Last to Rise(70)

I crouched down in front of him, glad for the distraction. After a minute or two, his eyes came back to here.



“What did you see?” I asked.



“Storad in Top of the World. Storad everywhere. Not as ghostly this time. I think… I think it’s becoming more true, or more possible?”



I patted his arm, a pathetic attempt at making him not worry. I mean, we were screwed and it was obvious. Maybe Pasha had got the better deal – quick, probably fairly painless except what he’d used to fire up his juice. Namrat was going to be busy, already was, and many of those he ate would take longer. “Maybe. Anything else? How did they, er, do they get in? Did you see us?”



He frowned, maybe trying to make sense of what he’d seen. “Through the gates, how else? And they cut their way up and… and… there was blood and something squealing… and…”



“All right. It’s all right, it hasn’t happened.” Yet, I added to myself. “What else?”



“They all rise.”



“What?”



“I don’t know. Someone says it, only I couldn’t see who, or what they meant. Just, they all rise. You’re not there, I don’t think. You’re… I don’t know. It seems stupid.” He risked a strange look at me. “I mean, you know, what with you hating the Goddess and everything.” The way he said it, it sounded like a bewildered accusation.



“How about you tell me, and I’ll tell you if it sounds stupid?”



“I don’t know exactly. But you were standing in a temple, looking up at the saints and martyrs. You weren’t praying but… you looked weird.”



Well, I would if I was looking at saints and martyrs. I was probably thinking what a bunch of silly sods they were. I didn’t say that to Allit, because he looked worried enough as it was.



“I wish I could do stuff like you, or like Pasha – like he did, I mean. Useful things. What use is this, when I can’t even say for sure it’s true, it will happen? It’s stupid.”



“Hey, look at me.” I gave him a bit of a shake, just enough to make him listen past the frustration that was scrunching his face. “You can do magic. You know how many people can say that? Not many, not many at all. It may not seem useful now, but you’ll find other ways of using it, maybe find your Minor too. Or maybe this is your Minor and you’ll figure out what your Major is. But no matter what, I bet you there’s no other kid in this city who can do what you just did. And it does help.” I wasn’t even lying about that, because he’d given me an idea. “If we know, or are pretty sure, that a: they’re going to get in and b: they’re going to head for Top of the World, then there are things we can do. Not waste men trying to stop them, if we know they can’t. Not worry so much about the tunnels – they’d hardly collapse the city if they’re going to be in it. Evacuate between the gate and Top of the World, excepting the guards, those with means to defend themselves. Try to get some people out of the Mishan gate, maybe. If they’ll take us, which they may not. You did good, Allit. You did good. You keep trying, keep looking. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the person that saves the whole city.”



Yeah, I know. Doesn’t really sound like me. But my brain seemed to have taken on a wedge of darkness and talking to Allit like that, seeing the worry fade, at least a bit, helped. Not much, but frankly right then I would have taken anything, anything at all to let a little light into my head. Besides, the boy had done good. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and he’d seen – he’d seen Pasha use the machine, and he’d been right about that, and listening to him had brought me back a bit of resolve. A bit of light and hope when all had been black and hopeless.



I took him with me to the lab to talk to Perak and Malaki, wanting someone next to me when I couldn’t have Pasha, and between us we came up with something. I hesitate to call it a plan, because mostly it was guesswork and hoping, but it was something at least.



There was a fair bit of arguing involved, mainly about me and whether Perak was going to allow me to use any magic. I shouldn’t, I knew that. The edges of my vision were dark and blurred, making everyone seem somehow twisted. Faces darkened, eyes shadowed, till I began to wonder who was friend and who was foe. The voice of the black kept up a constant sweet singing in my head, luring me, tempting me. I shouldn’t, but Pasha’s face haunted me. Triumphant, how could death be triumphant? But he’d done it, even when he knew he shouldn’t, that it could kill him. He’d done it for what he believed in, for what he loved, and so I had to too or I was betraying him, or so it felt.