Through a swimming rainbow haze Ciaran saw the relaxed, dull faces of
the slaves.
"You are nothing. You are no one. You exist only to serve; to work; to
obey. Do you hear and understand?"
The line of humans swayed and made a small moaning sigh. It held
nothing but amazement and desire. They repeated the litany through
thick animal mouths.
"Your minds are open to mine. You will hear my thoughts. Once told, you
will not forget. You will feel hunger and thirst, but not weariness.
You will have no need to stop and rest, or sleep."
Again the litany. Ciaran passed a hand over his face. He was sweating.
In spite of himself the light and the soulless, mesmeric voice were
getting him. He hit his own jaw with his knuckles, thanking whatever
gods there were that the source of the light had been hidden from him.
He knew he could never have bucked it.
More, perhaps, of the power of the Stone of Destiny?
A sudden sharp rattle of fragments brought his attention to the scrap
heap. The hermit was already half way over it.
And Mouse was right at his heels.
Ciaran went after her. The rubble slipped and slid, and she was already
out of reach. He called her name in desperation. She didn't hear him.
She was hungry for the light.
Ciaran flung himself bodily over the rubbish. Out on the floor, the
nearest Kalds were shaking off their daze of worship. The hermit was
scrambling on all fours, like a huge grey cat.
Mouse's crimson tunic stayed just out of reach. Ciaran threw a handful
of metal fragments at her back. She turned her head and snarled at him.
She didn't see him. Almost as an automatic reflex she hurled some stuff
at his face, but she didn't even slow down. The hermit cried out, a
high, eerie scream.
A huge hand closed on Ciaran's ankle and hauled him back. He fought
it, jabbing with the wand he still carried. A second remorseless hand
prisoned his wrist.