them; still I feel the need for solemnity and reverence. ‘Flawed and frail is man and so we raise Gods in our better image’ - Verliq had a point there.
The black-clad Harlequin pointed to a fallen oak ahead. ‘We’ll make camp there,’ he said, slipping his pack from his shoulders and holding it out for Marn to take from him. ‘There is something I must do first.’
Capan shot him a questioning look, but led the others on.
Venn watched them go, walking with the lithe grace of all Harlequins. ‘And what a sight they will look when they are all gathered,’ he whispered to the twilight. ‘Not even the Reavers could stand against two regiments of Harlequins. Never will death have looked so beautiful.’
He turned away and headed to a spot he’d noted earlier: a long dip in the ground that curved slowly off to the right, a natural ditch covered in lush bracken. The ground fell away after that so Venn had to walk only a short distance before he was out of sight of the others. Somewhere above his head he could hear the chatter of sparrows and, closer, the high abrupt chirp of bluecrests as they chased the evening midges.
‘Jackdaw,’ he said, ‘do your work.’
Unbidden, Venn felt his lips move and as the Crystal Skull at his waist drew in the air around him the smell of earthy undergrowth filled his nose. It was overlaid by another, sharper tang, and Venn wrinkled his nose as that developed into a stench of decay he could taste at the back of his throat like bile. He looked around, but saw no one.
Rojak spoke in his mind. ‘Cautious in your freedom, my queen?’
Venn saw movement off to his left and turned as the Wither Queen rose from the tall bracken and closed on him. She was eying the former Harlequin with naked suspicion. She came close enough to reach out and touch him, but there she stopped, looking all around while her tongue, serpent-like, flicked her lips. Her skin had the pallor of the dead. It was stretched tight over her bones, and looked fragile, as if it might tear at the slighted touch. Matted hair partly obscured her face and strands stuck to a weeping scab on her jaw.
‘There is no charity in your heart, spirit,’ she replied, peering at him as though she could see Rojak’s soul through Venn’s eyes, ‘so cautious I remain.’
From the undergrowth wisps of black fog pulsed and shifted with restless energy, and he could see shapes resembling rats moving along the ground. They surrounded the former Aspect of Death, forming a cordon that Venn believed to be more substantial than it looked.
He looked at the nearest of the rats and saw it watching him, its spectral jaw hanging slack. Venn suppressed the urge to draw one of his swords and looked away, putting the spirit’s hungry eyes from his mind.
‘As you wish,’ Rojak replied, unperturbed. ‘I come to claim that which you promised.’
‘Then ask your boon and be gone.’
Rojak laughed his strange, girlish laugh, but the Wither Queen made no sign of whether she’d heard it. ‘It is only this - that you listen to me a while longer.’
‘The Harlequins prove a dull audience for your prattling?’
‘They have heard all my stories,’ Rojak agreed, ‘but what I ask of you is something different. I have a proposal-I wish you to listen and make no decision until I have finished.’
‘What trickery is this?’ she asked angrily, and half a dozen more insubstantial spirits appeared in the air between the Wither Queen and Venn.
‘No trickery,’ Rojak assured her, ‘but you will need persuading before you agree to my suggestion.’
Two of the pulsing black spirits raced away suddenly, darting through the trees like startled sparrows to scout the nearby forest more properly. Venn saw the Wither Queen mouth silent words as she turned to watch them go.
‘Speak your piece,’ she commanded once they had gone. The Goddess tasted the air again, but this time it was a predatory action. The stink of her presence became a cloying force in Venn’s nose and throat. It was all he could do not to gag as Rojak cheerfully continued, apparently enjoying the sense of corruption all around him.
‘These forests are not only your hunting ground; they are also your refuge.’
Venn saw the Wither Queen’s eyes narrow, but she kept to the bargain they had made and did not speak.
‘You have grown stronger away from Death’s presence, but not so strong