had made him hunt them down and dispatch them, each and every one; it wasn’t one of his more pleasant memories. “Hard to say whether they’re more terrified of me or of the fae. Not a good way to start out. Still, they’re all positives on one scale or another, so there’s hope, right? As of yesterday—”
He saw her stiffen suddenly. “Ciani? What is it?”
“Current’s shifted,” she whispered. Her face was pale. “Can’t you see?”
Rather than state the obvious—that only an adept could see such things without conscious effort—he worked a quick Seeing and observed the earth-fae himself. But if there was any change in the leisurely flow of that force about their feet, it was far too subtle for his conjured vision to make out. “I can‘t—”
She gripped his arm with fingers that were suddenly cold. “We need to warn—”
An alarm siren pierced the dusk. A horrendous screeching noise that wailed like a banshee down the narrow stone streets, and echoed from the brickwork and plaster that surrounded them until the very air was vibrating shrilly. Damien covered an ear with one hand, tried to reach the other without dropping all his purchases. The sound was a physical assault—and a painfully effective one.
Whoever designed that siren, he thought, must have served his apprenticeship in hell.
Then, just as quickly, the sound was gone. He took his hand down nervously, ready to hold it to his head again if anything even remotely similar started up. But she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Come on,” she whispered. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, but a gesture made it clear what she wanted. “Come with me.”
She urged him forward, and he went. Running by her side, down streets that were suddenly filled with people. Dozens of people, in all stages of dress and activity: working folk with their dinner plates in hand, children clutching at homework sheets, women with babies nursing at their breasts—even one woman with a hand full of playing cards, who rearranged them as she walked. Pouring out of the houses and shops that lined Jaggonath’s narrow streets like insects out of a collapsed hive. Which brought to mind other images—
He stopped, and forced her to stop with him. His eyes were still Worked enough to let him see the current that swirled about their feet, though the image was little more than a shadow of his former vision. He checked the flow again, felt his heart stop for an instant. It had changed. He could see it. Not in direction, nor in speed of flow, but in intensity.... He gripped her hand tightly. There was less of it than there should have been, less of it than any natural tide could have prompted. It was as if the fae itself were withdrawing from this place, gathering itself elsewhere to break, with a tsunami’s sudden force—
“Earthquake?” he whispered. Aghast—and awed—by the revelation.
“Come on,” she answered. And dragged him forward.
They ran until they reached the north end of the street, where it widened into a sizable shopping plaza. She stopped there, breathless, and bade him do the same. There were already several hundred people gathered in the small cobblestoned square, and more were arriving each minute. The horses that were tethered there pulled nervously at their reins, nostrils twitching as if trying to catch the scent of danger. Even as Damien and Ciani entered the tiny square the hanging signs of several shops began to swing, and a crash of glass sounded through one open doorway. Shopkeepers exited the buildings hurriedly with precious items clutched in their arms—crystal, porcelain, delicate sculptures—as the signs above them swung even more wildly, and the panicked animals fought for their freedom.
“You had warning,” he whispered. What an incredible concept! He was accustomed to regarding Ernan history as a series of failures and losses—but here was real triumph, and over Nature herself! Their ancestors on
He saw her stiffen suddenly. “Ciani? What is it?”
“Current’s shifted,” she whispered. Her face was pale. “Can’t you see?”
Rather than state the obvious—that only an adept could see such things without conscious effort—he worked a quick Seeing and observed the earth-fae himself. But if there was any change in the leisurely flow of that force about their feet, it was far too subtle for his conjured vision to make out. “I can‘t—”
She gripped his arm with fingers that were suddenly cold. “We need to warn—”
An alarm siren pierced the dusk. A horrendous screeching noise that wailed like a banshee down the narrow stone streets, and echoed from the brickwork and plaster that surrounded them until the very air was vibrating shrilly. Damien covered an ear with one hand, tried to reach the other without dropping all his purchases. The sound was a physical assault—and a painfully effective one.
Whoever designed that siren, he thought, must have served his apprenticeship in hell.
Then, just as quickly, the sound was gone. He took his hand down nervously, ready to hold it to his head again if anything even remotely similar started up. But she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Come on,” she whispered. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, but a gesture made it clear what she wanted. “Come with me.”
She urged him forward, and he went. Running by her side, down streets that were suddenly filled with people. Dozens of people, in all stages of dress and activity: working folk with their dinner plates in hand, children clutching at homework sheets, women with babies nursing at their breasts—even one woman with a hand full of playing cards, who rearranged them as she walked. Pouring out of the houses and shops that lined Jaggonath’s narrow streets like insects out of a collapsed hive. Which brought to mind other images—
He stopped, and forced her to stop with him. His eyes were still Worked enough to let him see the current that swirled about their feet, though the image was little more than a shadow of his former vision. He checked the flow again, felt his heart stop for an instant. It had changed. He could see it. Not in direction, nor in speed of flow, but in intensity.... He gripped her hand tightly. There was less of it than there should have been, less of it than any natural tide could have prompted. It was as if the fae itself were withdrawing from this place, gathering itself elsewhere to break, with a tsunami’s sudden force—
“Earthquake?” he whispered. Aghast—and awed—by the revelation.
“Come on,” she answered. And dragged him forward.
They ran until they reached the north end of the street, where it widened into a sizable shopping plaza. She stopped there, breathless, and bade him do the same. There were already several hundred people gathered in the small cobblestoned square, and more were arriving each minute. The horses that were tethered there pulled nervously at their reins, nostrils twitching as if trying to catch the scent of danger. Even as Damien and Ciani entered the tiny square the hanging signs of several shops began to swing, and a crash of glass sounded through one open doorway. Shopkeepers exited the buildings hurriedly with precious items clutched in their arms—crystal, porcelain, delicate sculptures—as the signs above them swung even more wildly, and the panicked animals fought for their freedom.
“You had warning,” he whispered. What an incredible concept! He was accustomed to regarding Ernan history as a series of failures and losses—but here was real triumph, and over Nature herself! Their ancestors on
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