Sigholt did not so much scream in its dying, as it wailed. Its wails crept up and down the scale, a dirge to mourn its own passing, as well a melancholy lullaby to croon Tencendor through its prolonged dying.
Sigholt's incessant wailing was annoying the Demons hugely.
Qeteb, as did Sheol, Raspu, Mot and Barzula, strode up and down behind Roxiah, screaming abuse at Sigholt, shaking fists and exposing various bits of their anatomy as their anger took them. As each stone tumbled down, and Sigholt's wailing continued, the Demons grew more irked, their curses more foul, their exposings more puerile.
Why couldn't the cursed thing just collapse!
Finally, after hours of wailing, Sigholt obliged them. It had resisted Roxiah's destruction to a point where it just gave up: it was too tired, it had seen too much in its long life, and resisting Roxiah's power was, in the end, futile.
Besides, Sigholt knew that something better awaited. The Field of Flowers.
So it decided to just collapse. Implode. Create a mess.
The roar of collapsing masonry enveloped the Demons an instant after the dust and shrapnel of Sigholt's self-destruction struck them.
In a heartbeat the Demons' curses turned to gut-wrenching coughing as they struggled as far away from the rubble as they could.
Behind them, the rubble sighed, and passed on.
Qeteb finally managed to get his breath, and spit out all the black grime that had found its way down into his throat and lungs, and pick out the shards of rock from his anatomy.
"Spiredore!" he said. "Spiredore is next! Destroy the means of movement for the StarSon and his ineffectual helpers and for those cowering ants in Sanctuary, and we have them!"
"And after Spiredore?" Sheol said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
Qeteb glanced at her distastefully. "Then? Then Sanctuary. We will be there by the morning."
Sheol smiled.
StarDrifter threw open the door to WolfStar's chamber — the single Lake Guardsman on duty outside had been no match for StarDrifter's fury — and confronted the Enchanter.
WolfStar was alone in his sick chamber, sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his chest carefully with one arm as he coughed into a snowy cloth.
He looked at the cloth carefully — good, no blood — before he looked up.
"Well, well," he said softly. "If it isn't StarDrifter come to offer me his good wishes for my recovery
—"
He got no further, for StarDrifter had crossed the room in five strides and hit WolfStar as hard as he could.
WolfStar fell back across the bed, but made no move to either rise or strike StarDrifter himself.
"Did that make you feel better?" he said, his tone still soft, although more than sarcastic. "If you like, I could recommend you for a place in the Strike Force ... such aggression should not go unused."
"You piece of filth!" StarDrifter said, standing several paces away. His fists were clenched, although he held his arms rigid by his sides.
WolfStar raised an eyebrow. "What have I done now?"
Although StarDrifter had come to this chamber to accuse WolfStar of tampering with Zenith's already damaged soul, all he could think of were the past three thousand years in which WolfStar had manipulated and controlled, sending tens of thousands to their death along the way, and all the time justifying his every crime and sin as necessary for the achievement of the final end.
"What have you done?" StarDrifter whispered. "What have you done? Oh Stars! Don't get me started!"
"Zenith knows her own mind," WolfStar said, not in the mood for indirect conversations.
"Zenith knows her own mind?" StarDrifter began.
"Oh for the gods' sakes, man, stop repeating everything I say!"
StarDrifter stepped forward a pace. "Then let me say this! Were you the one who helped save her when Niah — with your encouragement! — tried to destroy her? What of my efforts, and Faraday's, in pulling her through the shadow-lands until she could reclaim her own body?"
"You meddlesome idiot. Perhaps it had been better that Niah had succeeded, for then she wouldn't be in the Demons' grasp!"
"Oh no, don't think to justify your own failures by blaming either me or Zenith —"
"I wasn't blaming Zenith," WolfStar put in quietly. He rose slowly from his bed, one hand still gripping his ribs.
"— when it was you who has done so much damage. You who put Niah into the Demons'
hands. You who —"
"Oh, shut up! What in Stars' sake did you come down here to say? Just say it and leave me in peace!"
"Keep your bloodstained hands off Zenith."
WolfStar gave a nasty smile. "I have hardly laid a single 'bloodstained' finger on Zenith, let alone an entire hand."
"Leave Zenith alone."
