So was Kerin - what was he doing here? They had left him in the cargo-bay with Damaru.
Damaru.
Was there a problem?
‘We have to let him in,’ Kerin said urgently.
Sais said, ‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Something must have happened in the cargo-bay - Damaru was there!’
‘All right. I’ll open the door, but be careful.’
Einon had apparently given up; he walked out of the picture again.
Sais snatched up the pilot’s weapon and came over to stand by Kerin. He pressed a button on the panel, then stood facing the door, needle-pistol in hand.
What little of the corridor they could see was empty. Then Einon peered round the door. When he saw them he said, ‘Ah, there you are.’
Sais said, ‘You were meant to stay in the cargo-bay.’
‘Aye, but Damaru—’
She was right, Damaru was in trouble! ‘What is it?’ Kerin used her good arm to lever herself out of the seat and managed to stand. Her legs felt too long for her body, though the prospect of falling over did not worry her as much as it should.
‘Kerin, wait—’
Einon was saying ‘—some sort of fit. He is shouting, asking for you.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the pilot getting up. ‘Don’t you move!’ bellowed Sais, swinging the little silver weapon towards the other man.
Kerin started to stagger across the room. If Damaru was in trouble, she had to go to him.
Einon withdrew his head. She bounced off the doorframe and followed him out. Sais was calling out to her again, something about not knowing how Einon had found them, but she wasn’t paying attention.
Einon stood a little way up the corridor, beckoning to her. Kerin registered a dark shape near him, but all that mattered was staying upright long enough to follow the priest back to her son. She should not have let the desire for vengeance and foolish heroics get in the way of caring for Damaru. He had to be her first priority.
The change came without warning, swift and violent as lightning.
One moment, she was heading unsteadily after Einon, her head full of concern for her boy.
The next, she saw only the figure who stepped out into the centre of the corridor. The woman wore a long black robe. She had a cold, immortal beauty, with eyes as old as Creation. All thoughts left Kerin’s head save awe and wonder at being in what must surely be a divine presence.
Beside the figure, she was vaguely aware of Einon dropping to his knees, his face twisted in rapture. The woman strode up and looked her full in the face.
Kerin felt, at that moment, the comfort her mother had given, the love she had herself given to the Skymothers, and the surety of knowing that all would be well, provided she obey without question.
At the same time, deep in her soul, far from the world-filling wonder of the radiant gaze, horror grew. The small part of her mind still her own screamed that this was a Sidhe, and she had been caught.
The Sidhe put a finger to Kerin’s lips, a half-smile growing on her face. Behind the apparent humour Kerin sensed a deep, burning malice. The Sidhe broke eye contact and stepped back; Kerin found herself turning to face the open door to the bridge. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Sidhe move behind her, hiding.
Sais ran through the door, crouched low, the pilot’s weapon at the ready. Though Kerin already knew she would not be permitted to shout a warning, she still tried. Her throat was locked tight.
Sais stopped when he saw Kerin, started to open his mouth to speak—
—then jerked upright, a look of shock on his face.
The pilot ran unsteadily through the door and stumbled into him. Sais sprawled forward.
The pilot looked grey-faced, but despite this, he attacked with an animal ferocity; when Sais started to get up he brought both fists down onto his back. Sais collapsed.
The pilot looked up, past Kerin, and his face erupted into a huge smile. He stepped back from Sais and bent down to pick up the weapon Sais had dropped.
Sais rolled onto his side and got an elbow under him, then stopped as he realised the pilot was pointing the needle-pistol at him.
‘Look at her,’ said the pilot, his voice slurred yet full of suppressed anger. ‘Look at her or I’ll blow your fucking head off.’
Sais raised his head and turned it towards Kerin.
‘No, not her,’ the pilot said angrily.
Moving like a man who knows he is doomed, Sais let his gaze slide on to the Sidhe, who had moved out to stand next to Kerin. She could tell the moment he truly saw their adversary; he went rigid, his body frozen in place, his face slack as death.
The pilot glanced down at Sais, gave a quiet ‘
hhhmmph
’, then kicked him hard in the ribs. Sais quivered at the impact, but made no other response. The pilot stepped over him, then walked slowly back up the passage towards Kerin and the Sidhe, who were standing side-by-side. He was obviously in some discomfort, yet he smiled so hard Kerin thought his face might crack.
He stopped in front of the Sidhe, head bowed, still smiling. Kerin found she could now turn enough to see them clearly: it was as though the Sidhe had become the centre of her world. The Sidhe reached out and touched the pilot’s cheek. It was a gentle, sensuous touch. He raised his head and closed his eyes, leaning into her hand as though his very life flowed from her. Then he opened his eyes and looked up at his lover. Kerin could almost sense the silent communication passing between the two of them.
Finally the Sidhe nodded and the pilot dipped his head, stepped back, then walked up the corridor to where Einon knelt. Kerin tried to watch him, but she could turn her head so far and no more: she had to keep the Sidhe in the centre of her vision.
She saw the pilot extend an arm - the one holding his weapon - and heard a whistling hiss, short and sharp, followed at once by a thin spatter, as of someone throwing a beaker of water onto a stone floor. She did not recognise the strange strangled gurgle, but the damp thud that followed told her enough to fill in the details.
She heard the pilot mutter, ‘That position was already taken, arsehole.’
Despite knowing that what she saw would be terrible, she tried once more to turn her head to look down the passage.
The gentle, commanding voice filled her mind, its presence a terrible intimacy. A moment later Kerin found her head turning fast enough to crick her neck.
The pilot stood over Einon’s body. He must have shot the priest in the face: the front of Einon’s head was a bloody mess, and much of the floor behind him was covered in blood.
Kerin had a sudden urge to vomit. The Sidhe must have stifled the reflex, as all that happened was a small dry retch. Even as the burning stench of her stomach juices rushed up the back of her nose Kerin found her head turning back, more slowly this time.
The Sidhe turned to face her, then stepped back against the opposite wall: from there she had a clear view of both Kerin and Sais. Kerin could now see Sais where he lay, though it was an uncomfortable stretch. The pilot walked in front of her on his way to stand beside his mistress.
Had she imagined it, or was there a momentary lessening of control when the pilot passed between her and the Sidhe? Could the medicine in her system be cushioning her against the horror? Maybe it would allow her to fight the Sidhe? Or was it something else?
Looking back at the Sidhe now, Kerin saw that she had turned to look at the pilot - for more silent words, no doubt. But it did seem that, for whatever reason, the Sidhe’s control over Kerin lapsed a little when she concentrated on someone else. Perhaps she could use that in some way.
The Sidhe looked at her again.
So, thought Kerin, is she talking in Sais’s head too? Does that put a strain on her, to speak to us both?
Suddenly Kerin wanted to flee and hide, anything to escape this hatred that burned colder than the sky in winter - but she could not even move.
The voice in Kerin’s head softened; no longer the embodiment of unearthly vengeance, it was more like a song she was desperate to catch the melody of.
>
Even as, deep within herself, she looked for ways to escape, Kerin felt contrite and ashamed to have caused this amazing being any trouble.
She was right, of course. This sky-woman was so majestic, her might assured . . . and yet she was arrogant - there must be a weakness somewhere they could use!
The Sidhe cocked her head to look directly at Kerin.
The fragment of Kerin’s mind that remained free froze.
Kerin felt the presence in her head uncoil and begin to withdraw. As soon as the pressure was released she tried to assert her will. Maybe she could raise her hands, or look away—
Searing pain exploded throughout her body; every part of her burned in cold fire. The sensation was unbearable. If she could only concentrate enough to speak, she would beg for an end to the pain, even if that meant her death—
The agony was gone as quickly as it had come and she found herself held rigid. The very act of breathing was granted as a boon. The Sidhe was right. She was a goddess who must not - could not - be opposed.
‘Maman?’
Kerin felt her head whip round. The Sidhe and the pilot looked towards the voice with the same unnatural speed.
Damaru walked into the corridor, just beyond Einon’s body. He looked distraught.
Kerin felt her heart tear. She and Sais were lost, but her boy - surely not him too!
He took a step towards her and she strained to speak, to warn him, though she knew it was futile. Any moment now he would fall to the ground, or freeze, another victim of the Sidhe.
But he did not.
Kerin realised she could move her head again. When she looked at the Sidhe, the sky-woman was looking around, an expression of panic on her face. The Sidhe’s gaze fell on the pilot, standing beside her, his smile gone in a look of confusion. For the first time the Sidhe spoke out loud, a far harsher and more uncertain sound than the voice in Kerin’s head.
‘Shoot it! Shoot it now!’
The pilot appeared to come to his senses. He took a step away from the wall and started to raise his weapon—
Everything stopped.
A heartbeat, drawn out to a lifetime . . .
A flame flaring, then dying . . .
The heart restarts, the fire is rekindled.
Kerin knew who she was, and a fraction of a thought later, where she was.
Everything was as it had been, except for the Sidhe. She was gone.
Kerin found she could move freely. She staggered up the corridor to Damaru, who was sitting on the floor, shaking and keening. There was something on the wall of the corridor beyond him, but that did not matter now. He had exercised his power and saved them.
She embraced Damaru with her good arm, laughing and crying all at once, and murmuring, ‘My son, my child.’
Behind her, she could hear Sais shouting at the pilot. As she calmed down in the aftermath of Damaru’s miracle, she wondered what it was that she had glimpsed up the corridor. She looked over Damaru’s shoulder.
The wall had an imprint on it, a human figure in profile, arms outstretched. The imprint dripped red, and at the base of the wall was a pile of shattered bones, shredded flesh and mangled organs covered in streamers of black fabric.
With nothing left in her stomach, she was reduced to dry heaves of revulsion.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ignoring the combined after-effects of the Sidhe’s mental lock and the unreality of close contact with shiftspace, Sais made himself stand. The pilot was still facing away from him. The corridor swayed and dipped, and there was a roaring like the sea in his ears. His current state didn’t allow for any clever attacks. He put both arms round the pilot’s shoulders and pulled him backwards.
The pilot crumpled and Sais stepped back to let him fall. Then he bent down and swiped the gun from the man’s limp hand, narrowly avoiding joining him on the floor as a wave of dizziness hit. ‘Don’t move,’ he grunted.
The other man stared up at him blankly. Sais kicked him - gently, compared to the kicking the pilot had given him, which had bruised, if not broken, a rib - and said, ‘On your front, hands behind your head.’
The pilot showed no sign of having heard him.
Further along the corridor, Kerin gasped, then gave a rasping retch. Sais looked up to see her on her hands and knees next to Damaru, who was sitting on the floor looking dazed. Although she was retching violently, neither of them appeared to be hurt. When he looked beyond her, he could see the reason for her reaction. So that was what had happened to the Sidhe.
Nice one, Damaru.
‘Are you all right?’ he called.
She waved a hand to show she would be.
He turned his attention back to the pilot, who hadn’t moved. ‘Listen, you prick, I really don’t have time for this,’ he said.