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  He looked down and saw that his hands were transformed. They were clawed but not like hers. These were chitinous, insect-like, monstrous. Black tendrils emerged from his wrists, ran all the way up his arm and across his chest before disappearing down into his heart.

  Rhea was gone. The city was gone. The sky was the same but all around him now were the black walls of some alien city rising amid a jungle of mushroom trees and drifting vines. They were not built from stone but from some kind of sleek chitin. Cables similar to the ones attached to his body ran all over the walls.

  A horrible suspicion began to grow in his mind. He reached up with one of his claws to touch his own face, and found that it had tendrils and a leech-like mouth. He wanted to shout and curse but no words would come out because he did not have lips or a tongue to speak.

  He woke screaming. Looking down he could see that parts of his arm looked bruised and blackish, but even as he watched they vanished, leaving him unsure as to whether it had been real or merely the fading memory of a nightmare. The chamber surrounding him looked like his old cell in the darkness. The difference was that now he was even more alone.

  Chapter Seven

  As the gondola circled, Ulrik got a fine view of the port. Gigantic airships chained to towering mooring masts filled the sky. Air barges nuzzled alongside them, transhipping cargoes. Enormous bonded warehouses surrounded the area. The ruins of Old Typhon, scorched by ancient spell-weapons, ran almost to the horizon and beyond that he caught the glitter of earth domes and the green of irrigated farmlands.

  “I love this,” said Rhea. She seemed as excited as a girl going to her first dance. “Have you ever been on a liner?” she asked him.

  Valerius gave a sardonic smile.

  “Our friend Ulrik has been on many ships, usually as an uninvited guest, helping to relieve the passengers of their excessive wealth. Is that not so?” Valerius asked.

  “It is so.”

  “Forgive me if it was tactless to point it out. I think it’s something we should keep to ourselves once we are on board. Take a last glimpse at the towers of Typhon. It may be some time before we see them again.”

  The gondola landed on a long pier jutting out from the side of a purple-painted tower. Servants in the livery of Karnak hustled to unload their trunks from the gondola. They made their way from the private landing area to join the groups of passengers preparing to board.

  Officials cleared a way through the barriers for Valerius and his companions. A servant had already presented his papers. Ulrik looked at the crowds getting ready to board. They were wealthy and well-fed, their clothes of the most fashionable glamourcloth, their jewellery covered in the most expensive protective sorceries.

  A tall languid woman garbed in spun gold and surrounded by a cloud of cosmetic illusion clutched a pet spider-hound to her narrow breast while she ordered her dwarf servants to be careful with her trunks.

  They waited for a launch to take them to The Pride of Karnak. All around them was controlled chaos as trunks were weighed and packed aboard cargo tenders and passengers boarded the air-launches that would take them to the ship. A tall bearded priest of Ael made the sign of the Skull over his breast and then turned to bless his acolytes.

  Finally their turn came to board and they walked up the gangplank and onto the launch. Just as the steward was about to close the barrier, they heard the sound of tears and loud farewells. Turning Ulrik saw a beautifully dressed young man in a long coat of outlandish design, kissing good-bye to a group of expensively dressed young women. He smiled winningly at one and all, packed favours within his jacket pocket and raced towards the launch. A mass of green-robed bodyguards followed him.

  “Thank you for holding the launch,” he said, although no-one had made any effort on his behalf. “It would not do to have missed this ship. It will be a week before another convoy heads for Sharnal.”

  The Pride of Karnak was a vast teardrop of metal and skywood. Six huge pylons jutted from the liftkeel. Each held a ten-foot diameter stone sphere housing a trapped air-elemental that helped keep the ship aloft. A similar number of pylons jutted from the dorsal spine of the airship.

  On each side of the ship was a powerful rotary engine, its windmill-like impellor blades powered by a trapped storm elemental. The commander of the launch was very careful to keep his craft away from them. The name of the vessel was painted in glyphs five times the height of a man along its sides along with the symbols of its city and House Karnak. Sky sailors attached to the framework of the outer hull by safety lines made last second checks, while passengers watched from the balconies of their staterooms.

  The launch looped around and swept into the docking bay at the rear of the craft. Sailors made it secure and a gangplank was run out so that the passengers might descend. The captain himself waited upon Valerius. The two men exchanged greetings and then a uniformed steward led them to a stateroom that only seemed small in comparison to the suites they occupied in Karnak Tower. In truth it was larger than some ships Ulrik had flown on. On the far side of the chamber was a balcony protected by a crystal cupola. While Valerius threw himself down on a couch, Ulrik walked over to the balcony and out. The curve of the hull blocked a good deal of the sky but he had a tremendous view looking back towards Typhon.

  Clouds of soot rose from the smokestacks of the alchemical factories. The sun struck the glossy sides of the towers turning them into blazing multi-coloured mirrors. Around the port were the shipyards where the frames of airships lay in every stage of construction from mere metal skeletons, to complete hulls waiting only the fitting of liftkeels and engine mounts.

  From this height he could see beyond the canal zone surrounding the city out to the edge of the endless rusty red desert. In an odd way, he felt like was going home. Soon they would leave the city behind and be out over the vast wastelands of Old Urath.

  Warm fur pressed against his side as Rhea joined him on the balcony. She smiled, revealing her small sharp teeth, and then looked out over the city.

  A siren sounded notifying the passengers that the ship would soon be under way.

  Ulrik imagined the command deck with the captain shouting orders into the speaking tubes and the helmsmen at the levers and wheel that would let them control the ship. In his mind’s eye, he saw the sailors and engineers at their position, throwing trip switches, ordering elementals into action.

  The ship shuddered beneath them, the great rotors beginning to turn, blurring until they were invisible. The anchor chains dropped away and the ship moved forward slowly, searching for the sky lane that would let it avoid collision with other vessels. Leaving and entering port was when most accidents happened.

  The Pride of Karnak rose, moving higher than the tallest towers, swinging out over the ruins of the Old City. Tiny figures looked up and waved. Gondolas swam through the densely-packed sky below them.

  Without really seeming to gain any speed, they were soon out over the irrigated lands surrounding the city. Huge greenhouses sparkled in the sun beneath them. Massive windmills powered the pumps that filled the canals. Here and there elemental wells glowed with sorcerous power as they brought water through from the Dimension Oceanic. From this height the titanic structures looked small and delicate and it came to Ulrik just how fragile humanity’s grip was on this dying world. Aeons of war and magical catastrophe had drained the land of life.

  The Pride of Karnak moved towards a cluster of ships drifting among the clouds. As they came closer Ulrik saw dozens of freighters and liners in the colours of their Houses strung out in a double line-abreast formation. Around them moved formations of military ships, great grey dreadnaughts of the sky, sleek swift destroyers, tiny scout flyers. Enough power was concentrated in this one place to level a small city.

  “They are taking no chances,” he said to Rhea.

  “They are worried about pirates,” said Valerius joining them on the balcony.

  “No pirates would attack a ship like this,” said Ulrik. “There is no
need for us to be part of a convoy.”

  “I regret to inform you that you are wrong, my friend. Recently the pirates have grown exceedingly bold. They have attacked liners and trading ships. That’s why our craft have taken to flying in convoys.”

  “I have never heard of pirates being so well organised,” said Ulrik. “Are you sure it’s not the fleet of some rival nation flying under false colours? Even in the Pit we had heard that war loomed between Typhon and Korveria.”

  “Our agents report that all the Four Empires seem to be suffering the Black Ships’ depredations equally.”

  “The Black Ships?”

  “The survivors reported that the pirate ships have been painted black and were of unusual design.”

  “How so?”

  “The ships were enormous craft, incredibly ornate, their prows sculpted to resemble the heads of demons or dragons or some combination of both. Red runes glowed in their side. They had no elemental engines but flew using some other mode of propulsion.”

  “Where do they come from? I have never heard of such ships before.”

  “Some people think the lesser moon. Myself, I am inclined to suspect your old home port of Hydra.”

  “No such ships were built there when I was a captain and that was only a year ago.”

  “These raids started less than a year ago. They have been intensifying for about three months. The Emperor is becoming ever more anxious to have the matter resolved. You’re may be right though, the ships are not of typical Hydran design and we have heard nothing from our agents there about them.”

  “Surely there must be some clues as to where these things come from. If the pirates took captives they would be on sale in some slave market somewhere.”

  “They are not.”

  “Maybe the pirates are breaking them up for organs.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “I am afraid it gets worse.”

  “In what way?”

  “Some of the pirates were equipped with black blades.” Ulrik thought about it. The ships Valerius had described might have been created using the same techniques as the demon swords. He did not know enough about magic to know whether it was possible but there was certainly a resemblance in terms of physical appearance.

  “Is that why you are so interested in where these weapons come from?” Ulrik asked.

  “At the moment, it is the only lead we have on these sky pirates, and it’s a very tenuous one at that.”

  “Let’s hope that we don’t get more first-hand experience of these bold raiders.”

  “I could not agree more.”

  As The Pride of Karnak took its place in the double line of airships, Ulrik wondered just how likely it was. The Empire of Typhon would not be taking all these precautions if it did not think there was a real threat.

  Ulrik was in no hurry to face another black blade, let alone a ship full of pirates armed with them.

  Ulrik stood on the great observation deck at the rear of the ship. The glowing light of the Ring filled the night sky and illuminated the wasteland below. Two moons raced across the sky. The constant drone of airship engines filled the night with muted thunder. Around them the running lights of the other vessels in the convoy glittered, witchfires blazing a warning for other craft to keep their distance. Now and then a trapped storm elemental sparked, and an arc of lightning lit up the side of one of the other craft.

  Ulrik drew his cloak tight around him. At this altitude, the night air was cold. The ship’s orchestra were asleep, most of the revellers had gone to their bunks. Only a few passengers, wakeful like himself, were still abroad. Tired looking sailors mopped the deck. In a distant corner, Valerius and a group of wealthy passengers played cards and smoked narcotic tobacco.

  Rhea came and stood beside him. “You like to be alone,” she said.

  “I wanted time to think,” he said. “I used to take late watches on the Condor just so I could do that.”

  “If I am disturbing you I will go.”

  “No. You are not disturbing me. Quite the contrary.”

  “The Condor—what was that?”

  “It was my ship, in another life.”

  “You must find this very strange.”

  “Yes. So must you.”

  Rhea looked down at the desert, a fractured wasteland of cracked earth and huge mesas. Atop one a small cluster of lights marked the location of some outback village where wastelanders eked out a desperate living amid the barren land.

  “I love it up here,” she said. “When I was younger I used to always look at skyships and think of freedom.” Ulrik smiled.

  “So did I.”

  “I have never been free,” she said.

  “You were born a slave?”

  “I was born in a vat. The wizard who bred me owned me.” Sadness showed in the cat-girl’s voice but Ulrik wondered if he was just reading human emotions into it because of her human appearance. He was never sure how such cross-breeds actually thought.

  “Did Valerius make you?”

  “No. He came along later. He bought me from the slavers when I was sold for being a thief.”

  “We have that in common then. How did you escape from your creator?”

  “I didn’t. He was killed by raiders. I was taken as a slave. I escaped them when I got to Typhon. I lived on the street for years, making money how I could, stealing whatever I could get my claws into. Eventually the thief takers got me.” Ulrik was suspicious. She seemed to want to convince him that they were alike. He wondered why?

  “What was he like, your maker?”

  “At one time I thought he was a god. Now I can see that he was just a sad old man who wanted company. He was a wizard, who had retired to a tower in the wastelands to pursue his researches. His sorcery did not save him when the raiders came. You look sad. Why?”

  “I was thinking of my father. I thought he was a god once too, when I was a child. When I was older I came to see that he was just like other men, no better and no worse.”

  “Disillusionment is part of growing up or so I have been told.” There was bitterness in her voice.

  “I suppose so. What sort of research did your maker pursue?”

  “He was interested in the demons of the desert. There are a lot of subworld gates down there. He made pacts with some of the things he pulled through. He claimed that there was some of their blood in me.”

  Over the aeons many wizards had cross-bred demons with other life forms. It made them stronger and more powerful magically. It was supposed to make them more wicked as well. Ulrik wondered about that. In his experience people could be quite wicked enough without having demon blood in them.

  “Why is Valerius so interested in these pirates?”

  “Commerce. House Karnak is one of the great trading Houses—they can’t be too thrilled about losing so many ships. In their world money is power. You lose ships and gold and your enemies gain strength relatively. There are many who would like to see Karnak destroyed.”

  “He’s taking a roundabout way of finding the pirates.”

  “He’s taking the only way he can find. The black blades are the only connection he has come across.”

  “You are his lover, aren’t you?”

  “Is that fact of interest to you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are not one of those men who believe in sharing lovers?”

  “Not on a permanent basis.”

  “I am not his only lover,” she said. “Or even only his lover for that matter.”

  “What else are you?”

  “I am a bodyguard too, and an agent of sorts.”

  “You have contacts in the Old Town?”

  “I told you I was a thief there. I learned to do many things.”

  “I bet you did.”

  “Given your previous career I don’t think you are in a position to be passing judgem
ent.”

  “I was not passing judgement,” he lied.

  “How were you captured?”

  “I was reckless after… well, never mind.” He had almost mentioned the death of his family but it was not something he wanted to share. “Privateers overhauled my ship. There was a battle. We lost. I was thrown in chains. Then I was sold into the Pits. The rest I think you know. Did Valerius use his machine on you too—the one that binds your lives together.”

  She shook her head. “He used a geas spell. It compels loyalty although I would be loyal to him anyway.”

  “Not very trusting is he?”

  “He was born into House Karnak.” She said it, as if that explained everything. In a way, it did. Valerius was a sorcerer from a clan of sorcerers whose origins were lost in the mists of history. His family was ancient and wicked and powerful, and its members were not known for their love of one another. After a few moments, she added; “He’s not a pure blood, you know. His mother was a slave. That’s one reason his siblings hate him.”

  “They don’t want the bloodline diluted?”

  “He thinks they don’t like the fact that a half-breed has risen to a position of power in the House.”

  “He occupies one then?”

  “Lord Karnak favours him. Why do you think we are here? He is a trusted agent, no matter what he chooses to say or how things appear.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  She paused for a moment. “He is not the worst master we could have — by a long way.”

  “Has he promised you your freedom?”

  “Why would I want it? For someone like me being free on the streets of Typhon means being free to starve.”

  “You would rather remain within House Karnak.”

  “It is warm. I get what I want. I have enough to eat.”

  “Is that the limit of your ambitions?”

  “There was a time when those ambitions seemed as far beyond my reach as the moons. What are yours?”

  “I want to be free. I want to have the deck of a ship beneath my feet and a crew ready to obey my orders.”

  “You might achieve it all, if you stick with Valerius.”