The Harvest Tide Project (27 page)

Taya looked up and shouted a warning to Lorkrin, hugging the trunk as some spears fell past her. They narrowly missed her brother, who swore in fright.

‘Bowels! They’re onto us!’

‘I don’t think so,’ Taya shook her head, gazing upwards. ‘I don’t think that was meant for us.’ 

‘What, you think they chuck spears out of windows for laughs up here?’

Rak Ek Namen burst into the study, closely followed by
Cossock
and a nervous clerk, and found only a slightly bemused Groach standing in the middle of the room. His face a mask of controlled rage, the Prime Ministrate looked around the room, and then strode forwards and peered out each window. Cossock checked behind the door, and searched through the official robes hanging in the large, ornate wardrobe.

‘Where is he?’ the Noranian leader demanded.

‘Who?’ Groach replied, pointing at Mungret. ‘You mean him?’

Draegar and the scentonomist left the kitchen, and walked along the back alleys to the docks. Hilspeth stayed ahead of the Parsinor, checking that the coast was clear before he
followed
. They hurried across the loading areas to a bridge that spanned the river above the eb-towers. Climbing down, they slipped into the water underneath, and vanished beneath the surface.

Hilspeth had always been a good swimmer. She had grown up in an area on the shores of a great lake, and she and her friends would often spend summer days playing in the clear waters. The water of the River Gullin was in stark contrast to that lake. It had a mud bottom that was constantly disturbed by the current, making it murky and full of silt. Pollution from the factories gave it a dank smell, and
something in it was stinging her eyes. Draegar touched her arm and pointed. Below them, partly buried in the mud, was what they had come to find. It was a bexemot, sleeping on the bed of the river. Draegar had told her that they were enticed here by the Noranians, who used them for moving the eb-towers into deeper water when the river level dropped. This was one of at least five that he knew were in this area. Letting some air out through her closed lips to take the pressure from her lungs, Hilspeth held her nose and popped her ears as she dived deeper.

If there was anything that Hilspeth knew a lot about, it was smells. And when you knew a lot about smells, you learned a lot about noses too. It was all part of the job. Even unusually large noses like that of a bexemot. Actually,
studying
the inside of a bexemot’s nose was essential to a
scentonomist’s
training. How else was one to get such a close look inside a working nasal passage?

She swam down to the head of the monstrous animal, and worked her way along to one of its nostrils. Then she ducked inside. Just inside was a large hollow, big enough to hold an air pocket at the top that she could fit her head into. She exhaled as she hit the air and heaved in a few breaths. The nostril was the width of a respectable wine barrel, and its walls were lined with a slimy mucus that made it slippery. There was no movement in the passage. A sleeping bexemot could hold its breath for weeks. She felt uneasy being in such a confined space, but she had a job to do, which was enough to keep her wits about her.

Digging her feet in to hold her head in the small air space, she reached into her waistcoat and pulled out a vial. There was almost no light in here, but she knew most of her bottles
by feel. Holding her nose, she unplugged the cork and let the contents empty into the water around her. It was essence of timbleleaf. For humans, it was a treatment for jealousy: for bexemots, it was a powerful love potion. There was enough in that vial to make even the most unfriendly bexemot go looking for romance. She was not sure how fast it would work. She had her answer before she could get out of the nostril.

The world about her shook and there was a rush of moving water. She felt the pressure change, and was almost sucked farther in as the creature’s head broke the surface and it took a deep breath. With an almighty explosion of air, it sneezed, blasting her into the sky as high as the roofs of the buildings on either side of the river. She sailed through the air, arcing down the river and landing on her back with a smack that stung her from head to toe. She skimmed the
surface
, bounced and slapped the water hard again. The wind was knocked out of her, and she sank beneath the glassy ripples. With a few frantic strokes, she clawed her way up to the surface again, fighting for breath. She paddled weakly until a heavily muscled arm encircled her waist and guided her to the shore. Draegar pulled her out under the cover of the bridge and watched her until he was sure she had recovered.

‘Never seen that before,’ he told her.

The bexemot was wide awake, and could be seen with its head and back rising out of the murky water. It swivelled slowly this way and that, then found a scent and started moving.

‘I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl,’ Hilspeth mused.

The enormous animal swam past the bases of the
eb-towers
,
snagging anchor lines and brushing against the thick roots on which the trees floated. The tall floating fortresses swayed violently back and forth, starting to pull at their moorings as their suddenly unanchored bases began to move with the current. The mooring ropes pulled taut, and the huge trees shuddered, held in place only by the ropes and the long cables that ran from the ground to the higher branches to hold the tops steady.

The bexemot continued on its way, determined to find love. It dragged some anchor chains with it, and was hardly slowed when they jerked taut and snapped, shaking the towering fortresses to their roots. Horns were sounding the alarm, and soldiers and dock workers ran to help secure the eb-towers. But nothing could be done while they rocked from side to side; men and women were tossed across the roots and thrown from the branches into the river; loose ropes and chains whipped around and knocked people to the ground. Hilspeth winced as she saw one soldier hurled towards the bridge by a pivoting tree.

‘I think we may have overdone it,’ she grimaced.

‘They’ll be all right.’ Draegar was unsympathetic. ‘A good swim never hurt anyone. At least it’ll draw attention away from Emos. He should have got Shessil out by now.’

Groach cowered as the Noranian leader advanced on him. Suddenly the room lurched and they were all thrown off their feet, with the exception of Cossock. Namen jumped up, but the tower shook again and he had to grab a table to steady himself.

‘Find out what’s going on!’ he shouted to Cossock.

The bodyguard dragged Mungret out with him and charged down the stairs. Namen stepped over to the stand of weapons between the bookcases, glowering at Groach as he reached for a sword.

‘You’re up to something and, whatever it is, I’ve had enough of you.’

His hand failed to grasp the weapon. Turning in surprise, he found that the narrow space between the two bookcases was filled with some solid shape. There was only the image of the weapons’ stand, as if painted onto a wall. He gasped in surprise, but recovered in an instant and grabbed a letter opener from the bookshelf, driving the blade into the image before Emos could regain his shape.

Emos cried out, but lunged out of his hiding place. And now he had the knife embedded in his shoulder, he held it to him. The room shuddered and Namen stumbled. Emos slunched back into his normal form as he threw himself
forwards
, knocking the Noranian to the floor. Tossing the knife away, he swung his fist hard against Namen’s jaw. Namen got his foot against Emos’s chest and kicked him away. The Myunan rolled and flipped onto his feet, but Namen was already up. Groach charged at him, wrapping the chain of his shackles around the Noranian’s shoulders. Namen was snared long enough for Emos to get another punch in before the Noranian leader blocked him and landed a fist right across the Myunan’s nose. Emos let his face go soft, and Namen’s hand left an imprint. The Noranian swivelled and caught Groach with an elbow in the ribs. He shrugged out of the botanist’s grip and swung an uppercut that cracked against Groach’s chin and sent him reeling backwards. He collapsed unconscious against the wall. Namen stepped
outside Emos’s next punch and drove his foot into the Myunan’s midriff, hurling him back across the room.

Taya pulled herself onto a deck where she could hold on, helping Lorkrin up as the tower pitched back and forth
violently
. They had almost been thrown off when it had started moving, and now it was rocking like a ship in a storm. Lorkrin panted as he crawled to join her at the post where she was clinging on tightly.

‘By the gods,’ he gasped, wrapping his arms around the post. ‘This is getting to be a bit much, really. Maybe we should try taking the stairs from here on up.’

‘Well, at least it’s giving the guards something to think about,’ Taya replied.

Anchored to the post were two heavy ropes which were pulled taut, acting against the movement of the tree. She
reasoned
that they must be linked to the ground, stabilising the tower. Her eyes followed their length down through the branches, and she found herself looking straight into the face of a soldier on a walkway below them. His face changed as he saw her.

‘Intruders!’ he roared, pointing up at them.

All of a sudden, there were four more Noranians at his side. They snarled at the Myunans and grabbed the ropes. Climbing hand over hand, they made their way up the cables towards the two shape-shifters. Lorkrin pulled his bag off and rooted about inside. Drawing his knife, he started sawing through one of the ropes.

‘What are you doing?’ Taya exclaimed.

‘Getting them before they get us!’ he grunted.

The fibres of the rope parted under his sharp blade, and the tension of the rope pulled it apart. It snapped, nearly catching Lorkrin across the head as it whipped away,
sending
two soldiers tumbling down through the branches below them. The eb-tower, already fighting the current of the river and the collision with the bexemot, shuddered, and the strain on the other rope increased. He and Taya began to cut at it, and this one gave way almost immediately. The
remaining
soldiers fell kicking and flailing into the foliage.