652.

Whatever this "depth" was, it did not feel in the least foreign, but very much a part of him, and Goldman realised that he'd been living a half-life to this point. Now he felt more the priest than the guild master, more the mystic than the hard-talking and scheming Master of Guilds.

He felt as if his spirit had come home.

Goldman was certainly home in body. He knew Carlon better than he knew the contours of his favourite pillow. He'd been born in this city, had spent his childhood scrambling about its roofs and creeping through its cellars, had spent his youth learning its idiosyncrasies in the city workshops, and had spent his adulthood exploiting those idiosyncrasies for the gain of the city's guildsmen and traders.

Now he put a lifetime of knowledge, plus his new-found "depth", to good use. The cats helped Goldman, as the Alaunt helped the women. They found the secret places where parents had hidden children, and the cunningly disguised doors that led to smoke-filled closets filled with the hidden.

They also invariably led Goldman through kitchens to get to where they had to go, but when Goldman clapped his hands and told them to get to the business at hand, they would do so uncomplainingly, even though they flicked their tails in disgust.

But Goldman had far more in mind than going through his section of the city room by room. Already he could hear buildings crashing down as walls and supports burned through. Drago may have cleared the city of much of the choking smoke, but he could do nothing about the spreading flames through tight-packed tenements that shared walls and roofs.

Goldman knew this was no time for a leisurely stroll through the deathtrap his beloved city had become.

"ProudFlight," Goldman said to the Lake Guard Lieutenant who led the group of guardsmen and women *653 *.

WingRidge had a.s.signed Goldman. "We are within two blocks of the Wool Weavers Guild Hall. Get me there."

"But -"

"Get me there, and then get on with your task of getting people into the doorway."

"And you?"

Goldman would have grinned, save the situation was getting more desperate by the moment. "Get me to that Hall, and you shall see."

They moved into the street, wrapping spare cloths about their heads as some protection against the thickening fumes. Now that Drago's door was again evacuating people, the smoke was rapidly rebuilding to a point where it was causing serious difficulty in breathing. Burning cinders and ash drifted down from fiery buildings, and ProudFlight spread a wing over Goldman to protect him, disregarding the cinders that burned holes through his feathers.

Fortunately, the streets they took were not badly obstructed by burning debris, and they reached the Wool Weaver's Guild Hall in a relatively short time. Thank the G.o.ds, Goldman thought, that the Wool Weavers were a rich enough guild to build with brick rather than wood and shingle!

"Leave me," he said to ProudFlight, gasping for breath. "I will be safe enough here for the moment. Fetch me ... fetch me when the bells stop."

"The bells?"

"When the bells stop Now, go!"

Goldman gave ProudFlight a shove, and after a glance to make sure the Master of the Guilds had entered the building, the birdman ran back down the street towards the block his command were currently evacuating.

Goldman stumbled inside the building, and stood for a moment to orientate himself. The Guild Hall was not yet seriously alight, but its interior was nevertheless filled with the smoke and cinders of the conflagration to either side, and Goldman knew he couldn't waste time by running aimlessly from room to room.

Ah! There! Goldman walked as fast as he could through the shifting, grey-filled gloom, keeping a hand on a wall for direction and support.

He reached a small and almost hidden door, opened it, and climbed the stairway it revealed.

Drago glanced over his shoulder at the group of people that Herme herded into the room. They stared at the glowing door, then walked through without question, glad enough to escape the certain death that awaited them in Carlon.

He returned his gaze to the sight out the window. The Maze was evident as darker smudges of grey under the silvery waters of Grail Lake.

"How long?" he asked WingRidge standing beside him.

"It will take some days, perhaps a week, to fully emerge," WingRidge said. "It will gauge its rising to the approach of the Demons."

Drago nodded absently, his attention now focused on what he could feel of the TimeKeepers. They were still distant, many days travel away . . . but they were very, very angry.

Enraged.

"StarSon!" WingRidge barked, and Drago leapt out of his reverie, surprised not only by the tone in WingRidge's voice, but by the t.i.tle.

However much Drago had thought he'd accepted it, reminders of his heritage still came as uncomfortable shocks.

"StarSon!" WingRidge said again. "Look!"

Drago stared to where the captain of the Lake Guard pointed, and drew his breath in sharply in shock.

"Dear G.o.ds!" he whispered.

The gates of Carlon were rocking back and forth, back and forth, and Drago realised the guards who manned and maintained them were either dead or gone.

* 655 *As he watched they broke asunder, and a surging tide of maddened animals seethed through into the streets of Carlon. Then he, as WingRidge, jumped in further surprise. A peal of bells had sounded over the burning city.

Goldman gritted his teeth and hoped he remembered the correct clarion. The guildsmen of Carlon lived their days according to the dictates of the sundry guildhall bells. The bells rang out the hours, the workday, the holidays, the watches, the curfew, and - unknown to most of the aristocracy of the city - they also rang out coded messages.

Goldman had learned the code and the method of ringing as a child, but he'd not done this for many years, and he hoped that he got the code right.

He rang a clarion of escape, of doorways, and of location. The bells demanded that guild-folk everywhere hark to their message, and move those they were with through the streets and whatever buildings still stood towards the doorways. Into his clarion, Goldman put something a little bit extra. A bit of depth. A degree of compulsion. Anyone hearing the bells, and understanding their message, would be forced to act.

Goldman finished a clarion and paused to heave in some breath. Had any heard? Had they understood? Had -.

From somewhere else in the fiery, smoke-filled city, another clarion of bells rang out. Goldman grinned weakly in relief. Someone had heard him, and he had got the message right, for now a guildsman far distant was repeating the message.

Another set of bells started, slightly closer this time, and Goldman laughed out loud as he saw a man hustle his family and neighbours down a steep ladder from their roof and lead them towards the building where Goldman had erected his doorway.

Another family rushed from a doorway.

Not everyone would understand the bells, but there would be enough guildsmen to interpret.

656.

ProudFlight appeared in the street, glanced up at the window where Goldman's face was framed, and beckoned him down.

"We have trouble," ProudFlight said tersely as Goldman joined him.

"What?"

ProudFlight did not have time to answer, for at that moment a huge pig ran around a corner, its hooves scrabbling for purchase on the cobbles.

In the distance, a woman screamed. The sound was cut off halfway through.

"The gates have fallen," ProudFlight said, and Goldman felt cold fear slither through his belly.

"Gustus!" Drago yelled, "continue with the evacuation! Herme! Follow me!"

"What can we do?" Herme said, running after Drago as he rushed through the door.

Once outside their progress slowed. The hallways of the palace were full of people moving towards the enchanted doorway, and Drago, Herme, and the feathered lizard which had followed its master, had to push bodily though.

Its crest was held high, and it had ruffled out its feathers so that it appeared a third again as large.

"What can we do?" Drago said harshly. "Not much, save protect these people as well as we are able."

WingRidge caught up with them. "Do you want me to take the Lake Guard away from their duties helping those trapped?" Drago shook his head. "Their only hope is to get through that doorway as fast as they can. WingRidge, if you serve me as you say you do, then get those people through*."

WingRidge nodded curtly, then vanished among the crowd.

"And what are we going to do, Drago?" Herme asked.

"Against several hundred thousand maddened beasts? Well, I don't intend to hold them off single-handedly, if that's * 657*

what you thought, Herme. Come on! No time for detailed explanations."

And what would he do? Drago thought as he and Herme jerked to a halt in the courtyard of the palace. Outside the courtyard gates they could see the streets seething with a ma.s.s of animals and as they watched several sheep, a goat and a half-grown b.i.t.c.h ran inside the gates, snuffling carefully about the shadows.

He could draw another doorway - but where could he send them? Wherever he chose, he would risk a ma.s.s of them escaping into Spiredore . . . and that thought did not bear thinking about, not with thousands of Acharites pa.s.sing through each minute.

"Drago?" Herme prompted. One of the sheep had spotted them, and stood completely still in the centre of the courtyard, staring.

Its lower jaw fell open and it drooled.

Somewhere in a distant street a man screeched in horrified surprise, wailed in agony, and then fell silent.

"Drago?"

The sheep took a step forward, and then another one.

Drago's hand tightened about the staff, but he called forth no enchantment.

What should he do? G.o.ds, but he wished he'd not sent Katie back to Sanctuary!

The sheep suddenly launched an attack. It leapt forward, wailing, its teeth bared, b.l.o.o.d.y foam frothing from its mouth. Its movement attracted the attention of the other sheep, the goat and the b.i.t.c.h, and they, too, slunk slack- jawed towards where Drago and Herme stood in the doorway.

"For G.o.ds' sakes, man!" Herme said, grabbing Drago's arm. "Get back inside!"

In answer, Drago seized Herme, pushed him back through the door, and pulled it shut.

In the same instant the sheep reached him, and in one 658 *.

smooth movement Drago brought the staff around and cracked the sheep over the head with it. The lizard sunk its teeth into the wool at the sheep's throat and began to shake the creature.

Drago flinched as b.l.o.o.d.y foam from the sheep's mouth splattered across his face, then, coming to an instant decision, altered his grip about the staff, and then drew a symbol in the air.

The lizard, still with his jaws locked into the sheep's neck, struggled to raise a foreclaw, but Drago grabbed it.

"No."

The sheep convulsed, and b.l.o.o.d.y specks flew through the air. Drago ducked his head to try and avoid them, and then fell to the ground as the goat leaped over lizard and sheep, its teeth snapping a bare handspan from Drago's face.

The goat hit the closed door with an audible thud, landing on its side on the stone step and rolling heavily against Drago.

Drago struck it a heavy blow to the head, and had raised the staff again when he - as every other living creature within Carlon, sane or not - halted transfixed.

A heavy voice sounded over the city. It was thick and menacing, and sounded as if it spoke through .. . water.

Attend!

Both sheep and goat stopped struggling, and the other creatures in the courtyard froze.

Attend!

Drago slowly raised himself to his feet. He put a hand on the lizard's head, and it released the sheep, standing itself and looking about. Every creature they could see had stopped in its tracks. Eyes were narrowed, ears c.o.c.ked, heads tilted to one side.

Listening.

/ command you, attend!

No-one noticed Drago's lips moving very, very slightly.

659.

The pig had been about to attack Goldman and ProudFlight when the voice sounded.

It stopped some three paces from where both men huddled against a wall, ProudFlight with his sword drawn, and turned very slightly towards the Lake side of the city, listening intently.

/ command you, attend!

"What is that?" ProudFlight said, shaking his head slightly. Goldman tilted his head and spoke very, very quietly into ProudFlight's ear. "It is an enchantment."

Faraday had also halted. The room she stood in was packed with people about to move through the doorway, now standing still and confused.

As Goldman, she recognised the voice for what it was.

"Quick, go through!" she said, putting her hand in the small of the back of the person standing next to her and pushing none too gently. "Quick, or the people behind you will die!"

The line began moving again.

The brown and cream badger raised his snout from the remains of the old woman he'd cornered coming out of a doorway, and snuffled the air.

/ command you, attend!