PASCO

29

Rage and Restitution

Pasco watched from his hiding place atop a ruined rooftop as Candle and Locryn disappeared over the western boundary wall. He sighed in relief, and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the blue dome of the sky. Moments before Margh and De had disappeared down the thickly forested slopes to the east, pursued by a handful of the metal clad Lochlanach. Pasco was confident in their abilities to lose the barbarians in the fell, which meant everyone was safe, more or less. Pasco himself was trapped on the roof, but he was reasonably confident no one had seen him climb up and he was hidden from view. He would wait until nightfall before making his escape. Besides - he wanted to keep out of the Mester's way.

From somewhere further down the slopes the Lady Dantalion was calling down the mists. As Pasco watched, the blue of the sky was consumed by rolling clouds that boiled off the mountain with unnatural vigour. It was just like her to be so considerate, he thought, to give them all their best opportunity to escape unharmed, despite the danger to herself. He wasn't sure where she was, having lost sight of her in the smoke but he kept a wary lookout.

He had known the Mester for a long time. It had been Lady Dantalion who had found him, half dead from thirst and exposure wandering in the Westering Desert after he had killed his first master. She had brought him to safety in Havi and healed his many wounds - those both physical and mental. It had been Lady Dantalion who had taught him he could still have a life with meaning, despite the horror of his past; despite the ghosts of the people he had murdered. He squeezed his eyes shut. They haunted him still in the deep of the night and they probably always would. It was only right that he not forget their faces.

He tensed, waiting for the screams to start. Pasco owed the Lady his life. The very least he could do was to forgive her imperfections. She risked her very sanity for the sake of those she cared about. It was her way. In all their time together, the Lady had only used her gift in front of him a handful of times. She preferred to use more practical, direct methods to get what she wanted: like a knife in the dark. She only resorted to magic when no other alternative presented itself. Using her magic was dangerous for the Lady, and doubly so for anyone in her immediate vicinity. Her control tended to slip, and sometimes she did things she would later regret.

Twice, she had used magic in the last hour - first to start the fire on the airship, and now to call down the mists from the mountain. Pasco wondered if the barbarians knew what they had unleashed. Perhaps they did, living with a monster like Mammon.

He listened for the screaming to start. It didn't take long.