The whistle of the wind across the skids as he lowered them was the loudest sound heard during their long flight to land. The next cacophony was when those skids hit the surface of the lake. Pelter glanced back and saw the foaming wake, and that was all right as well, for anything they did now would be beneath the notice of the runcible AI—or, rather, anything they did from now up to the point when they started using proscribed weapons. Pelter eased the bird round and directed it to the shore of the lake. The land beyond rose not much above the surface level of the lake. In the distance there was a collection of boulders, and beyond that was what Pelter knew to be the beginning of a huge forest, though of what type he did not know. The highest items nearby were reeds and sedges growing at the edge of the water, apart from the dropbird itself. Only a couple of blasts of the compressed-air impeller were required to push the bird through the reeds and onto the squelchy shore. Pelter unclipped his belt and looked round at them.

‘A few solstan hours until sunrise,’ he said. ‘We’ll rest until then.’

‘What about him?’ said Corlackis, stabbing a finger at Stanton.

‘In the morning,’ Pelter replied, then eased his seat back into a rest position and closed his eye. The four behind did the same. He watched them through Mr. Crane’s eyes before eventually allowing himself to rest completely.

* * *

His body felt like a block of lead on the soft ground. He felt sick and his shoulder hurt, and a tiny blacksmith was making horseshoes inside his head. This was worse than the worst of hangovers. The smell of peat filled his nostrils and he tasted earth in his mouth. Opening his left eye he got a low view of palegreen ferns sprouting from the black soil. Beyond them some thick green growth was smeared across the ground. For a moment he had absolutely no idea where he was, or what was happening. When memory returned, he discovered it was possible to feel worse than he already felt.

Jarvellis.

Stanton heaved himself up onto his elbows, then puked yellow bile. Pain lanced his skull at every convulsion. In a way that was preferable to the other pain.

‘Give him another shot,’ said Pelter.

Stanton just managed to look round as Corlackis squatted by him and pressed an injector against his neck. He felt the stuff go in and immediately start to kill his nausea. The pain in his head started to fade also. He felt he might be able to stand now, but just didn’t want to. The other pain had expanded to fill every space.

‘Get up, John,’ said Pelter.