The Grigori: Stalking Tender Prey Part 38

It would mean changing your life,' Owen said. Completely. Perhaps for ever.'

I thought you wanted me to leave!'

Owen shook his head, perplexed. I do, but I know you have a certain future mapped out for you. Dropping out now would destroy that.'

I know,' Daniel answered.

It's up to you,' Owen told him. You can only do what you think best. You will have my support - and Lily's - whatever you decide.'

Daniel leaned over and kissed him, uncaring of whether anyone saw him do it. I'll see you later. Don't worry about picking me up, I'll get the bus.'

Are you sure?'

Yes. I still have some thinking to do, but first I have to steel myself for a whole day of playacting!'

Now, Daniel wished he had asked Owen to pick him up after school. His instincts told him something was wrong. The house felt wrong. Had something happened to his father? He went cold as he thought about how Louis had been ill all weekend. Perhaps, unconsciously, he had wished his father dead, to free himself from the life that Louis desired for him. Horrified, Daniel opened the door to his father's study. They were waiting for him there, as if they'd known he'd run to that room, as if they'd antic.i.p.ated his guilty thoughts.

Peverel Othman sat in his father's big, old leather chair before the empty hearth. Behind the chair stood Louis, a man Daniel barely recognised as his father. Beside him, holding his arm, Barbara Eager, too, was a changed woman, her expression veiled and a.s.sured. Verity was sitting on the floor at Othman's feet, hugging her knees. She alone of the group looked miserable, her eyes holding a hunted expression. Daniel wanted to laugh. They all looked both sinister and ridiculous, like a horror film family of vampires waiting for prey.

Daniel,' Othman said, raising his head.

What have you done to them?' Daniel demanded from the doorway, his hand still on the handle. He wasn't sure whether to run or not, although his instincts screamed danger to him.

Done?' Othman laughed sedately. Look for yourself.' He rose from the chair, taller than Daniel remembered. His hair hung thick and loose around his shoulders and chest, his hands were attenuated, demonic, and his eyes, narrowed like a viper's, burned with a light that was almost invisible but which made Daniel's own eyes ache. Daniel wanted to look away. He knew that he should, but lacked the will power. In his heart, he was aware of just how vulnerable he was, and that Othman knew that. He had dared to believe he was different, that a new, stronger self had awoken within him, but it was newborn and fragile. This man, this creature, was more than a match for it.

Othman padded across the carpet, his posture stooped. He seemed too big to fit into the room, as if, should he straighten up, his head would brush the high ceiling, cause the light fitting to sway. Everything normal, Daniel realised, had been removed from his life. The inexplicable had come to replace it. His family were gone, the patterns of routine, the possibility of a mundane future. Was this what he had yearned for? These thoughts gave him the impetus to step back. He slammed the door in Othman's face, turned towards the front door of the house, intending to flee the place, run to Owen and Lily. He had left the front door open. Before he reached it, it crashed shut, and refused to submit to Daniel's struggles with the handle. He glanced over his shoulder. The study door remained closed. Panicking, Daniel began to run down the hall, towards the corridor that led to the kitchen, but then Peverel Othman stepped like a phantom through the closed study door, and stood before him. In his state of heightened awareness and emotion, his body recalled the most effective of its powers.

Daniel,' he said in a soft voice. Don't run from me. Don't be frightened. Why are you afraid?'

Daniel would not answer. He tried to push past Othman, who grabbed hold of his shoulder with taloned fingers. Daniel cried out, beat at the hand that held him, kicked at Othman's legs. He noticed his father and sister, along with Barbara Eager, standing in the doorway to the study, watching the proceedings as if hypnotised. Then Verity cried, No!' and ran forward. She clawed at Othman's face and he was forced to release her brother.

Run, Danny!' she cried, and Daniel had no avenue of escape but the stairs. As he skidded round the corner before alighting on the first floor, he saw Othman strike his sister to the ground, where she lay still. Leaning on the banister, horrified, Daniel looked into the eyes of the demon, glowing vividly now.

Daniel!' Othman began to lope up the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. Daniel ran, scrabbled with the door to his upper floor rooms, and slammed it shut behind him, turning the key. He did not consider that such a flimsy mechanism as a lock would do little to prevent Othman, a creature who could apparently walk through closed doors, gaining entrance to the room. All Daniel could think about was creating s.p.a.ce between himself and Othman. He wondered whether he'd be able to climb out onto the roof from his room.

In his bedroom, Daniel dragged furniture across the door, his strength augmented with fear. He went to the windows, opened them wide, looked out. There was no escape, other than to jump down. But it was too far. He would be injured or killed.

Panting, Daniel backed against the wall of his room, staring at the door. All was quiet. For one, sweet, shuddering moment, he dared to wonder whether he'd just suffered some grotesque hallucination, and that there was no devil outside his door. He wanted to cover his ears, believe for just a while longer, that he could not hear its breathing. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt so weary. How could he fight? It was impossible.

He felt the presence of Peverel Othman before him before he raised his head and opened his eyes.

Offer unto me what is mine,' said Othman. There was blood upon his face, but he looked beatific. His faded fair hair hung like serpents on his breast.

What do you want?' Daniel said, his voice dull. What do you want with me?'

I will not hurt you,' Othman said. Please don't be afraid.'

My family,' Daniel said. What's happened to them. What have you done?'

Othman stepped towards him, reached out to Daniel's s.h.i.+vering face with one hand. The touch was exquisite, so light, yet so electric. Daniel turned his face away. Don't touch me!'

Your father is healed,' Othman said softly. No more pain for him, no more illness. I have done this. Can't you see, my pretty boy, how good I am? I don't wish you harm, any of you. I love you all.'

You are evil!' Daniel cried. Please go! Please, please go!'

How can I leave you when you are so upset?' Othman said. Daniel, don't cry. It hurts me to see it. Let me kiss your tears away.'

He took Daniel's head in his hands, and Daniel knew he could have crushed it like a paper cup if he'd wanted to. Daniel felt completely powerless; there was nothing he could do. Nothing. Othman kissed his face gently, licked his tears. Then he sank down with Daniel in his arms, to sit against the side of the bed. He held Daniel in his lap, stroked his face.

Daniel looked up, and it seemed that reality was seeping away. The room was dark around him. All that existed was the demon's s.h.i.+ning face, and there were tears in his eyes, tears that fell like tiny flames.

I love you,' Othman said. You must believe it.' He hugged Daniel tightly for a moment, and Daniel could feel Othman's body trembling as if he was weeping. He knew then that Othman would kill him. Reality s.h.i.+fted before him, and there was a perfume in his nostrils, of flowers and dried gra.s.ses. The Garden. He saw them moving slowly, gliding phantoms at the very edges of his perception. They were tall, tall as angels. Their faces shone. And Othman was with them. He stood with a group of others on the brow of a ridge. On one side, the cultivated slope led towards s.h.i.+ning water and the terraces of the Garden. Everyone was gesturing towards this place, discussing its features, suggesting innovations. Othman joined in with the occasional remark, but Daniel knew he was only pretending to partic.i.p.ate, and his thoughts in reality were elsewhere. The others could not see him turning round to stare behind them all, down the spiked jumble of rocks and barren stone, the hard path that led to the lowlands and the people there, their daughters. Othman faced the Garden, but his mind looked backwards. His heart was full of a desperate yearning.

There were symbols here to interpret, Daniel thought, but he felt too tired, too weak to a.n.a.lyse them. The demon's face burned through the image of the Garden, and it was wet with tears.

You are Grigori,' Daniel murmured. It was an effort to speak, but he knew he spoke the truth.

Yes,' Othman said. You can truly see me.'

We could have moved to any other village, Daniel thought. It was blind chance that we chose this one. If only we'd known, on that day, that this would happen. It was waiting here for us all along. We should have known.

The touch of the demon was the essence of pleasure. He stroked Daniel's face, his throat, and his burning eyes were full of tenderness.

If you're going to kill me, do it now,' Daniel said. Don't make me suffer this.' Would a demon care about suffering?

You are cruel,' Othman said, shaking his head. How can you say such a thing?'

Then let me go.' Daniel tensed, wondering if escape was still possible.

But Daniel you are a lover and keeper of angels. Why do you fight me? Do you fight Owen this way?'

It occurred to Daniel then that Owen knew what Othman was. They were the same. He felt sick to think that Owen hadn't warned him, perhaps even knew what was happening now. You are two of a kind,' Daniel said. I don't fight him.'

He felt Othman stiffen a little, become alert. You have told Owen what he is?'

No, it was the woman, Emma. She told them everything. You know that.'

I didn't, actually. I was hoping to reveal the truth to Lily and Owen myself.'

Then they don't know that you are Grigori?'

Othman exhaled through his nose, and was silent for a moment before answering. I expect Ms Manden has told them that as well.'

They didn't mention it to me.'

Othman looked into Daniel's eyes. It seemed the Winters were playing a few games of their own. It did not matter. He directed his attention back to Daniel. You must not fear me. You are right in saying Owen and I are the same. Come now, let me love you, and everything will make sense.'

He lowered his face towards Daniel, but Daniel turned away. No!' He managed to find the strength to roll out of Othman's arms. Othman remained where he was, looking at Daniel with a speculative eye. You do not understand what you're running from.'

Daniel got up and lurched towards the door, began tearing at the obstacles he had stacked there, obeying a screaming inner urge to get out of the room. Othman leapt up and pulled Daniel back. Oh no! You're not leaving me.'

Daniel struggled uselessly as Othman lifted him bodily and threw him onto the bed. Then Othman leaned down and, in a casual movement, ripped Daniel's s.h.i.+rt open. His face was angry now, the features seeming more prominent, his eyes a dull glow beneath hanging brows. Daniel curled up into a ball, knowing that Othman could break his limbs to destroy his defences, if necessary. There seemed to be nothing he could do to save himself.

Then came an enormous crash. Othman growled and turned towards the door. Shocked and dazed, Daniel saw it burst inwards. Shards of wood and fabric flew outwards, surrounding a leaping black shape that pounced into the room. At first, Daniel couldn't make out what the creature was or exactly how big it might be; its outline seemed blurred as if a myriad of flickering images were superimposed over one another. The creature threw itself at Othman, snarling like a monstrous cat. Othman threw up his arms to ward off the attack, but the creature lunged forward, throwing Othman back onto the bed. Daniel rolled away quickly and landed heavily on the floor. Glancing back at the bed, he could see that the animal was nothing other than Raven, Verity's cat. Raven was now clawing at Othman's upper body, his ears flat, his back legs kicking. How had a cat possessed the strength to demolish the door and its barricade? Daniel could not hope to answer such questions himself. Only escape was important now. But before Daniel could flee the room, Othman managed to tear himself free from Raven's offensive and flung the cat away from him. The animal went sailing over Daniel's head to land with a dull thump against the far wall. Daniel cringed, expecting Othman to grab hold of him again, but Raven recovered immediately. With a furious scream, he lunged towards the bed again, but by this time Othman had leapt up and soared nimbly over the debris in the doorway. Already, he was disappearing down the stairs. Raven paused for a moment and glanced at Daniel. For a split second, his image blurred again, and it seemed as if a darkly furred man was crouching there on hands and knees. Daniel gasped, scrabbled backwards. Then, with a final red-mouthed hiss, Raven jumped through the doorway and followed Othman downstairs. After a moment or two, Daniel heard a cacophony of yowling and spitting, as if a dozen or more cats were having a battle on the first floor landing. There were sounds of things breaking, even the echo of an anguished voice from downstairs. Then, after a final feline scream, and a tremendous crash, silence. Daniel ran over to his window, looked out into the garden. He saw something like an oily black shadow slithering over the ground, covering the shrubs and fading flowers, pouring around the trees. Raven came after it, his long paws hardly seeming to touch the ground. Then Daniel saw his father coming out of the French windows of the back parlour. He looked as if he'd stepped from a photograph of a younger version of himself. In his hands, he carried a gun. Verity's cries came from the house, but they were m.u.f.fled as if she was being restrained.

Louis raised the gun.

The image hit Daniel like a physical slap. Louis was twenty-two, in South Africa, newly married. Verity hadn't yet been born. And there was silly Janine, with her drawling English speech, her darlings', her neat, pressed khaki clothes. Louis, in bright sunlight, raised a gun and fired it. In the background, the c.h.i.n.k of ice against gla.s.s, a stuttering radio sound. The smell of gunfire. And death. Something red.

The gun went off.

Raven jumped at least ten feet into the air, somersaulted, fell heavily back to earth. There was a confusion of screaming and shouting, a blur of movement. Daniel found he had slumped against the window sill, half kneeling. Weakly, he dragged himself to his feet. It was important to get out of the house, he knew that, yet the heat tugged at his body, clawing him down. Feebly, he crawled over the splintered furniture at the threshold to his room, and stumbled across the short landing. From downstairs, came the sound of a woman weeping inconsolably. He thought of his mother as he felt his way dizzily down the stairs.

He could see the front door, no longer closed, but standing ajar. Daniel ran towards it, the mad scramble of nightmare, when the limbs flail, the breath aches in the chest, but no ground seems to be covered. His hands were reaching, reaching for the outside. He nearly had it.

Barbara Eager appeared from the study, carrying another of Louis' old guns in her hand. She did not try to shoot Daniel, but smacked him full in the face with the b.u.t.t of the weapon. He crumpled to the ground without a sound.

Barbara stood over him, peering down as if unable to identify the object at her feet.

Louis appeared from the parlour. He took the gun from their hands.

We have to confine them both,' he said.

Barbara looked up at him. A small voice inside her wanted to ask, But what are we doing, Louis? Why are we doing this?'

Instead, she helped Louis to lift his son. Effortlessly, Louis threw the inert body over his shoulder. Bring the girl,' he said shortly.

Not Verity, not any more: just the girl'.

Barbara went into the study. Verity was slumped over her father's desk, holding a tissue to her nose, which was still bleeding. She was weeping. The gun cabinet hung open behind her.

Come along,' Barbara said, in a ghost of her former voice.

Verity raised her head. f.u.c.k off, you old b.i.t.c.h!'

Barbara walked to the desk, picked up a heavy book which lay upon it, and without hesitation hit Verity over the head with it. The girl cried out and fell out of the chair to lie twitching upon the floor. Barbara peered down at her dispa.s.sionately. It looked as if Verity was still conscious, but dazed. Swiftly, Barbara grabbed hold of the girl's arms and dragged her to the door. Deep within Barbara's mind, a shocked but weak voice, was protesting, What are you doing? Why are you doing this? but she ignored it. There were certain things that needed to be done now: it was part of the change in Barbara's life that had been initiated in the forest. There could be no going back.

As Barbara was dragging Verity across the hallway, Louis reappeared from the back corridor. Without saying anything, he helped Barbara carry his daughter to the cellar entrance, which stood opposite the door to the kitchen. After placing Verity's barely moving body on the top step of the cellar, Louis shut the door and locked it. He and Barbara stared at one another for a few moments, but it seemed impossible to communicate. Something was missing.

Othman came into the kitchen from the garden. He glanced at the doorway, where Barbara and Louis were held in a kind of stasis, staring expressionlessly at one another. He ran water from the tap, splashed it onto his scratched face. Then he dried himself on a tea-towel. The messiness of the past quarter hour distressed him. He disliked overt violence.

Make us all something to eat,' he told them, and walked past them. There was blood on the hall floor. Stepping daintily over it, Othman went to close the front door, before going into the lounge, where he made himself comfortable on the sofa. While Barbara and Louis silently prepared a meal, he watched TV, flicking across the channels with the remote control. His face stung a little where the animal had clawed him. He needed to reorganise his thoughts. Things had gone well, although he would have preferred less violence. Daniel was more resistant than he'd antic.i.p.ated. Still, something else nagged at his mind. He felt paranoid and uneasy. I've been too loud, he thought, and remembered the sensation of being able to walk through solid objects. He felt he must have done that many times before in dreams, but never in reality. Such overt paranormal behaviour would act like a beacon. Was it a sense of pursuit that now scratched at his mind? He walked to the window and looked out. Little Moor looked as it always had, sleepy and serene, yet somewhere, somewhere, Othman sensed imminence and approach. He had betrayed his presence and someone out there had perceived it.

Lily heard the sound of a cat fight while she was in the kitchen stirring spaghetti round a saucepan. She went to the kitchen window and leaned over the sink, trying to see the cause of the row. Her own cats occasionally got into skirmishes with other local felines. Once a trip to the vet in Patterham had been necessary.

She could see two of her own cats, Minda and t.i.tus sitting upright on the front lawn, their postures that of alertness. Lily went out into the garden. The evening was oppressive, thick with impending storm. Minda and t.i.tus ran to her as she approached them, wound around her legs, mewing loudly. What is it?' she said. t.i.tus lowered himself to the ground, and growled at the hedge. Lily hunkered down, tried to peer into the shadows. She saw a flash, heard a long, sinister hiss.

Oh, we have a visitor, do we!' She picked up a garden rake which was lying on the lawn, discarded after a half-hearted attempted at gathering leaves. With this, she poked at the interloper in the hedge. Her a.s.sault elicited a frenzy of hissing and spitting, but the animal did not move. Its furious snarls sank to a monotonous yowl, which Lily recognised as distress. Perhaps Minda or t.i.tus had already dealt with the unwanted visitor. Lily put down the rake. The animal had stopped yowling now, and seemed to be panting. She edged forward, murmuring soothing sounds. Perhaps the cat had been run over in the lane and had crawled into the hedge seeking sanctuary. She wished Owen was home, but she had asked him to go to the supermarket to fetch some groceries. She would have to deal with this alone. What if the cat was badly injured? What could she do? Cautiously, she extended a hand, expecting the creature to lash out at her in terror, but the cat didn't move. It was a big, black, long-haired animal, similar to the one she and Owen and Daniel had seen at Long Eden. Could this be Verity's cat? She touched its head, and the cat began to purr, the ragged, desperate purr of pain. Gently, Lily stroked it. She would have to move it, even if that risked further injury. As she was contemplating how to do this, the cat tried to rise to its feet. It leaned against her arm, almost as if it sensed she was trying to help it. Lily put her hands rounds its body behind its front legs and gently pulled. The cat yowled in pain, but strained to come to her. It was so heavy. As it emerged from the shadow of the hedge, it seemed to grow before her eyes. She would have to try and pick it up. The cat remained pa.s.sive as she hefted it into her arms. It was like trying to carry a child. There was wetness on the fur around the back legs. Blood? In the twilight, it was difficult to tell.

Staggering, and followed by Minda and t.i.tus, Lily carried the injured cat into the cottage. Carefully, she put it down on the kitchen table, amid a jumble of unwashed plates and scattered newspapers. The cat lay on its side, its head raised, its enormous orange eyes gazing at her. Lily stroked it while she tried to locate the injury. She used a fork to part its fur, aware that her makes.h.i.+ft instrument was covered in tomato sauce and hardly sterile, but it seemed better than probing with clumsy fingers. There seemed to be a flesh wound on the back leg. Could be a burst abscess, she supposed, or a wire tear, perhaps even a bite. She hoped the cat would allow her to bathe the wound with salt water.

It lay quietly while she cut away some of its long fur with kitchen scissors. She could see the animal was amazingly well-muscled. Its hind leg was as st.u.r.dy as a dog's. You are good,' she murmured. She had to go upstairs to find some cotton wool, but the cat did not move while she was out of the room. As she cleaned the wound, it rested its head on the table and closed its eyes. This worried Lily for a moment, because it was not typical cat behaviour. Her cats were more likely to struggle and attack when they were hurt. This one seemed to understand her ministrations were necessary, or was it simply weak and dying? The wound did not look too bad. It was long and quite wide, although not deep. Also, there was not as much bleeding as she would have expected. She felt the cat shuddering as the salt water went into the wound, but it kept still and made no sound, other than the occasional soft gibber. It was obviously in shock. Lily decided to move the cat to the parlour, where it could lie on a blanket. She was just about to see to this, when she felt a strong compulsion to hide the cat in her mother's bedroom. She paused. This thought was absurd. Why should she think that? However, the drive was too strong to ignore. It did look like Verity's cat, and surely there weren't two like this around Little Moor. Perhaps she should call Low Mede and tell Verity what had happened. Again, as she moved towards the phone, something in her mind seemed to prevent her from picking it up. No, she wouldn't call Verity. That was not a good idea.

Nonplussed, she stared at the cat for a few moments. It raised its head and stared back at her, its eyes round. All right,' she said, realising, as she spoke, that the idea about the hiding place and the decision not to call Verity had come from the cat itself. At any other time, Lily would have chided herself for her fantasies, but too much had happened recently for her to ignore this idea, however bizarre it seemed. She went back to the table, and stroked the cat's head again. It nudged her gently, purring once more. I wish you could talk to me,' Lily said. What kind of cat are you?' The cat blinked at her slowly.

Verity and Daniel hugged one another in the darkness. The light switch was outside the door, at the top of the steps. Both of them had wept, both of them were afraid. Daniel's forehead had been bleeding but the flow seemed to have congealed now. Still, he seemed feverish. Verity was worried he might have concussion or a fractured skull. Her own head ached from Barbara's blow with the book. Daniel was sleeping now. He twitched in his sister's arms, dreaming. What would happen to them? Would someone come looking for them? Verity's main hope had been Raven, but she knew her father had shot at the cat in the garden. Had he survived? She dared not think otherwise. Raven was powerful. Surely, he couldn't be killed so easily. Earlier that day, Verity had called Mrs Roan and told her not to come to work for a few days. She had done this to give herself time to formulate a believable story about her father and to get her own head together, but in retrospect, cancelling the cook had been a stupid idea. She and Daniel needed allies now. Daniel had murmured something about how Owen Winter would find them. They had only to wait. Verity couldn't bear to argue with him, but privately, she wondered how Winter could guess where they were. Louis would make up an excuse about their absence, and Owen could hardly come rampaging into the house to search for them.

Daniel had tried to explain to his sister what kind of creature Othman was. Verity supposed this was no more unlikely than all the things she'd experienced over the last week or so. At least Othman hadn't killed them outright. Did that mean he never would? What were his plans for the family exactly? Verity knew that Louis and Barbara had surrendered all autonomy to Othman, whereas she had been able to retain a certain amount of liberty. Othman thought he'd achieved control of her, but he'd been wrong. Now, she wished she hadn't tried to help Daniel in the hallway. If she was still free, and pretending to be obedient, she might have found out what was going on and been able to fetch a.s.sistance. Also, because of this error, Raven had been either wounded or killed. She'd ruined everything. Too many mistakes, Verity thought. That's the story of my f.u.c.king life!

Above Verity and Daniel, in the lounge of Low Mede, Peverel Othman watched Barbara and Louis make love on the rug before the log-effect gas fire. He took some satisfaction from their relief, from Louis' almost tearful grat.i.tude for the body he now inhabited. Othman felt he should go and visit the Winters, although for some reason, he felt compelled to stay at Low Mede. He knew he would feel vulnerable beyond its walls. He was not strong enough at the moment to control Lily and Owen. If only the oppressive heat would break in thunder and rain. He felt the weather conditions were draining him. Also, the wounds he'd received from Verity's cat were still throbbing. He knew it was no ordinary animal, and could only a.s.sume it had some connection with the guardian of Long Eden. He could only conjecture as to why it had attacked him. Surely, it should have recognised him as Grigori? Othman felt very tired. Memories tugged at his mind, which he had forcibly to repress. He must not fall apart now. They would swamp him. All of them. Whatever they were.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Tuesday, October: Patterham Another hotel, this one dingy and utterly human. Aninka forced herself to like it, although in her heart she missed the opulence of the Grigori safe-house in London. They had separate rooms; nasty, functional, plastic rooms. What place is this?' Aninka asked, as they met in the undersized lounge', after dumping their baggage in their respective rooms.

Patterham,' Lahash replied. We are close now to our target.'

Aninka shuddered involuntarily. She sipped from her warm gin; there was no ice available. Lahash wouldn't tell her what was going to happen, and she dared not guess. Othman was nearby, causing trouble, no doubt. Perhaps he'd found another youthful Grigori like herself to seduce and corrupt. Are any of your people left around here?' she asked Lahash.

He shook his head, then shrugged. There are not supposed to be, but I have no idea, really.' He seemed awkward in the confined s.p.a.ce of the room, too gangly. His clothes had fitted him perfectly in London, now they seemed too small, the arms of his jacket too short. Taziel simply looked ill. He wore his shades again, but Aninka had seen the state of his eyes as he'd got out of the car: red-rimmed and blue-smudged beneath. Aninka wondered what she looked like herself. Did her face bear evidence of anxiety and exhaustion? She didn't feel exhausted. In fact, she felt quite energetic. Her heart was beating too fast continually. She likened it to the state of her body when she was about to leave home to meet someone she found very attractive, no, someone she loved. Antic.i.p.ation, but with a delicious undercurrent of fear of rejection. Did her heart harbour some secret agenda? She sipped her drink again. She wanted to ask Lahash what his family had done to deserve exile, but knew she'd be invading his privacy. If he wanted to tell them, he would. That much had been established on the journey north.

Lahash finished his beer, a bottled variety poured into a gla.s.s, without the benefit of prior refrigeration. There are some things I have to see to.' He stood up.

Aninka did not relish the thought of being left alone with Taziel Levantine, who despite brief periods of sociability, was inclined to taciturn silence. Can I help?'

Lahash glanced at Taziel. I'd prefer it if you'd stay here.' He gave her a significant glance. OK, she was to be a babysitter.

She shrugged. Very well. Perhaps we could look around the town.' On the way to the hotel, she'd seen little to interest her, but perhaps Taziel might be more tolerable in the open air.

Lahash pulled a rueful face. I'm sorry, but I think it would be better if you remained here. There's a possibility Othman might frequent this town. We don't want him to see either you or Taziel here.'

Of course.' Aninka sighed. I suppose we'll just have to sit here drinking warm alcohol.'

There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.' Lahash grinned. I shan't be long.'

Where are you going?'

To meet with some people. Our reinforcements, if you like.'

Who are they?'