even unto the synod.’

‘The honour is all mine, Invigilator.’

‘Ithill himself plucked you from the streets, I understand. Yes?’

‘Indeed.’

‘You grew up in the temple compound, then. A very strange upbringing for a child. I heard that your mastery of Telas exceeded the cult’s teachers before you were ten. Is this so?’

‘I have been self-directed in my studies for some time now.’