Wu waved him onward. ‘Come. We’ll knock. Simple process of elimination, yes?’
Dancer edged forward on to the walk of laid flags, all wet and overgrown by moss and lichens. Why was he following this fool into yet another uncertain situation? Could he not let him get the better of him? Was it rivalry? No. He took hold of the heaviest blades at his baldrics. Reluctantly, he was coming to the realization that he actually felt quite protective of the helpless fellow; as one must watch out for a halfwit younger brother.
Ahead, Wu was apparently approaching the front door with complete nonchalance; he was tapping his walking stick, humming tunelessly. The walk curved around mounds that dotted the large overgrown grounds. Squat, dead or near-dead trees brooded over these mounds, their branches empty of all leaves, black and gleaming wet. A low wall of heaped fieldstones enclosed the property.
Wu used the metal head of his walking stick to rap on the stout door.
Dancer stood behind, scanning the rear and the grounds. Something about the forsaken unkempt yard troubled him more than the house itself.
‘Hello?’ Wu called. ‘Anyone there?’ He reached out to take hold of the wrought-iron latch and pulled, to no effect.
Silence from the house, while the rain hissed and the sea, not so distant, rolled against the rocky shore and the city wharves. The impression the place gave Dancer was of a hunched brooding bulk. It was constructed of dressed stones, two-storeyed, with one side slightly taller in what might be a tower of sorts, but all that seemed a fa?ade for something else, something deeper. For example, a few small deeply seated windows dotted the structure, but the glass was faceted and smoky, as if merely ornamental. The only analogue he could come up with was a cenotaph, or a monument, constructed of solid stone and built to resemble a manor house, yet empty.
Dancer wiped cold rain from his brow. ‘Let’s go. No one’s home.’
‘Someone is home,’ Wu insisted. ‘They’re just ignoring us.’ He stepped back from the wide slab of iron-blue slate that was the house’s landing and shook his fist. ‘Fine! I will be back! And you won’t ignore me then – I swear!’
He turned to Dancer and adjusted his dripping wet coat. ‘Let’s go.’
‘So long as you’re done yelling at an empty house.’
Wu pointed both forefingers in emphasis, ‘I am far from done, my friend!’ He stamped off down the walk.
‘Hey, mister!’ a kid yelled from the street. The street-urchins now lined the fieldstone wall. Some were short enough to lean their elbows on it.
Wu halted. ‘What?’
‘Step out on to the grounds,’ the tallest of them called, while his peers chortled and covered their mouths. The younger ones froze at this suggestion, their eyes huge.
‘The grounds? Whatever for?’
Dancer waved an arm. ‘Get lost, you damned brats.’
‘G’wan,’ the lad called, ‘we double-dare you.’
Wu looked to the overcast sky in exasperation. ‘Fine.’ He stepped out among the dead knee-high grasses and weeds. ‘There. You happy now?’
‘Wow, he actually is that stupid,’ the lad whispered to his friends in wonderment.
Dancer waved Wu onward. ‘Stop showing off.’ He started for the gate.
A slithering, hissing noise among the weeds spun Dancer round. Wu had heard it also, and was scanning the dense matted bracken, looking puzzled. All at once something yanked the mage off his feet and he sprawled, his arms flailing.
The kids stared, jaws agape, then all screamed and scattered into the dark.
Dancer was in the air, blades already out. He fell slashing only to find tough dry roots wrapped about Wu’s ankle. He sawed them, but as soon as one parted two or three more took its place. Wu fumbled at the vines as well, but Dancer slapped his hands away and continued slashing even as both men were violently yanked through thorny brittle brush. He cast a quick glance ahead to see that they were being pulled directly towards the nearest mound – and that its heaped earth was steaming and roiling. Thicker roots now came snaking out of the dirt.
‘Do your stuff,’ he told Wu.
‘Well,’ the mage said, his voice tight with pain. ‘This is rather embarrassing.’
Another yank and they slid forward until Wu’s booted foot was up against the side of the mound. Dancer sawed and slashed frantically. ‘Do something!’ he yelled.
‘Can’t. Shadows won’t fool this…’ The mage suddenly raised his head in obvious inspiration. He raised a finger.
Dancer pointed a blade. ‘No! Don’t you dare!’
Wu’s foot sank into the steaming earth up to his shin. Fatter roots now emerged to twine round his thigh. Dancer noticed, distractedly, that no vines or roots were pulling at him.
‘The only chance, I’m afraid.’
‘No, not yet. We’ll think of something.’
‘Can’t be helped…’
‘No! Don’t you fucking dare!’
Cold darkness swept over him and he shuddered. What seemed like a storm of murk came whipping all about him and either it lifted him, or the earth fell, but he found himself falling in darkness. He hit hard, the breath punched from him, and rolled in dusty sandy earth.
He leapt to his feet, blades readied, turned a full circle. They were in some sort of desert and it was deep twilight. But then, it seemed to always be dusk in Shadow. He spotted Wu a short way off and stamped over to him.
‘I can’t believe you stranded us in Shadow again!’
Wu was holding his leg; his boot and trouser leg had been torn clean off. ‘Well, it worked. Remember that. I think my ankle’s broken.’
‘Well, I’m not carrying you.’
Wu glanced about almost contentedly. ‘Fine. I’ll just rest here until my ankle’s healed.’
Dancer pressed the cold pommels of his daggers to his brow and gave vent, stamping back and forth and kicking at the dust. ‘Arghh! Goddammit!’ He sheathed the blades savagely in his baldrics. ‘Okay! Which way?’
Wu pointed, squinting. ‘What is that?’
Dancer looked far off where the terrain climbed, but then realized that the mage meant closer in: there, a small dark object appeared to be hanging in the air. He wondered if it was a bird – but a bird that did not move? ‘Don’t know.’
‘Let’s have a look.’
Dancer took hold of Wu’s arm, grumbling, ‘Famous last words.’
He lifted the skinny fellow on to his back. He was a very light load. The dusty ground was quite flat, except where outcroppings of bulbous rocks rose suddenly, almost like islands.
‘Those are old coral reefs,’ Wu announced as they passed more of the curving buttes. Dancer grunted his disinterest.
Coming close to the object – or, rather, the ground beneath it – Dancer slowed his pace, staring. He set Wu down, hardly able to take his eyes from the thing.
Finally, Wu announced, rather nonplussed, ‘It’s a boat.’
Dancer nodded his agreement; it was indeed a boat. Round, or basket-shaped. A line descended from it to a net that hung just above them.
‘I wonder what would happen if we—’