TWELVE

Tylus was beginning to wonder if he was really cut out for command. Oh, he appreciated the Prime Master's faith in him and still believed passionately in the Kite Guard School and all that it could achieve, but standing before a group of officers freshly arrived in the City Below and sharing the benefit of his experiences was one thing, leading a party of disparate components into the heart of the unknown Stain quite another. While Kat had stood beside him the responsibility was at least shared, but since she'd disappeared he felt that this was very much his expedition, for all that M'gruth was nominally standing in as her deputy. Which meant that if everything went horribly wrong, it would all be down to him.

Not that he was about to show his doubts, especially not in front of Issie. He concentrated on appearing calm, wise and totally in command, and was grateful that she didn't seem to question the performance, presumably accepting this as the norm. For her part, the arkademic had spoken little since their journey resumed, clasping the wrecked mechanism in one hand and focusing intently on it as if able to fathom its deepest purpose. Presumably this helped her to trace its source. She now walked at the front of the party, surrounded by her knot of dark sentinels, speaking only to provide him with occasional and invariably terse updates.

Their group was somewhat reduced. After consulting with M'gruth, Tylus had agreed that they couldn't continue with one of the Tattooed Men unconscious and an exhausted Thaistess in their midst, and they certainly couldn't leave the two unattended in the Stain. Sergeant Whitmore and his surviving officers had lifted Mildra and Petter aerially back to the more clement environs of the streets, utilising the new hammock-like slings the Kite Guards were equipped with, each passenger suspended between two officers. Petter, of course, was oblivious, but Tylus was impressed by how little fuss the Thaistess made in the face of what must have been a fairly daunting prospect. Despite the passenger being strapped into the sling, comfort and safety still relied on some skilful and synchronised flying by the two officers supporting them. The straps of the sling had to be kept taut, and that required some precision flying. Tylus wouldn't have fancied trying it.

After the stress of the journey – the need to remain constantly alert and the series of small incidents that had dogged their progress, not to mention the vanquishing of the Soul Thief – the Tattooed Men had been glad of a break while they waited for the Kite Guards to return, as had Tylus and, he suspected, Issie. It gave them all a chance to catch their breath, to sip from canteens and munch on provisions. The Blade, as usual, stayed aloof.

The respite had been short lived, with Whitmore and a single officer soon returning – the other two men having stayed behind to guard and see to the needs of the Thaistess and her patient. As soon as the pair touched down the group set off once more, in search of the mysterious Insint.

Progress was steady; they were mercifully unhindered by any of the Stain's denizens. They might almost have been moving through a genuinely lifeless wasteland, although the experiences of the morning had shown otherwise. The only indication that they weren't alone came when a distant baying reached them, coming from the direction of the wall and the dark chamber that Tylus knew lay beyond. The Kite Guard looked to M'gruth for some explanation of the sound.

"Demon hounds," the Tattooed Man supplied. At Tylus's blank look he went on, "Dogs the size of a big ox and just as powerful. Vicious breckers, too. They've been known to raid the streets from time to time for food. You'll know if they've caught our scent; there'll be a lot more howling and it'll get nearer faster than you'd believe."

The river at this point had gained the "Yellow" epithet due to the high levels of pollution and effluence its waters carried by the time they passed through the Stain. As far as Tylus could see the water wasn't actually yellow, the name intended as reference to the amount of urine it was said to contain, or so he'd been told.

They were getting very near the Thair now. Ahead of them, a lone blood heron took off from the bank, scalding them for the disturbance. Tylus always found the ungainly way these birds launched into flight comical, as their long necks strained forward and back, almost as if grasping the air in front of them in an attempt to pull their heavy bodies skyward. Only once their wings settled into a regular rhythm did the neck straighten and the bird adopt a more dignified dart-like shape.

Tylus looked in the direction the Tattooed Man indicated, to see a swarm of oversized bugs coming towards them from the direction of the Thair. Something about them didn't look quite right. Their flight was too direct, too purposeful, and the way the light from distant sun globes winked off their carapaces here and there suggested they might even be somehow metallic.

Tylus took a few hurried steps forward and sprang into the air, spreading his arms as he did so. Immediately he felt the familiar sense of lightness, and his feet lifted from the ground as if that solid surface had somehow slipped from under them. In the corner of his eye he saw Whitmore and the other remaining Kite Guard follow suit.

They didn't have much time, with the small swarm closing fast. Tylus climbed as steeply as he could, trying to get above them. Down below, others were reacting. He heard M'gruth shout for Ox to ready the flamethrower, and four of the Blade strode forward to meet the metallic insects, which Tylus suspected were the same as the crushed mechanism he'd recovered from the site of the sun globe disaster, the one that Issie clutched even now.

A pair of the metal beetles detached from the main group and started to climb to intercept the three Kite Guards. Terrific. Tylus had been intending to try out the other new weapon – aside from the bombs – that the arkademics had supplied them with, but using it against individual bugs was going to take a lot more accuracy than aiming for a swarm.

The problem with using any sort of weapon while flying was that in order to stay aloft you had to keep your arms out and the cape stretched taut between limbs and body. The moment you started waving your hands about doing something else, such as firing a weapon, you lost control and risked to plummeting straight down to a hard landing. Tylus had no idea why this was the case given that the supposed science behind the capes was decidedly suspect to say the least, but it was. This meant that the choice of weapons for a Kite Guard was limited and use of even their traditional equipment such as puncheons and net guns while on the wing took a lot of practice and involved an element of risk. So the arkademics had come up with something new especially for this outing, a weapon that didn't require the bending of the elbow or manoeuvring of the arm.

As Tylus saw the two metal bugs climbing towards him he stopped trying to gain altitude, levelling out and then banking, dipping his left shoulder, swivelling so that his right arm was above. He brought his left arm down slightly so that it projected straight out from the shoulder, and then gazed intently along it, using its length to aim by. As the nearest bug came into sight he balled his fist. A beam of pale, bright blue light shot from a small nozzle mounted on his wrist. Breck! He'd missed the bug by a fraction and the thing was closing fast. Resisting the temptation to panic, he shifted the arm downwards slightly, and the blue beam licked against the bubble of metal, which was now no more than a couple of arms' lengths away.

The instinctive adjustment almost spelled disaster, as in bringing his left arm down Tylus' right arm automatically went up and he started to roll. He quickly corrected but in the process lost sight of the bug. He had visions of the thing still coming straight at him and tensed, expecting to feel metal latch onto his leg at any moment and inflict who knew what damage; but then he saw the thing dropping back towards the ground, a wisp of smoke trailing behind it. In fact, both the bugs that had been arrowing in to intercept them were now heading groundward. Whitmore had evidently dealt with the second. Realisation struck home. The arkademics' weapon actually worked!

Tylus had no idea what the blue light was supposed to do, but he knew it was something the arkademics had developed after studying the crushed mechanism he'd recovered. He'd been assured that it would prove effective against similar technology, but such assurances were easily given by folk sitting comfortably back in the Heights. This was the first time the weapon's effectiveness had actually been put to the test. Thankfully, it seemed to have passed with flying colours.

Tylus was almost disappointed to see the main group of metallic bugs – a dozen or more – flare briefly and brightly as they drew close to the four Blade. He had no idea what the Blade were doing to them but it was as if the bugs hit some invisible barrier a few steps ahead of the four ebony figures. The bugs died in a ripple of tiny flashes and then dropped to the ground, depriving the Kite Guards of the opportunity to try out their new weapon on a larger group of targets.

With the immediate danger averted, Tylus flew on to the river, hoping to gain some clue as to where the metallic bugs had come from. He scoured the bank and the terrain between the group and the water but there was nothing to see. He came back and touched down, leaving the other two Guards aloft to watch for any further threat. The bugs had surely been no more than an opening salvo.

Following M'gruth's comment about hoping their quarry wasn't aquatic and the direction the bugs had come from, Tylus fell into the trap of assuming their enemy lurked somewhere in the depths of the Thair. As they reached the banks of the river – still a considerable waterway even if diminished from the great river that flowed into the under-City – he found himself scanning the water, searching for a hint of something breaking the surface. So the attack, when it came, took him by surprise, though it shouldn't have done. After all, it was hardly the first time this trip they'd been ambushed from beneath their feet.

The thing that surged out of the ground almost at the tips of the Blade's toes was very different from the scorpion/snake/human hybrid that had attacked them before. That one had looked to be a hotchpotch of parts harvested from various creatures, stuck together if not at random then certainly with little thought of aesthetics. This one had far more the appearance of a complete, planned entity; though whether the entity was organic or mechanical was more difficult to determine. Tylus had the impression, though, that this might once have been human, that machine parts had somehow been grafted onto and into a human body to create an obscene fusion of the two. It was bigger than the previous creature; broader, more powerful and less sinuous.

As soon as it appeared, the creature – presumably this Insint they were hunting – leapt upon the nearest Blade, grasping the black figure in metallic claws; and then it seemed to fall apart. No, nothing so dramatic, Tylus realised. The legs that gripped the Blade detached, or rather the part of the thing's body they belonged to did, leaving behind a spindly mechanism vaguely similar to the Maker's creations that had subverted the street-nicks so effectively, but bigger, much bigger. Nor was it alone. An identical contraption broke away from Insint's other side and latched on to a second of the Blade. It occurred to Tylus that these may perhaps have been the templates for the Maker's smaller mechanisms.

Everything was happening at once. Tylus had the impression of a broad back, metallic but resembling a beetle's carapace. It might have been gleaming and bright once, but was now tarnished and scratched, and it even showed a hint of rust at the edges. This creature was old, an impression only emphasised by a series of indentations that ran down the thing's back like symmetrical pockmarks. From some of these rose more of the small beetle-like mechanisms that had attacked them before – no more than half a dozen this time. The bugs sped straight towards the Tattooed Men who, reacting far more quickly than Tylus had even thought to, were advancing on the scene, coming to help the Blade.

Belatedly, Tylus remembered himself, spread his arms and took to the air, hoping to use the arkademics' weapons as they were intended, against Insint. Behind him, the other two Kite Guards did the same. Only as he took to the wing did he see four great forms rushing towards the party from behind. "Look out!" he yelled, just as the pack of demon hounds smashed into the ranks of the Tattooed Men. Tylus watched as two of the men went down, disappearing beneath impossibly huge canine forms. Another screamed as slavering jaws crashed together, tearing away an arm amidst jagged white bone and flying blood.

Insint was in constant motion, its movements surprisingly quick for a creature so large. The two detached elements of the creature were wreaking damage. The first Blade attacked had collapsed to the ground, the spidery mech poised above, its legs puncturing the Blade's tough hide. Energy crackled between and around them. The second Blade remained on his feet, arms clenched around the main body of the mech, holding it at bay while some of the spear-tipped legs latched onto the Blade's torso and others scrabbled for purchase. Again bolts of energy surged between them but it was unclear who had the upper hand; they had evidently fought their way to an aggressive stalemate.

The central part of the mechanism, or creature, or whatever it was, kept low to the ground. Despite losing spidery legs on either side of its body Insint remained highly mobile, using the disconcertingly human-looking hands of its foremost limbs to grip the ground and help manoeuvre. Other than those hands, the most human feature was its face. Embedded in metal, surrounded by corrugated tubes and odd receptors, the features were still unmistakeably human; nor was that face blank and inflexible as the earlier creature's had been. When appropriate, Insint grimaced with effort and his brow furrowed in concentration. Such emotions, so much in evidence, were what gave the impression that this was a person in an outlandish, oversized suit rather than a cunningly contrived construct. Tylus wasn't about to let that sway him though. He sighted along his arm and squeezed his fist, but Insint was gone, and the blue light played harmlessly across the ground. Cursing, Tylus relaxed his hand, banked, and prepared to come in for another pass, but the creature kept moving unpredictably, dodging ordnance thrown at it by the Blade. An ebony lance narrowly missed skewering him and then he twisted away from a black beam that struck the ground with explosive force, throwing up a cloud of debris, detritus and smoke, forcing Tylus to swerve sharply or risk being engulfed.

Peripheral images crowded in on Tylus as he persisted with trying to get a clear shot. He saw one of the Blade blast the spidery mech from its stricken colleague, glimpsed one of the demon hounds go down in a tangle of netting fired by a Kite Guard while another yelped as its back legs were hamstrung and Tattooed Men darted in for the kill. He watched as Insint squirted a stream of liquid at one of the Blade that had come too close. Whatever it was smoked on contact – acid, perhaps? Still the infuriating creature wouldn't stay still or even perform a predictable movement. A master of evasion, no doubt about that.

He needed to be. The two spidery mechs lay smoking and broken. The Blade were driving Insint back, hemming him in. One of their number lay unmoving while another stayed close to Issie, but the remaining four Blade were working in concert, steadily squeezing the space the creature had to manoeuvre in. They attacked and closed, Insint defended, dodged, and occasionally fought back, but his options were increasingly limited. Tylus seized his chance. Dipping his arm and banking, he triggered the blue light and watched it strike the stretched and augmented human-mech hybrid squarely on its dimpled carapace.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. Insint screamed. Tylus had no idea what eldritch properties the arkademics had instilled within this pale blue luminance, but its touch clearly brought agony to the creature, having far more effect than anything the Blade had thrown at him. The ebony warriors didn't hang around to watch, though. As Insint writhed in the blue glare a spear slammed into his body, perhaps below the carapace – difficult for Tylus to see while on the wing, but it lodged there – while black energy licked at his back quarters, producing a cloud of acrid smoke as the metal seemed to blister and wither.

Insint clearly decided that enough was enough. Voicing a wail of frustration and pain, the beetle-like body sprung into the air, heading towards the river. Tylus wasn't sure if this was a huge leap or a glide – though the creature had no wings – but before he or anyone else could catch him, Insint had dived into the water, disappearing beneath the surface. The Blade were in close pursuit, two of them plunging in after the creature. Tylus flew over the patch of water where Insint had disappeared, but he could see nothing in the murky depths. He landed on the bank, where the other two Blade had stopped short, and was soon joined by his fellow Kite Guards. It wasn't long before Issie and even the Tattooed Men came across as well, the demon hounds evidently having been driven off or killed. Tylus made a quick head count. Besides M'gruth, he made it six of the former Pits warriors still standing. They'd be leaving a few more comrades behind for the Stain's scavengers, it seemed.

No one spoke. The whole group of them simply stood and waited, all eyes fixed on the water. For long minutes there was nothing to see. The surface of the Thair remained calm, with no indication that two of the Blade and the creature responsible for so nearly destabilising the whole of the City Below had disappeared beneath it.

Then, as Tylus was contemplating taking to the air for another pass over the river in the hope of seeing something – anything – he felt a deep vibration, a rumbling that travelled up through the soles of his feet to spread throughout his body. Even as this registered, the bubble of an explosion arose in the centre of the Thair, a great dome of displaced water and energy that burst to disgorge a boom of sound and spray them all with water. Issie shied away and Tylus moved instinctively to step in front of her, to protect her, even though one of the Blade still hovered at her shoulder.

Morning had marched forth, chasing out that recurring usurper night to fully establish her dominion over the world by the time Dewar blinked into wakefulness. It was unusual for him to sleep so late, but then it had been an unusually active night. Memories of their energetic lovemaking chased through his mind: Seffy's soft kisses and expert hands, her long hair tickling his thighs, her firm and slender body pressed beneath his one moment and then writhing on top of him the next…

He reached out a hand, but aside from his own lethargic self, the bed was empty. He sat up sharply, to find the room likewise. The girl had gone, slipping away while he slept, which at least saved him from having to make one unsavoury decision. He couldn't pretend to be sorry.

Dewar sat up, rubbing his eyes, to see an empty bottle on the floor and a glass lying on its side close by. Red wine, a decent if over-priced Bexon rouge. Perhaps that explained the fragility of his head this morning. No, he hadn't drunk that much, and the wine certainly wasn't responsible for the bitter aftertaste lurking at the back of his palate. Valerion root! Doubtless mixed with something else for it to have been so effective. He didn't bother trying to discern what that might be, it didn't matter. Seffy had drugged him. Him. Realisation came as a shock. Did she routinely carry a sleeping potion with her or was this an impulse purchase made as a precaution during that late afternoon visit to the herbalist? Either way, it showed admirable resourcefulness and meant that he had severely underestimated her.

Concern chased hard on the heels of insight. He leapt from the bed and reached for his money belt, pulling it from the back of a chair where it lay buried beneath the rest of his clothes. Had she robbed him as well? The belt felt lighter than it ought to, but that might just be his concern colouring perception. At least it hadn't been emptied. He opened up the belt and poured the contents out, kneeling on the bed to count it. A quick calculation showed that all she'd taken was what he'd promised her plus a little more, presumably as payment for the night's frivolities.

Dewar sat back, looked at the money spread across the rumpled sheets and felt his shoulders tremble. He threw back his head and laughed. Clever girl, resourceful girl. She had surprised him, delighted him in truth, and very few people managed to do that. He couldn't begrudge her what she'd taken, not even the conveniently overlooked sum designated for buying the zyvan berry juice. She'd earned every copper.

If Seffy was as astute and resourceful as this suggested why had she cooperated in the first place? The danger must have been plain to her from the outset. Had it been out of curiosity, or perhaps for the thrill, even for the sex? Most likely a little of all those things, Dewar concluded.