‘Sounds terrifying.’
‘Aye, doesn’t it? There.’ He pointed. ‘That tent. Quick’s in there. Or he said he would be, once he got back from the command tent. Anyway, I got to go collect my squad.’
Hedge walked off.
Bottle tried to imagine five thousand Hedges, with the real Hedge in charge. Hood’s breath, I’d want a continent between me and them. Maybe two. He repressed a shiver, and then headed to the tent. ‘Quick? You in there?’
The flap rippled.
Scowling, Bottle crouched and ducked inside.
‘Stop spying on the Adjunct and me,’ the wizard said. He was sitting at the far end, crosslegged. In front of him and crowding the earthen floor in the tent’s centre was a heap of what looked like children’s dolls.
Bottle sat down. ‘Can I play?’
‘Funny. Trust me, these things you don’t want to play with.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. My grandmother-’
‘I’m tying threads, Bottle. You want to get yourself tangled in that?’
Bottle shrank back. ‘Ugh, no thanks.’
Quick Ben bared his smallish teeth, a neat white row. ‘The mystery is, there’s at least three in there I can’t even identify. A woman, a girl and some bearded bastard who feels close enough to spit on.’
‘Who are they tied to?’
The wizard nodded. ‘Your granny taught you way too much, Bottle. I already told Fiddler to treat you as our shaved knuckle. Aye, I’ve been trying to work that out, but the skein’s still a bit of a mess, as you can see.’
‘You’re rushing it too much,’ Bottle said. ‘Leave them to shake loose on their own.’
‘Maybe so.’
‘So, what have you and the Adjunct got to be so secret about? If I really am your shaved knuckle, I need to know things like that, so I know what to do when it needs doing.’
‘Maybe it’s her,’ mused Quick Ben, ‘or more likely it was T’amber. They’ve sniffed me out, Bottle. They’ve edged closer than anybody’s ever done, and that includes Whiskeyjack.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Maybe Kallor. Maybe Rake-yes, Rake probably saw clear enough-was it any wonder I avoided him? Well, Gothos, sure, but-’
‘High Mage,’ cut in Bottle, ‘what are you going on about?’
Quick Ben started, and then glared. ‘Distracted, sorry. You don’t need to spy on her-Lostara saw the rat and nearly chopped it in half. I managed to intervene, made up some story about using it for an augury. If anything vital comes up, I will let you know.’
‘A whisper in my skull.’
‘We’re heading into a maze, Bottle. The Adjunct’s ageing in front of my eyes, trying to figure out a way through the Wastelands. Have you tried soul-riding anything into it? It’s a snarl of potent energies, massive blind-spots, and a thousand layers of warring rituals, sanctified grounds, curse-holes, blood-pits, skin-sinks. I try and just reel back, head ready to split, tasting blood in my mouth.’
‘The ghost of a gate,’ said Bottle.
Quick Ben’s eyes glittered in the gloom. ‘An area of influence, yes, but that ghost gate, it’s wandered-it’s not even there any more, in the Wastelands, I mean.’
‘East of the Wastelands,’ said Bottle. ‘That’s where we’ll find it, and that’s where we’re going, isn’t it?’
Quick Ben nodded. ‘Better the ghost than the real thing.’
‘Familiar with the real one, are you, High Mage?’
He glanced away. ‘She’s worked that one out all on her own. Too canny, too damned unknowable.’
‘Do you think she’s in communication with her brother?’
‘I don’t dare ask,’ Quick Ben admitted. ‘She’s like Dujek that way. Some things you just don’t bring up. But, you know, that might explain a lot of things.’
‘But then ask yourself this,’ said Bottle. ‘What if she isn’t?’
The wizard was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed. ‘If not Paran, then who?’
‘Right.’
‘That’s a nasty question.’
‘I don’t spy on the Adjunct just when she has you for company, Quick Ben. Most of the time I watch her, it’s when she’s alone.’
‘That’s pathetic-’
‘Fuck the jokes, High Mage. Our Adjunct knows things. And I want to know how. I want to know if she has company none of us know a thing about. Now, if you want me to stop doing that, give me a solid reason. You say she’s got close to you. Have you returned the favour?’