‘I will just have to be patient.’
Agent Lin shuffled backwards, never taking her eyes off the distant shadow that was the house, and lay back against Gull’s warm mid-section. The bat gave a faint trill of protest, then went back to sleep.
34
‘I am trying to help you.’
Nestled deep within the netherdark, Hestillion made herself small and pliant in an attempt to disguise her growing irritation. Ygseril’s dreaming mind was brighter than ever, a great diffuse cloud of light that hung over her as the tree-god’s branches once had, but his physical body remained inert – the grey bark did not grow warmer, no leaves grew, and most importantly, no sap flowed. She was no closer to understanding what had happened, and how it could be solved.
Why?
Ygseril had asked this before. No answer seemed sufficient.
‘Because you are the god of my people,’ she said evenly. ‘Without you, we are dying.’
Living things die. Matter is consumed. Other things grow.
‘Of course, my lord, but for an entire people to die? It is a tragedy.’
When the voice spoke again, the light was a little brighter. Any people?
If she had possessed her physical form, Hestillion would have bitten her lip. Conversations with Ygseril seemed to go nowhere, every attempt to extract information thrown off with incomprehensible questions.
‘We are the god-touched, lord. You raised us above all the peoples of Sarn to be your glory.’ Hestillion paused. Had Ygseril decided they were not worthy of saving? Did he no longer love his own creatures? That would explain the centuries of deathly silence. ‘But without your sap, we wane.’
You are so determined. The voice sounded amused now. Hestillion swallowed down the surge of impatience that threatened to close her throat, but frustration shivered through her voice like the strings of a plucked instrument.
‘I only wish to restore you, Ygseril. Please, tell me what you need and I shall see that it is done. My resources are so much greater than they were – I have much of Sarn dancing at my fingertips! Whatever it is you need, we can find it.’
Whatever it was, she needed to figure it out soon. The humans easily outnumbered them now, and she knew that if they truly wanted to enter the Hall of Roots, they could. And if that happened, any chance that Hestillion had to keep this secret – this incredible, this desperate secret – to herself would vanish, and with it her chance to be the one to save Ebora. She would never have the time alone with him, and she was sure that was the key.
It is so dark down here. We only seek the light.
Hestillion frowned. She had not heard Ygseril refer to himself as ‘we’ before.
‘Do you require more light? Is that it?’
It couldn’t be. They had tried that, more than once, over the long quiet years of slow death, and it had never made any difference. But Ygseril didn’t answer, and as she waited, the soft cloud of light slowly faded away, until she was alone in the shadow roots.
It was intolerable.
Aldasair stood very still, feeling his discomfort prickle up his back like the legs of some great insect. There was no escaping. They were everywhere, blocking his every escape route.
‘But there’s nothing to do here!’
A small fist clutched at his cuff. It was probably a sticky fist. He looked down at the human child and attempted to arrange his features into something approaching affable, if not exactly friendly.
‘Can you not amuse yourselves? When I was a child –’ Aldasair cleared his throat. He hadn’t been a child for hundreds of years. ‘When I was a child we learned how to play musical instruments or paint pictures.’
The look the human child gave him made Aldasair realise that all the frustrated looks shot his way by Hestillion over the years had actually been remarkably polite.
‘We don’t have musical insraments.’
So many of Ebora’s visitors had brought children with them that it had been decided that a particular place should be found for them – much of the city was still unsafe, after all, populated by hungry wolves, and dotted with buildings on the point of collapse; curious children exploring such a place could mean disaster. Aldasair had brought them to the old ballroom, thinking of long-ago evenings full of music and laughter, but of course there was no music any more, and it was a vast, lonely place despite the tall windows filled with light. Now, it smelled strongly of dust and mould, and the human children – around twenty of them so far – seemed distinctly unimpressed. They clustered around him, staring openly at his face with very little of the reticence of their parents.
‘If you could, if you could just –’ He took a slow breath. So much talking, after so many years of silence, and all these eyes watching. ‘Please. Just –’ He took a few steps backwards, and half of them shuffled with him. ‘Whatever you would do, in your own homes, if you could—’
A tall figure swept into the room from behind him, picking up the child at his sleeve and whipping him into the air as though he were made of feathers.
‘I’m hungry,’ declared Bern the Younger to the room at large. ‘This rabbit looks about the right size for me.’ He slung the child, who was shrieking with delight, over his shoulder. To Aldasair’s amazement, the other small humans were grinning at him too. ‘Or, let me check – not sure there’s enough flesh on his bones.’ He tickled the boy, who yowled and wriggled with laughter so violent that Bern swept him back down to the floor.
‘Bern! Bern!’ One of the smallest girls ran over and hugged his knee. ‘It’s so boring, Bern, will you play with us, Bern?’
‘What’s this chicken clucking at my leg? Are you laying an egg, little chicken?’ Bern straightened up and looked around at the room. ‘Well, this is certainly a big place. I am afraid, noisy chickens and skinny rabbits, that I have lots of important work to do, and so does Lord Aldasair here, but, I do have something for you.’ He reached into a small leather bag at his belt and brought out a handful of perfectly round grey stones. They were all carved with symbols Aldasair didn’t recognise.
‘What’s that, what’s that?’ The small girl threw herself at Bern’s legs with all her might, not moving him in the slightest.
‘These are Thump Stones.’ He looked up and surveyed the room before gesturing to a lanky human boy with braided blond hair. ‘I see you lurking at the back there, Raggn. Do you feel like teaching these smelly animals how to play Thump?’ He reached back into the bag and retrieved two smaller bags made of yellow cloth. ‘I have enough here to set up a tournament.’
The tall boy grinned lopsidedly.
‘Aye, Bern, it’s no trouble.’
The big man passed the stones to the boy, then looked at Aldasair for the first time. ‘It’s easy to learn, Thump. All Finneral children learn how to play it as soon as they can hold a stone. You’re not especially fond of those windows, are you?’