He stared sightlessly down at the boy, and then slowly raised his hands to his ears.
‘Can’t you hear them?’ he said.
The wizards fell silent. Carding still had power, and the tone of his voice would have quelled a thunderstorm.
Coin’s eyes glowed.
‘I hear nothing,’ he said.
Carding turned to the rest of the wizards.
‘Can’t you hear them?’
They shook their heads. One of them said, ‘Hear what, brother?’
Carding smiled, and it was a wide, mad smile. Even Coin took a step backwards.
‘You’ll hear them soon enough,’ he said. ‘You’ve made a beacon. You’ll all hear them. But you won’t hear them for long.’ He pushed aside the younger wizards who were holding his arms and advanced on Coin.
‘You’re pouring sourcery into the world and other things are coming with it,’ he said. ‘Others have given them a pathway but you’ve given them an avenue!’
He sprang forward and snatched the black staff out of Coin’s hands and swung it up in the air to smash it against the wall.
Carding went rigid as the staff struck back. Then his skin began to blister …
Most of the wizards managed to turn their heads away. A few -and there are always a few like that watched in obscene fascination.
Coin watched, too. His eyes widened in wonder. One hand went to his mouth. He tried to back away. He couldn’t.
‘They’re cumulus.’
‘Marvellous,’ said Nijel weakly.
WEIGHT DOESN’T COME INTO IT. MY STEED HAS CARRIED ARMIES. MY STEED HAS CARRIED CITIES. YEA, HE HATH CARRIED ALL THINGS IN THEIR DUE TIME, said Death. BUT HE’S NOT GOING TO CARRY YOU THREE.
‘Why not?’
IT’S A MATTER OF THE LOOK OF THE THING.
‘It’s going to look pretty good, then, isn’t it,’ said War testily, ‘the One Horseman and Three Pedestrians of the Apocralypse.’
‘Perhaps you could ask them to wait for us?’ said Pestilence, his voice sounding like something dripping out of the bottom of a coffin.
I HAVE THINGS TO ATTEND TO, said Death. He made a little clicking noise with his teeth. I’M SURE YOU’LL MANAGE. YOU NORMALLY DO.
War watched the retreating horse.
‘Sometimes he really gets on my nerves. Why is he always so keen to have the last word?’ he said.
‘Force of habit, l suppose.’
They turned back to the tavern. Neither spoke for some time, and then War said, ‘Where’s Famine?’
‘Went to find the kitchen.’
‘Oh.’ War scuffed one armoured foot in the dust, and thought about the distance to Ankh. It was a very hot afternoon. The Apocralypse could jolly well wait.
‘One for the road?’ he suggested.