that had begun to eat away at his close friendship with Seel. Perhaps he should tell the truth, no matter how terrifying or dangerous it might be. At least, it would clear the air and they could face whatever it was together, as a united front.
Orien took his coat from the back of his chair and began to put it on. Silence hung thickly in the room and the candle wax smelled sour. Flick shivered. He felt slightly feverish: it had come upon him suddenly.
Orien appeared to be about to say something, then his eyes glazed over and his body went stiff. Flick glanced round, his skin shrinking against his bones. He was sure Orien could see something in the shadowed corners of the room. ‘What is it?’ he asked quickly.
Orien held his breath, swaying slightly on his feet. Flick realised that he gazed beyond the mundane world. He was looking through a window that neither Seel nor Flick would be able to see. Orien emitted a short strangled sound and clutched blindly for the table to steady himself. His expression was that of naked terror, his eyes still fixed on an impossible distance.
Seel lowered his hands from his eyes, while Flick jumped out of his seat and knocked over his chair.
The air in the room had become chill, in an instant. Something was there with them. Drunkenness dropped from Seel at once – it was plain to see – but before he could do or say anything, Orien fell heavily to the floor.
By the time Flick and Seel reached him, his body was arching in an unnatural way, so that only his head and his heels touched the floor. His hands shook, twisted, over his chest.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Flick cried. ‘What is it?’
Seel knelt down, took Orien’s head between his hands. Flick could hear him murmuring: the words of a magical spell or perhaps just of comfort. Orien screamed: it was the most hideous sound Flick had ever heard and he’d heard quite a few nasty screams during other hara’s inceptions. ‘Get me the salad spoon,’ Seel said.
Flick was nonplussed for a moment.
‘Do it! Hurry!’ Seel snapped.
The wooden salad spoon had a long handle. The moment Flick handed it to Seel he realised what he meant to do with it. He forced it between Orien’s teeth to stop him ruining his tongue.
The fit seemed to go on for hours. Other hara were attracted by the screams, which had rung out through the peaceful Saltrock night. It was most likely that they were afraid their leader had been attacked. Flick had to answer the hammering on the front door, let them in. When he returned to the dining room, the air stank. Orien had bitten the salad spoon in half and was now lying on his side in a pool of his own vomit, heaving onto the wooden floor. Flick, responsible for all house-keeping, could not help feeling relieved he’d missed the carpet. Seel stroked Orien’s wet hair back from his face. The hara who’d come into the house stood around in silence, their surprise at finding their competent shaman in such a state palpable in the atmosphere. Eventually, Orien stopped retching and groaned.
‘Help me lift him,’ Seel said, and two hara went to assist.
Orien lolled between them, a caricature of his normally elegant graceful self. ‘It’s done,’ he croaked. ‘It’s done.’
Seel and his assistants lowered Orien onto a chair. ‘What’s done?’ Seel asked. ‘What has happened?’
In response, Orien surrendered to a fit of weeping so heartfelt it instilled horror in the breast of everyhar present. Flick had never heard sobs come from so deep within a harish frame before. It was a lament for the world. Something terrible had happened. Orien held onto Seel tightly, as if Seel could somehow make the terror go away.
‘What’s happened?’ Seel asked again, but it was clear that Orien couldn’t answer.
After everyhar had gone, Flick left Seel to help Orien upstairs to a guest room and went out into the night. He knew Seel and Orien needed time alone, bound together in an uncomfortable cocoon where there was no room for him. He walked around the yard behind the house, restlessly pacing. Horses watched him nervously from the corral, unable to sleep so close to his fizzing energy. Flick looked up at the sky, so many stars there. Some of them were already dead, of course. Still beautiful to behold, but already dead. Flick hugged himself. The air was hot, but he