Sanderssen pressed a button on a remote control and Jakob shrunk to a small picture in one corner. The rest of the screen was filled with an advertisment for some kind of yoghurt. Changing the channel, he found the news.
"...has risen to a new high of 258.3 against the bottletop, which is still the preferred currency in parts of southern Bognolia. And now, back to our studio for the main headlines.
"Latest figures show a disturbing rise in the number of antler thefts...." the newreader stopped, and paused.
"This just in. Police in Ha'Khun are investigating what appears to be an invisible mugger, after a traveller - believed to be a male husky in his late twenties - suddenly collapsed outside the central railway station."
The picture changed. Joshua walked towards the door, and suddenly his head snapped forwards as if he'd been hit by a club. His legs buckled, but instead of collapsing, he slowed to a halt and floated, his head bobbing to the rhythym of invisible feet as his mysterious assailants carried him away.
"Fifty gold dollars says the Gnostics are behind that," James said.
The first thing Dasgard saw when he opened his eyes was Daryil's face. He let out a yelp and shut them again. When he cautiously raised one eyelid just a fraction, he saw that Daryil was gone, but there was a small envelope on the ground. Gingerly he picked it up and opened it. It seemed to be very short.
I Guess I owe you an apology, the letter began. Usually I'd give you some lollipops or something, but I guess you're a bit too dead for that.
Lollipops? Dasgard wondered, and glanced down at the letter again. He almost dropped it.
Yes, lollipops, it read. I'm sorry about your clan leader, by the way. I mean she was a murderous bitch an' all, but even she didn't deserve what I did to her. It sounds a bit trite, but if there's anything I can do to help make amends, or help you settle in, just let me know...
Dasgard began to tremble.
Oh calm down, it continued. Hang on.... Maybe this wasn't such a great idea.
"Sorry about that," he said, suddenly appearing behind Dasgard and making him jump. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway... I understand you know Dorcan well?"
"Uh yes, Sir..." the dalmatian said. "We were room-mates at the Academy. I guess, when you think about it, we were both members of small clans who were in hiding, both brought up to a pacifistic ideal... I guess it makes sense that the administrators put us together."
"I see. So, what's he like in bed?" Daryil asked. "Uh, forget I asked that," he added quickly as Dasgard's face turned a brilliant shade of pink.
"So, does you clan - or splinter group - have a leader?" he continued hastily. Dasgard leapt backwards.
"Oh nonono. I know your game!" the hound declared, backing away. "For all your pretty words, you want to hunt down the survivors and destroy them! You need me to give you the location of the key men! Do what you will do me. I'll not betray my clanmates!"
As he looked up, Dasgard noticed that the fox was covering his face in irritation.
"If my aims were that crude, your own life wouldn't be worth much to me, would it?" he said at last, and there was a strangely cruel gleam in his eyes. "Think. With the powers at my command I could dissect your very soul to learn what I seek. Your agony and terror would be bliss to me. Ask yourself... why haven't I done this?"
"I don't know!"
"I'll give you three guesses."
"Because I might die too quickly?"
"Wrong."
"Because it would upset Dorcan?"
"True, but not the one I'm looking for."
"What happens if I can't guess!?" he wailed.
"Then we eats it, precious!" Daryil cackled.
"Please! I'll do anything!"
"Both wrong!" Daryil said, and sat down. "Actually, the reason I haven't done this is because it would be a very shitty thing to do. Also, I think you're kind of hot."
Dasgard ignored the latter comment. "But if it's not a vendetta... why do you want to meet my leader?" he quavered.
"To apologise, of course."
The dalmatian grunted.
"Is that really so hard to believe?" the fox sighed. "For all you know I've already seen his address in your mind, killed him and replaced him - in which case there's nothing you can do anyway. So why worry?" He smiled at Dasgard, who cringed.
"Look. I've been thinking about this for a while. I did your clan a great wrong, and while I can never undo my crime, I would at least salvage what I can. My quarrel was with Ti'Nera herself and she has more than paid the price for her deeds. If our clans can bury the hatchet, we can put the whole nasty business behind us and move forward. I have already placed Dorcan's clan under my protection, and I'd be quite happy to extend the same deal to your lot."
"My clan is already divided," Dasgard said cautiously. "This would make things worse. Besides which he'd never agree to meet you."
"So we call him up," Daryil said. "Even I can't steal someone's soul over the phone. At least, I don't think I can..." he added.
"I'll see what I can do."
"Attaboy," Daryil said, and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Joshua opened one eye. A blow to the head wouldn't do a huge amount to him unless the shock itself was enough to physically damage his neurocircuitry, and that would take a blow hard enough to shatter the skull of most Beings or Creatures to powder. Nonetheless, the impact had forced a self-check, and when he'd recovered it seemed better to let the others think him unconscious.
The husky picked himself up and brought out his wings, his eyes glowing very slightly in the dark. He was lying on a crude pallet in an unlit cell of the kind often found in monastries. That was good - it meant that he'd been left to recover. For a moment he'd thought that he'd been dumped in the morgue.
Why didn't they think they'd killed me? he pondered. I don't breathe and I've got no pulse.
His feathers ruffled for a moment as the idea that they were 'Cubi or some other telepathic race occurred to him. Yes, if they had felt his mind, that might explain why they didn't check for vital signs. Either that, or they simply didn't care too much whether he came back to them alive or not.
There again, they might know what I am, he thought. And that thought scared him even more.
"Ah, you are awake, my son," said a voice. Joshua turned, hiding his wings.
"Be not afraid, child," the mongrel said. "You have come in search of the truth, have you not? The Father has given me leave to show you what you seek. Follow me."
Feigning weakness, Joshua took the Brother's hand and was led into a small room containing a two chairs.
"Now your journey truly begins, young Joshua," he said, and closed the door behind him. The husky's eyes widened as the Brother turned back to face him, his face a close replica of Joshua's own. "Soon, we two shall be one," he added, with a paternal smile.
"Good to see you," Neremath said, hugging his son.
"Yes, you as well. I'm sorry this has to be a flying visit," Dorcan told him, "But as you know, this is a bit urgent. I promise, when things settle down a bit more, I'll visit you more regularly."
"I quite understand," Nem nodded. "Now. As for the Master, you're in luck. When your mother was in trouble, I was referred to him as a possible option. He keeps moving around, but I suggest you start your search in Vagslav forest. Even if he isn't there now, people may be able to point you in the right direction."
"Did you meet him?" Salomere asked. "Can you describe him?"
"He's a cheetah. Large, feathery wings and pale orange fur. His hair's very light blue, almost white."
"An Angel?"
"I suspect so. Anyway, he's a bit weird. I told him about your problems, and he promptly assumed the lotus position and closed his eyes. Exactly 24 hours later, he snapped out of it and told me that it wouldn't work, because he could only influence the outcome of a trial or similar judgement. At the time, you were in more danger of being summarily executed or killed by a bounty hunter."
"Did he give an estimate?" Dorcan asked.
"Yes. But... I can't remember what it was. I remember it was pretty steep. I hope your Jakob can afford it."
With his augmented vision, Dorcan was the first to spot the ageing muskrat as they approached the edge of the forest some two hours later. Her frame was stocky for all the grey fur around her muzzle, and she was pulling a wheelbarrow loaded with what appeared to be market produce.
"Ho there, elder!" Dorcan called as they drew close. "We seek for one known as Quangyre. Know you where he can be found?"
"There is a crazy man who lives in the forest", the musk-rat told them after a pause. "I think that may be what he calls himself. But be careful, good folk... He has wings. I fear... he may be a Creature!"
"That's okay, we're Creatures too..." Dorcan blurted out, and clapped a hand over his mouth. The ancient Being sucked her breath in sharply.
"Look at that!" she yelled, pointing into the sky. As their heads turned, she sprinted away in the opposite direction with surprising ability, leaving the cart far behind.
"Nice work ace," Salomere told him, helping herself to an apple. "You've spent too long among other 'Cubi at the Academy, you have. Small wonder they caught you the minute you left. Think you can carry those?" She gestured at a pumpkin and a large yellow melon.
"That's stealing, mum!" Dorcan protested.
"I doubt she'll complain," she replied, writing out an IOU as Dorcan reluctantly removed the fruit. "A couple of gourds in exchange for her soul seems like a pretty good deal to me."
"You wouldn't do that anyway," Dorcan pointed out, putting the melon in his backpack and dutifully tucking the pumpkin under one arm.
"She doesn't know that."
"It is done, Father," Brother Oswald burbled in Joshua's voice. "Our errant child has been sent upon his journey towards the truth."
"It took you long enough," the Father replied, raising an eyebrow.
"He struggled muchly, Father," the Brother said. "I was hard-pressed to tame him."
"Ah yes... it is often the case that a sinful soul will struggle against the Truth. It is a sad, sad thing, but now, at last, he can learn the error of his ways in life."
"Yes, Father," the Brother chirped, nodding eagerly.
"Very good, my son," the Father said, and made a gesture of dismissal. "Now go to your chamber and pray for the purification of his spirit."
"Yes, Father, thank you, Father," the Brother said, bowing respectfully and leaving.
As soon as he was out of sight, Father Albina smiled to himself and went to retrieve the corpse - and the soul - of their latest victim. The body of a canine was lying slumped back in the chair as always, but Brother Oswald had forgotten to leave the lights on as he had been instructed.
Shaking his head, the Father flicked the lightswitch and suddenly froze, his mouth falling open. The figure slumped in the chair was not a Siberian Husky at all, it was a mongrel, the Brother he'd sent in to perform the killing. With a sense of rising panic, he reached under the chair and felt around for the soul-stone usually fastened there with gaffer tape. It was missing.