The earth continued trembling.

From the vantage of a hummock two hundred yards southeast of the mill Hecht could see that a quarter mile of hillside, sloping toward the river, had split like a rip in the seat of too-tight trousers. At several points he saw a pale bluish mother-of-pearl surface. Pulsing.

Puffing, Muniero Delari trudged past. "Come along, Piper. Come along." The old man's course angled uphill. He wanted a closer look at the crack.

The ground shivered. The pearlescent blue moved.

Pinkus Ghort caught up as Hecht and the old man climbed to where they could look down the length of the tear in the earth. He blurted, "Holy s.h.i.t! It's a giant-a.s.s f.u.c.king worm!"

"Grub," Delari corrected. "A larval stage." A wave of motion ran along the thing in the crack. Its downhill end moved forward slightly. The itching at Hecht's wrist amplified severely. "Piper! You should..."

Hecht had decided what he should. "Consent!" Puffing, t.i.tus was catching up. Random officers followed, seriously confused. "Bring out the falcons! With special loads! I need them up here yesterday! Your Grace. Are we seeing what I think we're seeing?"

"The birth of a G.o.d. More or less."

"But what... ?"

"I don't know anything you don't. This could be the hatching of an egg left over from before mankind reached this part of the world. But we don't have the luxury of taking time to worry about who, what, where, and all that. We have to act."

True. That thing would be no friend of Piper Hecht's. Or anyone else round here.

It was Esther's Wood all over again. Another race against time. That thing was maturing. He could sense it nursing on what little free power was in circulation nearby. Soon it would want to feed in earnest.

A backward curved horn began to form atop the downhill end.

"That the head down there?" Hecht asked.

"It would seem," Delari replied.

"Pinkus, you aren't in the chain of command but you have a way with words. Go make those gawking fools take this seriously." The whole army wanted to see the monster. No one seemed smart enough to be scared. "Tell my idiot officers I want everyone moving upriver. With the animals. Except the artillerists."

The falcon crews were running round in confusion in the meadow where they had built bunkers to store their weapons and firepowder. Hecht hoped they would not try to tow the weapons. No. Here came Kait Rhuk and his gang, two men dragging the falcon and three lugging ammunition. The other crews seemed intent on following Rhuk's example.

Hecht told Princ.i.p.ate Delari, "I should go run this show. They know what to do only in theory. If you think of anything useful to do, don't hesitate." He stumbled down the slope. Several officers intercepted him. He repeated his orders to get everyone out of harm's way. "This thing is going to want to eat. Let's don't be its first meal."

Clej Sedlakova asked, "What're you going to do?" Hecht thought it worth noting that the handicapped officer was among the first actually to come for instructions.

"I'm going to kill it."

Seven falcons were in position. The other three crews were still getting organized. There would be personnel adjustments later. If there were survivors.

The G.o.d grub continued trying to shake the chains of the earth. Hecht moved down to the front end, which had come out of the ground a few dozen yards from the river. That end had developed obvious mouth parts and dark patches where eyes might appear.

Pinkus Ghort jogged up. Hecht demanded, "What're you doing back here?"

"I couldn't miss this."

"You could be as sorry as you've ever been. Rhuk! Weber! Stand by. h.e.l.l, Pinkus, we need to get behind those things."

Rhuk and Weber took his sudden movement for the signal to fire.

The simultaneous roar of both pieces, hurling sulfurous hot gases, felled Hecht and Ghort. Hecht rolled over in time to see hundreds of black spots appear on the grub's vast face. Three more falcons discharged, raking the monster's length.

The earth shook. Three-quarters of the grub rose into the air. It crashed back. Hecht, trying to get up, went down again.

The acne spots on the grub grew quickly. As did the spots that would become eyes.

"Get the eyes!" Hecht shouted. "Keep it blind!"

More falcons barked. The least competent crews were in place. Rhuk and Weber prepared their second shots.

Princ.i.p.ate Delari limped down to where Hecht had given up trying to get his feet under him, dropped to his knees. Shaking his head. "There's no choice. I know there's no choice. I can't guess what sp.a.w.ned this... There's going to be a storm, Piper."

Hecht had no chance to ask what that meant. Falcons discharged. They ruined the face of the grub and tore smoldering black wounds along its length. Ten thousand tails of vapor, like feathers stirring in the breeze. The grub shook and screamed-inside every mind for miles.

Hecht's new amulet was not supposed to hurt. Good thing. He could not imagine how bad the pain would have been were he wearing er-Rashal's gift.

There was always ambient power in the world. It kept the ice at bay, made sorcery possible, fed the Instrumentalities of the Night. Like air, the power was always there. Like air, its presence went unnoticed. It became notable only when it was absent.

Rather than absorbed, the ambient power began to be sucked into the G.o.d grub. Its wounds stabilized.

Hecht made a whimpering noise.

Princ.i.p.ate Delari shouted. The storm had arrived. "This is too d.a.m.ned expensive!"

The falcons barked raggedly, voices nearly lost in the psychic roar. A power vortex began to form above the grub. It darkened and grew, spinning, streaked with threads of every imaginable color.

Delari said, "You have have to get your men away from here. If the falcons don't work..." to get your men away from here. If the falcons don't work..."

"It's under way." The officers had gotten the rubberneckers moving at last.

Hecht spied Cloven Februaren back up the slope. Which had begun to shake with vigor.

The light grew feeble. Hecht barely made out Februaren falling. He headed for the old man, moving as though through waist-deep honey. Muniero Delari shouted something he did not understand.

The old man uphill tried to get his feet under him. He fell again and began to slide toward the tear where the grub had begun to thrash.

Two more charges ripped along its flank and back. And did not fade.

And did not fade.

The black began to spread.

The deep honey drag weakened.

The grub's thrashing increased. Like the writhing of a broken snake.

A sour, stink bug reek hit Hecht. His nose and eyes watered.

Cloven Februaren's slide toward catastrophe quickened.

The old man clawed at the gra.s.s. Hecht knew he would not get there in time.

The old man's left foot tangled in a ground-hugging vine. Hecht did get there as Februaren swung end for end. He snagged the old man's tangled ankle, ripped him loose, pulled him in, hoisted him onto his shoulder, and ran.

Instinct more than thought drove him. He had trouble staying upright. The grub kept punishing the earth around it. The stench punished the air.

He had staggered a hundred yards, gasping painfully, when he recalled the Gray Walker's death.

He pushed even harder, till the fire in his chest forced his collapse. He dragged himself into a low place, pulling Cloven Februaren. The ancient muttered some unintelligible warning.

Where was Muniero Delari?

Lightning filled the universe. The ground shook its worst yet. The earth itself rumbled but no thunder followed the ferocious flash.

Cloven Februaren moved feebly. He tried to say something. Hecht could not hear. The old man stabbed one weak finger.

Hecht looked.

A pillar of scarlet stood a thousand feet tall, its red deepening fast. A red and black ball churned atop it. It seemed to include a cherubic demon's face, looking for something it could never see because it was blind.

Hecht lay there a long time, watching. The pillar degenerated into smoke and soot. Some drifted on the wind. Most fell in a fine black snow.

The old man wanted him to do something.

Get up and take charge. Get up and find Muniero Delari. Get up and growl defiance at the Night.

Hecht got his feet under him. He had no strength left. He spotted a wooden shaft nearby. It had been part of a tool for swabbing the bore of a falcon. Now it was a broken stick but long enough to lean on.

He got the pole, then hoisted the old man. "Hang on. I can't carry you anymore. But I'll go slow."

Februaren grabbed hold, then tried to say something about pain in his side.

Hecht moved a dozen yards uphill, to a vantage from which he could see how fortunate he had been to get down when he had.

From that small eminence he could see that half the world had been toasted. Fires still burned where bushes and trees had stood. Smoke still rose from burnt gra.s.s. Yet patches and stripes of green spotted and wove through it all, fading into obscurity beneath falling soot.

A firepowder caisson exploded.

The falcon in a smoldering carriage nearby looked like wax left too long in the sun.

There were human shapes everywhere. Those in the black were charred, though a few still tried to move. Songs of pain rose all around. From the greens, though, healthier men appeared, all fascinated by the collapsing tower above the G.o.d grub pyre.

The black extended a quarter mile toward the mill. Which still stood, though its ruined sails had fallen and were burning. The black itself faded into the brown of dead gra.s.s, then the yellow-green of sick gra.s.s. A mile away the earth was normal.

The ruined castle had collapsed. A gray dust cloud still trailed downwind.

Februaren made a feeble gesture indicating direction.

"Go. Help Muno."

Hecht set him down where he could be found easily, then shuffled off as fast as his body would allow.

He found the Princ.i.p.ate a hundred yards away, stirring weakly in a low place that had not been quite low enough. Delari's backside had been crisped. His behind had suffered local roasting. "Princ.i.p.ate? Can you understand me?"

Delari made funny noises. Hecht turned him gently. There was blood in the old man's nose and mouth. He wiped at it with his fingers, having nothing better to hand. Delari croaked, "Grandfather?"

"He's alive. Maybe a little bruised from me falling on him. I don't know about anyone else. I see a lot of bodies."

Another cask of firepowder exploded. The Patriarch would be livid about the waste.

"Anyone who... wasn't in a... direct line... should be all... right."

A racking cough seized him. It sounded like the cough that had dogged Grade Drocker when he was dying.

Was his conscience dredging up evils to haunt him?

Delari gasped, "I'm not broken... like Grade. I'll... recover." He tried to get onto his hands and knees. He managed, but not without a cry of pain. "What the h.e.l.l?" He panted like a dog for twenty seconds, then tried to reach back behind him.

Hecht told him, "You didn't get all of you down out of the flash."

"How can I... ever go back... to the baths?"

Hecht chuckled. "I'm wondering how you're going to ride."

A voice suggested, "On a litter, facedown." Cloven Februaren had arrived unnoticed. Much recovered. He wore a broad smile. "This should be amusing in the baths."

Delari snapped, "When did you ever visit the baths? And don't you think you ought to be a little less visible? I'm not the only member of the Collegium here. The rest are going to come weaseling around trying to profit now the danger is past." He turned slightly, looked over Hecht's shoulder. "Here comes Ghort."

Pinkus, with stripes burned on his clothing, wobbled as he walked. He tripped, spent half a minute on hands and knees before getting his feet under him again. Hecht moved his way. When he glanced back Cloven Februaren was gone.

"How did he do that?"

Delari said, "I wish I knew. It would be handy in a few minutes."

Gervase Saluda and the Princ.i.p.ate from Aparion were leading the return of the curious. Carefully.

Hecht said, "Saluda is no coward."

"Nor is Gorin Linczski. He spent several years in the Holy Lands. Their caution is justified."

A recollection from Esther's Wood. "If you're able... Let's look in that crack." t.i.tus Consent and other officers were headed his way, too. The falcon crews had begun to rematerialize.

Another keg of powder cooked off. Those approaching hit the ground.