“Who are you people?” she whispered, stepping back.
Hairlock's eyes snapped open, clear of pain and shock. His gaze found Tattersail and the stained smile came easily to his broken lips. “Lost arts, “Sail. What you're about to see hasn't been done in a thousand years.”
His face darkened then and the smile faded. Something burned in his eyes. “Think back, woman! Calot and I. When we went down. What did you see? Did you feel something? Something odd? Come on, think! Look at me! See my wound, see how I'm lying! Which direction was I facing when that wave hit?”
She saw the fire in his eyes, of anger mingled with triumph. “I'm not sure,” she said slowly. “Something, yes.” That detached, reasoning part of her mind that had laboured with her throughout the battle, that had screamed in her mind at Calot's death, screamed in answer to the waves of sorcery-to the fact that they had come from the plain. Her eyes narrowed on Hairlock. “Anomander Rake never bothered to aim. He was being indiscriminate. Those waves of power were aimed, weren't they? Coming at us from the wrong side.” She was trembling. “But why? Why would Tayschrenn do that?”
Hairlock reached up one mangled hand and clutched Quick Ben's cloak. “Use her, Mage. I'll take the chance.”
Tattersail's thoughts raced. Hairlock had been sent down into the tunnels by Dujek. And Whiskeyjack and his squad had been down there.
A deal had been struck. “Hairlock, what's happening here?” she demanded, fear clenching the muscles of her neck and shoulders. “What do you mean, “use” me?”
“You're not blind, wornan!”
“Quiet,” Quick Ben said. He laid down the object on the wizard's ravaged chest, positioning it carefully so that it was centred lengthways along Hairlock's breastbone. The top end reached to just under the man's chin, the bottom end extending a few inches beyond what was left of his torso. Webs of black energy spun incessantly over the hide's mottled surface.
Quick Ben passed a hand over the object and the web spread outward.
The glittering black threads traced a chaotic pattern that insinuated Hairlock's entire body, over flesh and through it, the pattern ever changing, the changes coming faster and faster. Hairlock jerked, his eyes bulging, then fell back. A breath escaped his lungs in a slow, steady hiss.
When it ceased with a wet gurgle, he did not draw another.