Strata

uncertainly. ‘It’s just a telepathic dumbwaiter. Come on, Silver. I’m hungry.’
    ‘
You’re
hungry,’ said Silver. She drummed heavy fingers on the table edge, then doubtfully:
    ‘I have in mind a dish of ceremonial truduc.’
    The shadow swirled, disappeared. Silver’s fingers drummed on.
    ‘Smoked guaracuc with grintzes?’ she suggested.
    A vague shape appeared above the crystal, then faded.
    ‘Dadugs in Brine? Chaque sweetbreads? Xiqua? Dried qumqums?’
    Kin sighed, and pushed the ice cream away untasted.
    ‘There Is A Problem?’ said Azrifel.
    ‘The table can’t handle Shand proteins,’ said Silver, sitting down heavily and drawing her knees up to her chin.
    ‘What Is A Protein?’
    Abu Ibn Infra seated himself comfortably by the far side of the table and put out his hand to grasp a crystal glass of pinkish liquid as it materialized beside him. Azrifel stirred, and nodded as the man spoke.
    ‘My Master Wishes To Talk About Your Flying Clothes And Similar Matters.’ More consultation. ‘My Master Presents His Compliments To His Fellow Collectors And Offers, In Exchange For All Three Items, A Mirror-To-See-All-Things-Be-They-Never-So-Far And Two Bottomless Purses.’
    Kin was aware of the other two looking at her. She said, ‘Leaving aside for a moment his somewhat derisory offer,’ – she had a feeling that a lack of the haggling spirit might be regarded as signs of general weakness – ‘we come from a far off land and do not quite understand the reference to Collectors. Collectors of what?’
    Abu Ibn Infra frowned as he listened to the translation. He spat out a reply. Kin wouldn’t have thought it possible for anyone to spit several lengthy sentences, but he managed, he managed.
    ‘My Master Is Puzzled. You Possess Gifts OfGod But You Do Not Know Of The Collectors. He Says: How Can This Be?’
    ‘Listen, demon,’ said Kin. ‘
you
know. You’re a projection, like Sphandor. Aren’t you?’
    ‘I Find Myself Forbidden To Answer That Question At This Moment In Time,’ said Azrifel smugly. ‘You Are In The Shit, That’s All I Know. If You Think You’re Coming Out Of This Alive, My Reaction Is Ho Ho Ho.’
    ‘I will kill it,’ said Marco, half rising. The guards behind Ibn Infra stirred.
    ‘Sit down,’ hissed Kin. ‘You, demon, answer the question. What is a collector?’
    ‘My Master Says It Is No Secret. He Himself Was Once A Humble Fisherman Until, Upon Gutting A Fish, One Day, He Discovered Inside It A Gift Of God, To Whit, The Lamp To Which I Am Shamefully Enslaved. I Am Azrifel Of The Ninth Dominion Of The Damned. I Can Find Anything – Even The Power To Talk To You. That Is My Power.
    ‘For Five Years I Have Laboured Mightily For This Jumped-Up Pig Of A Nouveau Riche Former Fisherman, Spiriting To This Somewhat Pretentious Palace Such Gifts Of God As Are Unclaimed By Other Collectors Or In The Possession Of Collectors Unfortunate Enough To Have Demons Weaker Than I. I Have Combed The Depths Of The Sea And The Bowels Of Volcanoes, I Have—’
    ‘Hold it,’ said Kin. ‘The flying carpet, the table,these damn money purses – they’re Gifts of God?’
    ‘Aye. The Carpet I Liberated From A Merchant In Basra, The Table I Found Encrusted With Barnacles On The Sea Floor—’
    ‘But your master doesn’t know how they operate? I mean, they’re just magical items to him?’
    ‘Aren’t They, Then?’ said the demon, grinningly.
    ‘Just as I thought,’ snapped Marco. ‘He’s just an ignorant man who doesn’t know any more about the nature of the disc than does anyone else in these parts. I’ll take out these guards, then we’ll grab him and ride the carpet out of here.’
    ‘Wait a minute,’ said Kin sharply.
    ‘What for? He knows nothing except how to operate the toys this creature finds for him.’
    Kin shook her head. ‘Just once, let’s try diplomacy,’ she said. ‘Demon, tell your master we are not Collectors. We will give him these flying belts for his collection if he transports us on his magic carpet to the circular island that lies off the coast to the south-east of here.’
    She knew she had said something wrong as soon as the words were out of her mouth. When Azrifel’s translation died away Abu’s face went white.
    Marco sighed, and stood up. ‘Okay, so much for diplomacy,’ he said. He sprang. So did Azrifel. There was a grey and yellow blur in mid-air and asmall thunderclap. Then the demon was back, unruffled. Marco had