Free Whitemantle by Robert Carter Page A

of them threw itself into panicked flight and the others soon followed.
    The whole pack screamed at him impotently as he stepped over the Bier of Eternity. The stinking, part-dismanded body entangled his ankles and the rusty chains with which it had been ceremonially shackled threatened to trip him. Disgust overcame him, but as he tore down the rest of the canopy, he wiped his hands, then moved out into the light, where the yellow rays of the afternoon sun seemed to wash him clean.
    Out on the parapet there was some respite from the stench, but he dared not step any closer to the edge than this – the fall was unfenced and the bone demons swooped and wheeled in the air beyond. They were looking for their chance to return, hesitating only when Will came fully out into the open to throw a magical gesture of satiety at them.
    ‘Go on, you bloody-snouted curs! You’ll feast no more today! Away with you!’
    Then his eyes widened. How high he had come! All of Trinovant was laid out for him, its sprawl of roofs, its rich palaces and prickle of lesser spires all encompassed by that many-gated wall. There, the White Tower, and yonder, thebridge, tiny now, with the great shining river Iesis also made small, a twisting, turning ribbon of light…
    But where was Chlu?
    When Will looked up he saw there was still a great deal more of the Spire rising above his head. Its summit cone went up dizzyingly for a dozen more levels and came to a point that was topped by a large iron vane. This carried the device of the bloodless heart, the letters A, E, E and F standing out starkly, and a great gold-headed, gold-fletched arrow that acted as a pointer. Will knew the letters stood for a phrase in the language of the Slavers that meant ‘to and from the Fellowship’. Unlike ordinary weather vanes, this pointer was not pushed around by the wind. It was swung by some ingenious means so as to send out messages.
    Seeing the moving sky made Will feel as if the Spire were toppling. A sudden fear of the immense height gripped his belly again and made him step away from the edge. As he did so, he saw Chlu. The latter was standing astride the Bier, and it appeared that he was ready to parlay.
    ‘Why have you stopped running?’ Will asked.
    Chlu stared back. ‘I flee who chases me, and chase who flees me.’
    Will faced him warily. ‘What did Maskull tell you? What spells did he place upon your head to make you want to hurt me?’
    Chlu’s face was as bloodied as Will’s own, laid open beneath his right eye where Will had kicked him, but there remained an ember of arrogance in his expression, a hidden glow that would easily re-kindle.
    ‘I’m not bound to Maskull,’ Chlu said. ‘My will is as free as your own. It always has been.’
    ‘You don’t even realize how he’s using you!’
    A humourless half-smile passed over Chlu’s face, and he prepared to take a step forward. ‘Oh, I am the sorcerer’s stooge while you’re the wizard’s favoured accomplice. I amthe blind man, but your hawk eyes see forever. Is that the way it is? I’ll tell you plain, Willand: Maskull uses me no more than the enchanter, Gwydion Crowmaster, uses you!’
    ‘That’s enough!’ Will raised a hand to stay Chlu’s sly approach. ‘Maskull said he made me, and that he could just as easily unmake me. For years I thought that meant he must be my father. Master Gwydion told me not to believe it, but I couldn’t help myself. And now I’ve learned the truth, and so must you – we were twins, Chlu, two babies stolen away from our natural parents. By Maskull.’
    Chlu shook his head, spread his hands in an open gesture that nevertheless showed he did not accept Will’s words. ‘So you were told, and so you believe…’
    ‘Hear me, Chlu! Maskull worked a spell upon us in a secret workshop. Neither of us are natural men. He’s altered us. He didn’t make us, but his tampering caused us to be as we are. Now don’t you see why we must work together?’
    Chlu’s