in? At least, she thought, he hadn’t killed all of them, though they had been transformed like the Agents into something other than their original substance. They might have been standing there like that since the day Tophet arrived and took their span.
Behind the curtains, behind the dais, the treasures thinned and the space opened up. One group of figures clustered in a semicircle directly under the dome, its blue cast distorting their intent in its soothing color. In their center was a high-backed throne.
A three-sided puppeteer’s screen had been set up before them, its white square burning like a blind rectangular eye. In front of it, hanging from chains, was Diverus. His body, as naked as when he’d entered Oceanus’s pool, ran with sweat, and he was babbling, his tormented words falling over themselves as if he couldn’t keep up with what he had to say even though it was nonsense.
An Agent stood just behind him beside a brazier. He held a set of tongs from which something long and paper-thin dangled. She twisted in the grip of her captors as she recognized that it was skin.
The Agents hauled her around the end of the semicircle. More of the natives in their forced finery stood there as if watching a play. Some of them were weeping silently, their terror palpable. At the midpoint of the group, upon the throne, sat a figure in a dark robe that might have been green under other light. To the side of him a naked and ice-pale bald female held up a pole that was like a gibbet. From the crosspiece at the top of the pole hung a golden oval mask portraying a sun god’s cherubic face. It was at least five times the size of a human face, a sun disk. The attendant herself was either blind or else had eyes that were utterly black. From behind the mask, a voice said, “What is this, Scratta?” It buzzed like a hive of hornets.
“Lord,” answered Scratta. “I believe I have solved the puzzle of Jax.”
Behind the mask, he drummed long fingertips on the arm of the throne. They were shiny, of the same blue as the dome overhead. “That’s good,” Tophet replied, “because this one has passed the point of making any sense, and all we can do is finish stripping the surface off him for the mere pleasure of doing it, not in order to learn anything.” Another pause. “So what is the puzzle’s solution?”
“This is Jax, Lord.” He turned, and the two behind him dragged her forward.
“Well. Is that right?”
She didn’t realize he was asking her until Scratta raised a hand as if to cuff her. “Answer him.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m Jax. The one you’re torturing is my musician and I would like him back intact, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
The laughter began low, sounding as inhuman as his speech, like metal grinding against metal, ending finally in the words, “A female puppeteer. That’s unheard of, isn’t it?”
“Lord, we have never encountered one to bring before you. Storytellers, yes, but not a puppeteer, much less one compared to—” He faltered.
Tophet seemed not to notice. “But how did she escape your attention, Scratta?”
“Lord?” Scratta asked, the word rimed with fear.
“She had to have come here on your boat along with this useless creature. How did she elude all of you?”
“I don’t know, Lord. We saw no sign of her.”
“Perhaps your eyes are going in your dotage, hmm? I may have to consider that it’s time you were freed from your position, Scratta.”
From the way he stiffened, Leodora could tell that freed didn’t mean anything as pleasant as it sounded. “I shouldn’t care to leave your service, Lord Chaos.”
“Mmmm,” Tophet answered equivocally. “So Jax has come to rescue a musician. I’m impressed you didn’t flee. Most are disinclined when they receive my invitation.”
“I suppose that’s why you lie and promise them great wealth?”
“Who have you been talking to?”
She shrugged. “I was told you were looking for a storyteller and that you pay handsomely for a good performance.”
Tophet shifted upon his throne. “Where would you have heard such a thing?”
“From . . . oh, what was that name?” She seemed to be asking Scratta, who gave her an anxious look. “Oh, yes, now I recall. Bardsham.”
The entire group became a diorama in blue. For moments, no one moved. Only Diverus made a sound, whimpering, half out of his mind. She desperately wanted to go to him, but knew they would both