'Suckscar!' Wran cried, forgetting in a moment Canker's doings. 'And these were Vasagi's levels: yours, now, Nestor. Or soon to be, we hope. Not much to tell; not much to do, in Suckscar, for the heavy duties are all below. But Vasagi was the expert in metamorphism: he could make monsters! His vats will be yours now, including the beasts which are brewing in them. But you'll doubtless fashion creatures of your own ... given time, and with a little help. A favour for a favour, eh, Spiro?' He winked at his brother, gliding now to one side. 'We can all use a little help, from time to time. But in any case, enough of that; for you'll soon be exploring Suckscar to your heart's content.'
He lifted his head, looked on and up, and smiled a gaping smile. 'And now - to my reception!'
Three-quarters of a kilometre below, the collapsed mounds and shattered stacks of toppled aeries were stony jumbles on a pebble plain. South-west, majestic now, the barrier mountains were golden in their peaks; while central and to the east, the grey gradually faded to yellow. Hours yet, some thirty or more, before the sun would strike through the central peaks and play her rays on Wrathstack, and then only in these highest levels. Still and all, in other times the Wamphyri would be preparing for their long sleep, for even the thought of the sun was unbearable. Except now ... a victor had returned out of Sunside and desired his reception. It was only just, after all.
'Wrathspire!' cried Wran. 'And why not? For it is indeed the very spire of the stack, and Wratha's the Lady who dwells here. Her apartments are the loftiest and - dare I say it? - the lordliest. So where better to accept the grudging applause of my peers? And see, the Mistress herself awaits us ..."
Riding a gusting wind, Wran's flyer rounded a jagged natural buttress and settled towards a cavernous landing bay. The others were close behind: Spiro, then Gorvi jumping the queue, and finally Nestor. He was busy now, anxiously commanding his flyer: Follow the others; stay in line; easy now ... easy! But not so busy he could fail to notice the Lady Wratha, where she leaned against the carved bone balcony of an observation port above and to one side of the bay.
Even a glimpse was riveting, magnetic, so that Nestor's eyes felt compelled to linger upon her. That couldn't be, however, for Gorvi's flyer was already down and shuffling to one side, making room for Nestor's beast. Nestor's creature knew what it was about; balancing. on the wind, it waited its turn. Its wings were arched into huge traps, thrusters extended forward to take the shock of landing. Briefly, Nestor experienced a moment of vertigo: the sheer height was appalling! He didn't look down but clung to reins and saddle, and wisely refrained from issuing any further commands.
Finally Gorvi's beast cleared the landing area, and Nestor's flyer inched forward and settled to the grainy rock. As thralls came forward to take the reins and lead
the creature aside, Nestor slid gratefully to the ground. Except it wasn't the ground but the mouth of a cavern two thousand eight hundred feet high above the boulder plains! And even safe on the floor of the vast landing bay, still Nestor staggered.
Wran came from somewhere, took his arm, and whispered: 'Now is not the time to show weakness. Let me do the talking and all will go well.' Nestor was only too pleased to submit to this scheme; he was dizzy, awed, and had no words.
At the back of the landing bay, stone staircases with balustrades of bone climbed the rock wall to tunnels and balconies which in turn led to higher levels of honeycombed rock. Descending to the lower levels, other gangways passed through steep shafts or cartilage stairwells. But on high, looking down from one of the balconies, there stood Wratha. And lured by her presence, finally Nestor's eyes focused upon her. And she was a sight for sore eyes.
For her part, Wratha merely glanced at him, however speculatively, before speaking to Wran. 'The Lord Kill-glance, back from Sunside, I see, and all in one piece!' She raised an inquiring eyebrow. The Suck?'
'Need you ask?' Wran returned, smiling like a skull. 'Oh, I know your preferences, Wratha, but alas it isn't so. By now Vasagi's all rendered down, a stain on the hill where I pegged him out to await the rising sun. And indeed the sun was hot on our heels as we left.'
'We?' Again her eyes flickered over Nestor, and returned to Wran.
Wran glanced at Nestor. 'His is a story I can tell at my reception.'
Wratha nodded. 'Well, I prepared a feast for one of you, whoever was the victor. So now will you join me, in my apartments on high?'