The Wheel of Osheim (The Red Queen's War 3)

“Pathetic.” A swipe of his arm and she was flying away, her torso separating from her legs.

I backed away, arms raised to shield my head. I needed more. And in an instant there were half a dozen more mannequins between us, arrayed in a variety of nonchalant poses. “More!” I moved away at speed, concentrating on creating more of them, remembering how it had been in the train den where all the tunnels met.

In an instant all the half-formed horrors were gone and I stood at the centre of Hemrod’s plasteek army, hundreds of them radiating out from where I stood; the only disturbances in the pattern being Snorri and Kara on their horses fifty yards back, looking amazed, Murder, who had already knocked over a dozen of the statues in temper, and Cutter John striding toward me, knocking my useless guardians aside.

“Defend me!” I dug deep for whatever it was that made the Wheel answer my call.

As one the plasteek army turned their heads toward Cutter John, and wordlessly those closest to the torturer threw themselves upon him, grappling his arm and legs, clawing at his eyes with hard plasteek fingers. He went down beneath them with an animal scream, more and more of my naked defenders throwing themselves upon the mound of bodies, burying him completely.

As the bulk of the army streamed toward the growing mound the heath cleared sufficiently for me to see Hennan standing close by and gazing at my faithful warriors striding past him. Snorri and Kara rode up, following the mannequins.

“Only you, Jal.” Snorri shook his head, trying to hide a grin. “What?”

“The power of the Wheel at your beck and call . . . and you make five hundred nude women?”

“You could have made a dragon,” Kara said. “Anything you can think of is possible.”

“Why didn’t you?” I may have sounded a little cross. “Here, boy!” I went across to Murder, making the tutting noise that calms him. Kara nudged her mare along behind me. “It’s much easier for you to fight your own creations. It’s very dangerous for two people to set their imaginations loose against each other. That’s how most wrong-mages die.” I looked around feeling inordinately pleased with myself. “I imagine I could do with a drink.”

The closest of the mannequins still guarding me turned to face us, holding out a golden goblet brimming with dark wine.

A faint grinding sound escaped the mound of warriors heaped upon Cutter John. I imagined they were reducing his bones to powder. “This doesn’t feel right.” Snorri dismounted beside me, staring at the confusion of bodies where Cutter John went under.

“I think I need to sit down.” I turned around to discover a richly upholstered reclining couch, rather like one I used not to be allowed to sit on as a child in Roma Hall. I fell into it, sinking in thick red velvet. “Ha! We’re like gods here!” I could have anything. The mannequin approached with my wine. She grew more like Lisa moment by moment.

She had long black hair now, falling around her shoulders, and her flesh looked softer, less like plasteek. I took the goblet. “Come here, Hennan!

I’ve got cake.” And I did, a towering edifice on five silver tiers, decorated with sugar paste and white almonds. I grabbed a handful and crammed it into my mouth.

Hennan joined me, returning my sword.

“We should go.” Snorri reached to pull me up.

I slid aside. “Calm down. You’ve got this place wrong.” I raised my palms, both cake-smeared. “I’ll admit I was a little worried back there too.

But look.” I paused to swallow sugary goodness, and nodded to the mannequin approaching with his axe. I’d modelled her on one of the dancers we met at Taproot’s circus.

One of the mannequins from the pile shot back, turning over twice in the air before it landed.

“Get on your damned horse, Jal. We need to go.” Kara gestured irritably toward Murder.

I sipped my wine and watched her. They’d made such a song and dance about the Wheel bringing your fears to life that I’d quite forgotten the good side of the equation. If this was any kind of taster for what things would be like after the Wheel had turned past the breaking point, then I was all for it.

The grinding noise from the pile had grown louder so I had to raise my voice over it. “Come on down, Kara. Let’s enjoy ourselves. It’s not often the world does what you want for once.”

Two more of the mannequins were blasted away from the mound, both snapped into several pieces. A torso landed close by, thumping down amid the heather. I patted the couch and the Lisa-quin sat beside me.

She was perhaps more generously proportioned than the original but one can’t control one’s imagination.