The Core. Peter Brett V.

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       Prologue

       Gaolers

      334 AR

      ‘There will be swarm.’

      Alagai Ka, the demon Consort, spoke with the lips of the human drone, the one they called Shanjat. The Consort lay bound within a circle of power, but he had shattered one of the locks and taken the drone before his captors could react.

      His will crushed, Shanjat was little more than a puppet now, and the Consort took pleasure in the pain that caused his captors. He shifted the drone’s feet, getting a sense of the body. Not as useful as a mimic, but strong, armed with the primitive weapons of the surface stock and an emotional connection to his captors the Consort could exploit.

      ‘What in the Core is that supposed to mean?’ the Explorer demanded. The one the others called Arlen or Par’chin. He held influence over the others, but it was not true dominance.

      The Consort accessed the drone’s language centre, growing in fluency with the primitive grunts that passed for communication among humans. ‘The queen is close to laying.’

      The Explorer met the drone’s eyes and crossed his arms. The wards inked into his flesh throbbed with power. ‘Know that. What’s it got to do with a swarm?’

      ‘You have imprisoned me and killed my strongest brethren,’ the Consort said. ‘There are none left in the mind court with power enough to keep the young queens from draining their mother of magic and maturing.’

      The Explorer shrugged. ‘Queens’ll kill each other, won’t they? Right there in the whelping room, with the strongest one taking over the hive. Better a hatchling queen than a fully matured one.’

      The Consort kept the drone’s eyes fixed on the Explorer as he watched the auras of the others in the room with his own eyes.

      Armed with the cloak and spear and crown of the Mind Killer, the Heir – the one called Jardir – was easily the most dangerous. Chained in a warding circle, the Consort had few options if the Heir decided to kill him, and the subjugation of Shanjat enraged the Heir beyond measure.

      But the Heir’s aura betrayed him. Much as he wanted to kill the Consort, he needed him alive.

      More interesting was the web of emotions connecting the Heir to the Explorer. Love and hate, rivalry and respect. Anger. Guilt. It was a heady mix, and the Consort took pleasure as he studied it. The Heir was impatient for information. There was much the Explorer had not told him, and irritation crackled along his aura at having to follow another’s lead.

      Less predictable was the Hunter, the one called Renna. The fierce female was hot with stolen core magic, her flesh stained with wards of power. She was less skilled in the use of her power, apt to lash out unless kept in check. She was tamped down, weapon in hand, ready to spring at the first break in the stalemate.

      The last was a female drone, Shanvah. Like the puppet, she had no great magic about her. If she had not killed a demon prince with her weapons, the Consort would have dismissed her as irrelevant.

      But while Shanvah was the weakest of his captors, her aura was exquisite. The puppet was her sire. Her will was strong, keeping her surface aura still, but beneath, her spirit was wracked with pain. The Consort would savour the memory of it when he sliced open her skull and bit into the soft meat of her mind.

      The Consort made the puppet laugh, keeping the humans’ attention on the drone instead of him. ‘The young queens won’t have a chance to fight. With none of my brethren strong enough to dominate the others, each will steal an egg and flee.’

      The Explorer paused at that, understanding dawning. ‘Start СКАЧАТЬ