Sapphique - Incarceron 02 Read Online Free PDF Page B

disappeared. No, not everything. With a wry smile she realized that if she leant out she could see the lettering on the waggon behind; that it was picked out in glowing luminous paint — The One, the Only, Travelling Extravaganza — that its wheels were whirling spokes of green. There was nothing else. The tunnel was narrow; from its roof the noise of rumbling axles reverberated into an echoing thunder.
    The further in they went, the more worried she became. No road was without its owners; whoever held this one had a surefire ambush site. Glancing up she tried to make out the roof, whether any one was up there on walkways or hanging from nets, but apart from the web of one uberspider she could see nothing.
    Except, of course, the Eyes.
    They were very obvious in the darkness. Incarceron's small red Eyes watched her at intervals, tiny starpoints of curiosity She remembered the books of images she had seen, imagined how she must look to the curious Prison, tiny and grainy, gazing up from the waggon.
    Look at me, she thought, bitterly. Remember, I've heard you speak. I know there is a way Out from you.
    'They're here,' Rix muttered. She stared at him. T hen, with a crash that made her jump, a grid smashed down ahead in the darkness; and another, behind. Dust billowed up; the ox bellowed as Rix dragged it to a halt. The waggons creaked into a long straggling stillness.
    'Greetings!' The shout came from the darkness ahead. 'Welcome to the toll gate of Thar's Butchers.'
    'Sit tight,' Rix muttered. 'And follow my lead.' He jumped down, a lanky shadow in the darkness. Immediately a beam of light lit him. He shaded his eyes against it. 'We're more than willing to pay great Thar whatever he wants.'
    A snort of laughter. Attia glanced up. Some of them were overhead, she was sure. Stealthily she drew her knife, remembering how the Comitatus had captured her with a flung net.
    'Just tell us, great one, what's the fee?' Rix sounded apprehensive.
    'Gold or women or metal. Whatever we choose, showman.'
    Rix bowed, and let relief creep into his voice. 'Then come forward and take what you want, masters. All I ask is that the properties of our art are left us.'
    Attia hissed, 'You're just going to let them—'
    'Shut up,' he muttered. Then, to the juggler, 'Which one are you?'
    'Quintus.' 'Your brothers?'
    'Ready, boss.'
    Someone was coming out of the dark. In the red glimmer of the Eyes, Attia saw him in flickers, a bald head, stocky shoulders, the glint of metal strapped all over him. Behind, in a sinister line, other figures.
    On each side, green lights flared with a sizzle.
    Attia stared; even Rix swore.
    The gangleader was a halfman.
    Most of his bald skull was a metal plate, one ear a gaping hole meshed with filaments of skin.
    In his hands he held a fearsome weapon, part axe, part cleaver. The men behind him were all shaven-headed, as if that was their tribemark.
    Rix swallowed. Then he held up a hand and said, 'We're poor folk, Winglord. Some thin silver coins, a few precious stones. Take them. Take anything. Just leave us our pathetic props.'
    The halfman reached out and gripped Rix by the throat. 'You talk too much.'
    His henchmen were already climbing all over the waggons, pushing the jugglers aside, ducking under the canvas. Several of them came straight back out.
    'Hell's teeth,' one muttered. 'These are beasts not men.' Rix smiled wanly at the Winglord. 'People will pay to see ugliness. It makes them feel human.'
    A stupid thing to say, Attia thought, watching Thar's grim face.
    The Winglord narrowed his eyes. 'So you'll pay us coins.'
    'Any amount.'
    'And women?'
    'Indeed, lord
    'Even your children?'
    'Take your pick.'
    The Winglord sneered. 'What a stinking coward you are:
    Rix pulled a rueful face. The man dropped him in disgust. He flicked a glance at Attia. 'What about you, girl?'
    'Touch me she said quietly, 'and I'll cut your throat.' Thar grunted. 'Now that's what I like. Guts.' He stepped forward and fingered the edge of