The Dying of the Light. Derek Landy
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Deadlocked,” she told him. “It’s bonded to me, so I’m the only one it’ll work for. Can you get a reading from it?”
With slightly trembling hands, Signate reached out, fingertips brushing the Sceptre. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. His fingertips tapped lightly. Then he withdrew his hands, and looked up. “That is tremendously helpful. It would have taken me months to find the proper frequency – now it will only take weeks.”
“You have days,” said Skulduggery. “Do you think you can do it?”
Signate smiled for the first time. “I have always appreciated a challenge.”
Skulduggery stood. “You’ll be out in an hour. Report directly to Administrator Tipstaff. You’re working with us now, Creyfon. Do not disappoint me.”
They left him there and walked back. The silence was beginning to get to Stephanie. It was a peculiar sort of silence. It was sharp. It had angles. It jostled between them, its edges cutting into her. But she kept her mouth shut. Attempting to start a conversation, trying for small talk, would be a defeat. If Skulduggery didn’t want to talk to her, then she didn’t want to talk to Skulduggery.
Even though she did. Badly.
Tanith wasn’t appreciating it, unfortunately. She leaped and dodged and fought and killed in the shadow of the giant Receptacle that housed all of her fellow Remnants, and she did so with the same look of intense focus on her face that she always had. She wasn’t even smiling. She rarely smiled any more, now that Darquesse thought about it. Curious.
Darquesse wondered what Tanith was making of the grand diorama of existence she was seeing. She had become so pragmatic lately that she would probably dismiss it. That almost made Darquesse sad. If only everyone could see things the way she did. She reckoned people would be a lot happier. She grinned as she stepped between two Cleavers, dodging every move they made. “Did you know that Cleavers fight naked?” she asked as she ducked a scythe blade.
Tanith beheaded a downed opponent. “I did.”
Darquesse nodded, leaned away from a kick, and immediately spun to avoid a grab. “Deep within every training area in every Sanctuary, they have a Combat Circle. They step in there, strip off every item of clothing, and fight.”
The Cleavers kept attacking – not slowing up, and yet not allowing their frustration to show. Impressive. “It’s a huge honour to step into the circle, apparently. It is a challenge that cannot be refused. That’s where they prove themselves, without armour or protection.”
“I know all this,” said Tanith. “I was the one who told you. Years ago.”
Darquesse happily ignored her. “These guys would all have fought naked, at some point. Wouldn’t that have been something to see?”
She suddenly lunged, driving her hand through the chest of the Cleaver nearest to her. The last two closed in, but their scythe blades exploded into rust before they got close. Darquesse flicked her wrists and their necks snapped.
“That was fun,” she said.
“Was it?”
She turned to Tanith. “You didn’t think so?”
“You could have killed them all with a wave of your hand,” Tanith said. “We didn’t have to fight.”
“But you like fighting.”
“Fighting without a reason to fight is stupid. And having someone like you around just takes the fun out of it.”
“Oh,” said Darquesse. “I didn’t know that.”
Tanith put away her sword. She looked up at the Receptacle, a globe 100 metres in diameter, set into a cradle of metal with thick wooden struts. Within the globe, blackness swirled. “You’re really going to let them all out, then?”
“I am,” said Darquesse. She trailed her fingers along the side. “All these thousands of Remnants, your brothers and sisters … They’ve been cooped up in this thing, deprived of even a change of scenery. You remember what it was like to be trapped in that room in the Midnight Hotel, don’t you?”
“Yes I do,” said Tanith. “And I didn’t like it one little bit.”
Darquesse gave her a wicked smile. “You want to be the one to let them out?”
Tanith hesitated. “I don’t know. The longer the Remnant is inside me, the longer I’m me, the less I care about other Remnants. I want to free them, but I don’t … need to. It’s something I wanted to do, once upon a time. But now …”
“Personally,” said Darquesse, “I think it’s important to hang on to things like that. That’s why I’m so determined to keep punishing Ravel. It’s what I wanted to do, once upon a time, and I remember that feeling of satisfaction when he first started to scream. I liked that feeling. I want to preserve it.”
“So you think I should let them out?”
Darquesse shrugged. “Only if you want to.”
“Well … freeing them would be advantageous. We could set them loose to distract Skulduggery and the others while you …”
“While I what?” Darquesse said. “What is it you think I’m doing?”
“I’ve seen the future. I’ve seen what you do to the world. You destroy everything.”
“And that’s what you want, is it? Even now? You want a world where everyone is dead? But then there’d be no people to possess, and no trouble to get into. And we both know how much Remnants love getting into trouble.”
“Darquesse, looking into the future, seeing what you do … it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
“That was then. What about now?”
“I haven’t changed my mind, if that’s what you’re asking. If you doubt my loyalty—”
“This isn’t about loyalty, Tanith. You’re a different person to who you were.”
“Well, what about you? Only a few days ago you were insisting you had no intention of killing every living thing on the planet. But I notice you’ve stopped correcting me when I say it.”
Darquesse shrugged. “I’m still figuring this all out, and I reserve the right to change my mind. As you should.”
Tanith looked her dead in the eye. “You can count on me.”
Darquesse smiled. “Of course I can. I know that. Pick up our friend, would you? He’s regained consciousness but trying to hide it.”
One of the two last remaining sorcerers in the place heard her, but amusingly he stayed where he was, slumped in the corner where Tanith had knocked him out and shackled him. Now Tanith grabbed his hair, pulled him to his feet. He cried out in pain, and stumbled after her as she presented him to Darquesse.
“And what is your name?” Darquesse asked.
“Maksy,” the sorcerer said, tears in his eyes. “Please don’t kill me.”
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