The ship came to rest amidst the desolation of the upper city, dwarfing even the proudest of the manses crowning Wylhome’s slopes. Even the houses of the wealthy had now succumbed to the battering waves. A third wave had struck Wylhome not long after Telos’s argument with Beltanus. It seemed to be the last, for all had been quiet now for half an hour. The Daimon beneath the waters had reduced the once-bustling port-city to sea-drowned ruins in the space of two hours.

  The ship’s ramp lowered with a splash into the ankle deep oceanwater still flooding the avenues. The sky-ship expelled heat and fumes with a dire hiss like an irate reptile cooling itself in heat. Beltanus stood gravely by the exit, regarding Telos with such a quixotic mixture of emotions, Telos wondered whether he understood anything about the god at all.

  Telos could not help but wonder what the Rynu’nakar society was like. If their feelings ran so deeply, so volcanically, it was a wonder they had any functioning society at all, let alone one governed by such strict rules that even the most psychopathic of their number seemed forced to adhere to. He supposed that was perhaps why the Tablet of Law existed; such a powerful and passionate people must needs be governed or all was lost.

  “We shall meet you at Dreamholding in three days’ time,” Beltanus reiterated. “We will wait no longer than that.”

  “It is kind of you to give us this chance,” Telos said.

  Beltanus put a hand on his shoulder. There was something strangely paternal about it, as though, because he had surgically remoudled Telos, he now regarded him as a child. That made Telos wonder who Beltanus’s father was, whether he even had a father. There was so little he understood about the gods and their long, long lives.

  “Remember, Telos,” Beltanus whispered, as though reading his thoughts. “You look like a man, but you are not one, nor can ever go back to being one.” Then, to Telos’s astonishment, the cold Lord of Iron and Metal brought Telos into an embrace. Telos felt the supernatural warmth of the god, as though his blood were liquid fire, running through veins of adamantium. “Let this be both acknowledgement and farewell of the man you were,” the god said.

  They parted. To cover his abashment, Telos said:

  “Why, Beltanus, you are quite the poet. You should write a book!”

  The god laughed, though far more gently than before.

  “O fall the things I have made, that book was the hardest. There is nothing these hands cannot shape. Metal obeys my commands like the loyalist servant. But words? Words are treacherous.” The god stepped closer, his grip on Telos’s shoulder tightening. “You wield them well, Telos. But do not become drunk on their power. And do not make me regret this trust I place in you.”

  With that, Beltanus released him. Telos nodded. He walked down the ramp into the ankle-deep waters. Behind him, the ship glowered and fumed, all gleaming perfection save for one place where a huge rend, the size of a horse, had been carved into its side—the wound left by the Daimon. Just how strong are Daimons that they can tear supernatural metal? Telos wondered. And control the elements, too.

  Near his feet, an octopus plashed, its limbs flailing helplessly as the last of its strength was exhausted. He tried not to think of it as a bad omen.

  He expected to feel the cold, but his suit of hydra scales protected him crown to toe. Currently, he had let down the glass visor, which could fold itself away into a seeming nonexistence, but with the depress of a simple button on the side of his neck, it would unfurl again and cover his face.

  Ylia and the others were not so lucky. The innkeeper let out a shiver as her boots were soaked through once more. Jubal was stoically silent as he tramped into the waters. Xheng just sighed. Telos turned back one last time to see Danyil and Beltanus stood next to one another. Danyil raised a hand in farewell. Telos answered with a wave. Then the ramp of the sky-ship withdrew, and with a gout of flame and a booming roar the ship rose into the sky, vanishing beyond cloud.

  “Did I dream that?” Xheng muttered.

  “The food would have been better in a dream,” Telos said.

  Ylia laughed, which Telos could not deny sent a thrill through him. A woman’s laughter was a rare drug indeed, one that was easily addictive.

  “Where to, now?” Jubal said.

  Telos pointed to a manse larger than the rest, perhaps the only one that had withstood the sea’s wrath. It was surrounded on all sides by a high wall. Its turrets gleamed palely, like unearthed Daimonic remains.

  “Danyil said he could sense another sorcerer in that building. It seems likely it is Qala. Beltanus also confirmed there are at least ten others with her.”

  “How did he do that?” Ylia asked.

  “Some technology that finds the heat of living bodies,” Telos said. “I do not pretend to undersand it.”

  “Clearly, the gods did not augment your intelligence then,” Ylia said. “A pity.”

  “I still have not received a thank you for saving your life.”

  “Were they always like this?” Xheng said to Jubal.

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  The theront grunted.

  “They have become more insufferable in reunion.”

  “Jubal? I thought you were my friend?” Telos said, with mock outrage.

  The theront grinned. “Friends must be honest with each other, is that not so?”

  “You are slyer than you look, my theront friend.”

  Jubal showed brilliant teeth.

  “Always be more than your enemies think.”

  “How are we doing this?” Ylia said. “If they have taken Qala, then we can hardly walk in via the front door of the manse. Those mercenaries were highly trained. The place will be well-defended.” Ylia suddenly squinted. “You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that is the manse of the Governor…”

  “What does that mean?” Telos said.

  “It means that we’re about to make a major enemy,” Ylia replied.

  “Great!” Telos said, rubbing his hands with feigned glee.

  “I never liked the Governor of Virgoda,” Xheng said. “The bastard could not take a shit without raising taxes. We should also liberate him of his rum supply as punishment for his sins.”

  Telos laughed. He was warming to Xheng every moment they spent together. He’d suspected they were cut from similar cloth, albeit Xheng seemed even more reckless than he was.

  “We need a plan—and I have one.”

  Ylia groaned.

  “If you have one, please do share,” Telos said.

  “You know I don’t. But your endless plots make my head ache.”

  “They also keep us safe.”

  “Safe?” Ylia choked. “That is rich coming from the man who is responsible for burning down the livelihoods of two people here!”

  “The Warden burned down your homes,” Telos reminded her. “And you were all clearly doing so well without me.”

  “I hate you.”

  “You are like children!” Jubal growled. “Enough. Telos, tell us your plan so we may assess whether you have lost your wits or not.”

  “Thank you, Jubal. My plan is simple: I will sneak in and grab Qala. You will find some means of a quick escape. When I reappear, we run for it. Simple, like I said.”

  “You want to go in there alone?” Xheng said. “After those assassins took all of us out, even Jubal?”

  “I am a thief by trade,” Telos said. “Stealth is my middle name.”

  A huge crow descended, squawking loudly as it clawed at Telos’s scalp.

  “Get off!” Telos roared. He batted the oversized bird away with his hand. It flew out of his reach, then returned, pecking at him with its cruel, grey beak. Its caws were earsplitting as it savaged his face. The others just stood back and watched the bizarre display until Telos finally drew out the sky-spear cylinder at his belt. He did not unfurl the spear but clobbered the bird with the haft. The crow screeched in pain, nearly falling out of the air from the blow, then woozily zagged up into the sky out of danger. Telos clipped the haft back to his belt, flustered and running his hands through his still under-grown hair.

  What the hell was that? he wondered. But a deep part of him knew: Crows belong to Nereth. Was that some other kind of sign?

  He remembered what Beltanus and Danyil had told him: that Nereth’s curse was arrested while he was in the presence of another god. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have every action counteracted, every movement undermined. A yawning despair opened with him, a great Daimonic mouth that could swallow his very soul. But then within that pit of blackness, a fire seemed to erupt, blackly glowing, hungry, licking hire. What he felt then was almost elation, as though he were energised by the prospect of the challenge, by the thrill of pitting himself against Fate itself. Come, Nereth. Send your crows. Send your minions. Send your Daimons. I will overcome them all, just as I overcame The Warden!

  “Now then…” Telos said, rather cheerily, to his stunned audience.

  Jubal’s eyes had widened.

  “You have not lifted the curse. Beltanus could not lift it...”

  Telos sighed, then shook his head.

  “No, Jubal. But I assure you: I am still capable of doing this. Whatever vicissitudes may befall, I will rescue Qala and bring her back. You just be ready with the escape method, be it wagon, horse or—”

  “Engine!” Ylia said, suddenly.

  Telos raised an eyebrow.

  “The carts and horses will all be destroyed,” she elaborated. “But the Engines… they might have withstood.”

  Telos nodded.

  “That sounds like a good plan. You head to the station, then, and I shall meet you there.”

  “I’m going with you,” Xheng said.

  Telos looked at him, surprised.

  “There’s no need to risk yourself, Xheng. Stealth is easier alone.”

  “That may be true. But I am no stranger to stealth. I sailed the Dire Request through many blockades in my time. But more to the point: Qala is my princess, my future ruler. I cannot leave the fate of Qi’shath in the hands of a Yarulian—I hope you will not take offence. It is simply unconscionable.”

  Telos stared, a little dumbfounded.

  Xheng grinned.

  “And I also told you that I intended to liberate the Governor of his supply of rum. That was not an idle boast. All this doom and gloom has made me thirsty and horny. And as there are no whorehouses left, I shall have to settle for drink.”

  Telos smiled.

  “Well, Xheng, it looks like we have some thieving to do.”

  They said their farewells, and Telos and Xheng set off toward the manse.

  Crows began to circle overhead.