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“Still,” he said sulkily, “Neville said he picked up a disturbance in the continuum. He said something was coming.”
“Neville,” she said sweetly, “is a jelly-fleshed worrywart. The Lacrimae Mundi is sailing back to HEX through the Nowhere-at-All. We’re practically undetectable.”
“Practically,” he muttered.
She stood up and walked over to me. “How are you, Joseph Harker?”
“Very happy to see you back here, my lady,” I told her.
“Did anything unusual happen while you were down here waiting for me?”
“Unusual? I don’t think so.”
“Thank you, Joseph. You need not speak until next I tell you to.” She pursed her big lips and went back to sit on the bed again. “Scarabus, contact HEX for me.”
“Yes, my lady.”
He touched a tattoo on his stomach, a tattoo that looked a bit like something from the Arabian Nights, a bit like Dracula’s castle and a bit like the world seen from space. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his pupils were flickering with light—not glowing steadily, as they had when he had s
ummoned the ship to the football field.
He spoke in a deep sort of voice then, the sort of voice you’d get if you dipped Darth Vader in a giant vat of maple syrup.
“Indigo? What is it?”
“We have the boy Harker, my lord Dogknife. A world-class Walker: He will power many ships.”
“Good,” said the syrupy wheeze. Even under whatever spell I was under, that voice made my skin crawl. “We are ready to begin the assault on the Lorimare worlds. The phantom gateways we will be creating will make a counterattack or rescue impossible. When they are empowered, the usual Lorimare coordinates will then open notional shadow realms under our control. Now, with another fine Harker at our disposal, we will have all the power we need to send in the fleet. The Imperator of the Lorimare worlds is already one of ours.”
“We have the Cause, Lord Dogknife.”
“We have the Will, Lady Indigo. How long until you dock here?”
“Twelve hours, no less.”
“Very well. I shall prepare a vat for the Harker.”
She looked at me and smiled, and my heart leapt up within me and sang like a cardinal in springtime.
“I would like to keep a souvenir of this Harker,” she said. “Perhaps a hank of his hair or a knucklebone.”
“I shall give orders to that effect. Now, good day,” and the tattooed man closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said in his own voice, “Ow. That left me with a killer headache. How was Dogknife?”
“Excellent,” she said. “He is planning our assault on the Lorimare worlds.”
“Better him than me,” said Scarabus, and he rubbed his temple. “Ow. I could do with a walk up on deck. Breath of fresh air.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ve spent the last couple of hours down in the map room, breathing the captain’s meal of raw onions and goat cheese.” She looked at me. “But I don’t want to leave the Harker here.”
Scarabus shrugged his thin blue-and-red shoulders. “Bring him with.”
She nodded. “Very well,” she said. “One moment.” She went through the door to the little pink bathroom and closed the door behind her.
The tattooed man looked at me. “You sad little creature,” he said. “Like a lamb to the slaughter.”
The Lady Indigo had not told me to speak, so I said nothing.
There was a tapping on the cabin door. Scarabus opened it. I couldn’t see what happened next, because the door blocked my view. But there was a thud, and a gasp, and Scarabus collapsed to the floor. The man who came in was wearing a hat and a coat and a silver face.
