Nightside 09 - Just Another Judgement Day

any kind of saint. I’m just a man, trying to get through life as best I can. Don’t look at me like that, Thorns. You know what I mean.”
    “Sorry,” said the Lord of Thorns. “I thought you were being ironic.”
    “I decide my life,” I said. “No-one else.”
    “I used to think that,” said the Lord of Thorns.
    Chandra approached the stone altar, his voice soft and flat with awe. “To speak directly with God, without the intervention of priest or ritual. I am khalsa, a holy warrior. I have dedicated my life to serving my god, and yet still . . . I fear to hear what he might say to me. What does that say about me?”
    “That you’re still human,” I said. “Only a fool or a fanatic never has doubts about himself.” I looked at the Lord of Thorns. “What do you know about the Walking Man?”
    “I’ve met a few, in my time,” he said easily. “I haven’t always been bound to the Nightside. I have met Walking Men, out in the world. Not the happiest of men, usually. Driven, desperate to make the world make sense . . . by making sure the guilty are punished. For supposedly holy men, they seem to have remarkably little faith in the justice of the world to come. They want their justice here and now, where they can see it.”
    “What if I were to bring him here, to you?” I said suddenly. “Could you stop him from destroying the Nightside?”
    “Even if I still had my old power, and my old certainty, I am nothing compared to the Walking Man,” said the Lord of Thorns. “He is the wrath of God, you see. And besides . . . perhaps he’s right in what he’s doing. Perhaps God has finally decided to do away with the Nightside, for the sinfulness of its inhabitants. There are precedents . . .”
    “There has to be a way to stop him!” I said, almost shouting at the old man. He didn’t flinch.
    “There might be a way,” he said slowly. “Not a very pleasant way, but that’s often how these things go . . . I suppose it would depend on how desperate you are.”
    “Oh, I am way past desperate,” I said. “What is it?”
    “To stop a man of God, you need a weapon of God,” said the Lord of Thorns. “You need the Speaking Gun.”
    That stopped me. I turned away. My mouth was suddenly very dry, and there was a chill in my bones.
    “What exactly is this Speaking Gun?” said Chandra.
    “An ancient, terrible weapon,” I said. “It uncreates things. It could destroy everything. So I destroyed it.”
    “It still exists in the Past,” said the Lord of Thorns. “If you could travel back into Time Past... Perhaps if you were to speak with Old Father Time?”
    “No,” I said. “Not after . . .”
    “Oh yes. Quite. Well then, I suggest you visit the Street of the Gods. Time has never been too strongly nailed down there. And that is where the Walking Man is, right now.”
    “What?” I said. “Oh shit . . .”
    I left St. Jude’s at a run, with Chandra pounding along behind me. I had to get to the Street of the Gods. Before the Walking Man brought the wrath of God to things that only thought they were gods.

SEVEN
    The Good Man

    I ’d barely cleared the door of St. Jude’s when I found myself charging down the Street of the Gods, with Chandra Singh pounding along behind me. A gift from the Lord of Thorns, or from the church itself? Or maybe even from Someone higher up . . . Some questions you just don’t ask, especially in the Nightside. I skidded to a halt and looked quickly around me as I realised the Street of the Gods wasn’t in any more of an upset than usual. Gods and worshippers, strange Beings and stranger tourists, all milled about making rather more noise than was necessary, stirring up trouble for themselves and each other, but there was no sign anywhere of the Walking Man. No-one was dead and dying, there were no piled-up bodies, and no-one was screaming . . . so perhaps he hadn’t actually got here yet. I made myself take a deep breath and concentrate. I’d spent too long chasing around after the Walking Man. Now I was ahead of him for once, I had to stop and think. Find some way to stop him. The Walking Man already had two massacres to his credit. I couldn’t let him get away with a third.
    Especially not here.
    “It’s like a carnival!” Chandra Singh said suddenly. He was staring all around him, beaming widely. “Brightly coloured tents holding wonders within, while hawkers shout their wares, and boast of the glories to be enjoyed by braver and more adventurous