Icecaller’s grin is wide and unrepentant. ‘Just smart enough to take over from you when your last marble finally rolls onwards.’
Kinghammer stands, stretches, goes back to the bowl and mirror to finish up. Nigh traipses after him. He pulls on a loose shirt, and then a heavy jacket to keep out the chill. He talks to Icecaller’s rippled reflection as he works.
‘I take your point, but we can’t have this out in open council. There’s too many unknown quantities. If thisiswhat Quickfish wants, there has to be no surprises. No dissenters. We need them all on board.’
Icecaller stands, scoops Nigh up en route. ‘Oh, easy then. No strong personalities in this mountain at all. Not like you’re cheek by jowl with a couple of wild sorcerers and two auld biddies who see the future in each other’s farts.’ She kisses him on the cheek. ‘We do have to help though. So we can sleep at night.’
He grunts noncommittally as she sits Nigh onto her shoulders and backs towards the door. ‘Good luck, mighty Kinghammer. Smack ’em into line. What’s one old bellringer and a couple of tooth-suckers anyway?’
She steps on the toe first, then stumbles into legs, a long torso, and robes clacking with cold, black wood. The skin underneath is barely different, lean and hard.
Belltoller puts a hand on her shoulder, and gently steadies her. ‘What indeed, young Icecaller?’
Ice looks up. Belltoller’s hair falls over her brow, and a thin, dark smile cuts the long bones of her face. ‘I rather suppose we will find out.’
‘I … yeah … because, I mean. Nigh and I …’
‘You can go,’ Belltoller says. Icecaller shoots a strangled look at her da, but he’s no use, already pivoting to face this new intrusion.
She shrugs helplessly, and Nigh waves cheerily as the pair retreatinto the corridor that’ll pull them back into less judgemental areas of the Stump.
As Icecaller turns the corners of the dark rock, two slight shadows flick past her, heads bowed, beads rattling. The Deadsingers are headed in exactly the same direction Belltoller just stalked, cutting through the half-light of the Stump’s passageways like slinky little minnows in the wake of a shark. Ice winces and taps Nigh’s feet. ‘Shall we let the old folks tear each other to pieces, maggot?’
Nigh plants a damp kiss right on her sister’s scalp, and she retches.
‘Feels like a wet little agreement to me. Let’s get breakfast, and go see the new kids, while Da breaks some eggs.’
A little away, Belltoller watches the pair go with faint amusement. She stands perfectly still, but her robes rise and fall, as if with some small unseen air. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her, deep lines and strong wrists. The heavy braids of her hair frame a face that is sharp, stark, amused.
‘How bad indeed?’
She watches Kinghammer as he composes himself, all the familiar lines hardening. This isn’t their first disagreement, and it won’t be their last.
He starts to speak, and she raises a finger. ‘Wait. The sisters are coming.’
The Deadsingers arrive shortly after, flanking Belltoller where she stands.
Kinghammer’s eyes narrow. ‘Ladies. Do you want to sit?’
‘No,’ Belltoller says. ‘This won’t take long.’
The Deadsingers nod in unison.
Kinghammer pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘I’ve just had Caller and the kid barracking me, so can this wait?’
‘No,’ Belltoller says. A flicker of a smile plays over her face.
Kinghammer sighs. ‘Right then. Let’s get it over with. Say your piece.’
Belltoller glances down at the other two women. ‘If you’ll allow, sisters?’
They nod.
‘Hammer, you’ll forgive me being direct. We are both too old to be anything but. The current course of action is unsound.’
He laughs at that, and she frowns.
‘Unsound? I thought it was a joke. You know? Bells?’
