‘Savast,’ said he grimly. ‘I wouldn’t have wasted your time, or Nanda’s either, only we’ve… got a problem.’
Konrad tried to see past him, to whatever it was he’d been guarding. But the daylight was fading fast, the underside of the bridge was not illuminated, and Alexander seemed to be trying to block his view of whatever it was.
‘Well,’ said Nanda, coming up behind him. ‘What is it?’
‘What it is, chiefly, is messy,’ he replied, and stepped aside.
Konrad moved forward, stooped over, but managed to strike his head against the damp, oozing boards of the bridge anyway. ‘Ow,’ he muttered, but the slight pain in his head vanished from his thoughts upon beholding Alexander’s “problem”.
A man lay there, or so Konrad supposed from the figure’s general proportions. Few identifying features were left, for the body had been brutally savaged. Half the face was missing, dissolved into a bloodied pulp; the deathly pallor of the rest was marred by great, blood-soaked gouges. The rest of the body was in much the same condition, the chest broken open, and the inner organs lacerated. Konrad had not light enough to determine whether any were missing, but he thought not. This had not been done with the precision of an organ-harvester. This was a frenzy of pure violence.
That did not preclude the possibility of someone or something’s having… eaten them, however.
Something indeed, for nothing about the man’s state suggested that ordinary mortal weapons had been used. ‘Those look like claw marks,’ he said.
The inspector nodded. ‘Or— or teeth.’
‘Nothing human, anyway.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Alexander agreed. ‘But is it an ordinary beast, either? I cannot think of any dog or — or even a wolf or something, that could have done this kind of damage.’
‘Is there something else?’ Konrad asked, for nothing that he’d seen or heard yet explained the inspector’s insistence on Nanda’s presence. Given the choice, Konrad himself would rather have protected her from such a sight.
‘Karyavin?’ said Alexander.
‘I was the first one on the scene, sir,’ said Karyavin. ‘A beggar found the body, and came to the police house to report it. When I got here, the corpse was thick with crows. Feasting, as you’d imagine; it is their nature. Only, they didn’t fly away.’
‘They aren’t here now,’ Konrad said, confused. ‘What do you mean, they didn’t fly away?’
‘They… dissolved, sir. Vanished. Faded out like shadows at dawn. I don’t quite know how to express it.’
Konrad drew in a breath. ‘You mean either that they were not ordinary corporeal crows, or that they departed by some means more ethereal than physical?’
‘I don’t know as to which of those might be the truth, but yes. Something of that kind. I’d swear to it.’
Konrad believed him. The young policeman was steady, and had never given any sign that he was prone to wild imaginings. And Alexander relied enough upon his testimony to bring Nanda and Konrad running.
‘Nan?’ said Konrad. ‘What do you think?’
Nanda had ceased to examine the unfortunate victim, and instead wandered along the width of the overarching bridge, running the fingers of one hand lightly over the boards. ‘The old stories say that bridges are places of crossing,’ she said. ‘Not just from one side of a body of water to the other, but in other ways, too. Crossing from one realm to another. One land to another. Long ago, the spirit-witches of Ekamet used to keep a close watch on Parel’s Bridge, for it was once known as the source of many a strange, creeping thing bent on causing havoc in the city.’
‘Not now?’ Konrad asked.
‘Their vigilance was such that the bridge fell increasingly into disuse, at least for that purpose. So it’s said, anyway. And so, they ceased to watch it so closely. This, perhaps, is the result.’
‘You think something has used the door,’ said Konrad.
‘So to speak, yes. Those crows certainly did. Whether they came out of the spiritlands in the first place, or merely fled that way when disturbed, one thing we can conclude is that a door was recently wrested open at this bridge, and something has used it.’
‘Is it closed now?’
‘Now it is,’ said Nanda, with a brief smile for Konrad. ‘I’ve made sure of it. I can’t say, though, that another might not be created. This is the kind of place that lends itself to such portals.’
‘Do they open up on their own,’ said Alexander, ‘or does someone have to make one?’
‘The old stories say they do open on their own, at certain times of the year,’ said Nanda. ‘I’m not sure that is true, however. It’s my belief that the barriers grow thinner, if that is a fair way of describing it, but they do not disappear altogether, only to obligingly reform themselves the next day. I think the formation of any portal has to be, at the least, helped along.’
‘So someone has done this.’ The inspector stood looking down at the ravaged corpse, an expression of bleak distaste on his usually mild-of-expression face.
‘That is hard to say. Someone made a door here, yes. Whether they did so in order that something capable of this should come through it, I couldn’t say.’
‘Do we know who this man is?’ Konrad asked.
‘The beggar identified him,’ said Karyavin. ‘A friend of his. Known only as Matenk. If he had a family name, or indeed a family, our informant knew nothing of it.’
Konrad had already surmised his beggar status, judging from the filthy and ragged state of his shredded garments. Many such folk used the shelter of the bridge at times of inclement weather, though it was riskier to do so at this time of year, with the waters rising. ‘Not murdered, exactly,’ he mused. ‘At least, not by a human hand. Which counts me out, in the regular way. This is not in my purview.’
‘Konrad,’ said Nanda severely. ‘If you mean to say that you’re going straight to bed and leaving Alexander to deal with this alone, I’d think that impossibly shabby of you.’
‘While I can’t deny that I am tempted by the idea, no. What I was actually doing was congratulating myself on the prospect of—’ He was going to say, of not having to slaughter someone at the end of this, but remembered Karyavin’s presence just in time — not to mention the other two police officers he did not know, both stationed some little distance away. ‘Of an unusual and intriguing problem,’ he finished.
Nanda gave him a wry look, which declared her perfectly aware of what he was actually thinking. ‘I’m minded to brush up on my folklore,’ she said. ‘I cannot immediately think of anything commonly dwelling in the spiritlands that might make this kind of a… mess.’
‘Or want to,’ said Konrad. ‘Spirit-fae and the like have found their way here before. They may make mischief, and sometimes they’re known to cause harm, but what they are not known to be in the habit of doing is running rampage like this.’
‘Which is a horrid thought,’ said Alexander. ‘Is it running rampage? Shall there be more such victims?’
A good question. Had the thing vanished back whence it had come, along with the disappearing crows? Or had it attacked this unfortunate soul, and then ventured out into the city?
Was it somewhere out there, preying upon more of Ekamet’s unsuspecting citizens? Or had it come here with some other errand in mind, and this frenzy of violence was not like to be repeated?
The latter questions could only be answered with time; sadly, little could be done but wait, and hope there came no reports of further such incidents.
Unless.
‘Nan, you can’t trace it, I suppose?’
‘I have no way of doing that.’
‘Nor your… er, friends?’
Nanda gave him a sour look. ‘My friends have enough of a claim on me already, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I would,’ he hastily agreed.
‘I don’t believe they can help, though. They cannot magically sense each other’s passage any more than humans can.’
Se
rpents? Konrad tried. Anything?
No answer came from Ootapi. He had gone back into the spiritlands himself, Konrad supposed, in pursuit of that other errand. But Eetapi answered. I sense nothing, she reported. If it is neither dead nor human, I am not interested.
Or capable, I take it.
Silence.
You have spent much time in the spiritlands lately, Eetapi. Have you seen anything there that could do this?
She took her time in answering, and Konrad felt a faint chill as she wafted down to inspect the remains for herself. No, Master, she finally decided. Not quite. But— there may perhaps be—
Yes? He prompted, when she fell silent.
I will investigate, she said, and faded away. Back, presumably, into the spiritlands, by some door ever-available to her. The Malykt’s gift. Konrad enjoyed such privileges himself, though rarely used them. The spiritlands were no pleasant place to while away the time.
Konrad wanted to investigate, too, but could not do so while Karyavin and the other policemen stood there. His presence here at all might occasion remark, for who was he to advise the police? His friendship with the inspector might prove explanation enough, just about, for Alexander Nuritov was known to value his insights (such as they were). But if he were to fade out like a shadow at dawn — as Karyavin had put it — striding into the spiritlands like a wisp of smoke himself, that would not pass without comment. And suspicion. City gentlemen did not ordinarily have the means or the inclination to go waltzing about in the ethereal realms.
So Konrad bided his time, joining in with speculation and surmise but without offering much by way of his true expertise. Let Nanda take the lead. Later, he would follow his serpents into the spirit-world and see what else he could see.
He wouldn’t tell Nanda, either. She would insist on going with him, and in her weakened state that must be dangerous to her. She had borne enough from the tricksy spirit-fae as it was; let the rest leave her in peace.
Chapter Two
Konrad had intended to conduct his explorations somewhere during the night; nearing dawn, perhaps, when the creatures that swarmed those hazy lands were beginning to think of rest. But urgency left him no peace. The case presented an interesting problem, but no mere academic one; the city’s people stood at risk, whether because the creature that had killed the unfortunate Matenk was still at large among them, or because whatever had permitted it to enter the city in the first place might occur again.
So Konrad waited only until darkness had swallowed Ekamet, and the hour grew enough advanced that the inspector’s men must have completed their work, and left.
Then he stole back to Parel’s Bridge. He had with him his snake-headed cane, more for confidence than because it could serve much useful purpose. He was dressed for the cold and the damp and the dark. He had a lantern, much good it might do him.
He made his way back to the spot in which Matenk had died, stepping carefully in the drowning dark. He did not wish to be fished out of the river in the morning, sodden and lifeless. What an ignominious way to end his career as the most dangerous person in Assevan.
The body was gone, removed to The Malykt’s temple by now. Nothing remained of the tragedy that had there occurred, save perhaps bloodstains. A hush reigned, and nothing moved. Word of Matenk’s fate had spread, Konrad guessed, and beggars had sought a safer shelter for tonight.
He did not know in precisely which spot the door from the spiritlands had opened, but it did not matter. He was close enough. Summoning his eerie, Malykt-gifted senses, he let the corporeal world fade from his sight, and mustered his spirit-vision in its place. This strange sight offered him a blended view of the world: the familiar contours of his home city, in all its streets and bridges and buildings, plus the ethereal spirit-plane that lay just behind everything, in which the mundane faded and the strange stood etched in brilliance.
He saw nothing out of place; nor had he earlier. The same hush prevailed, the same stillness.
A single step carried him over the threshold, landing his physical self on the strange side of the divide. Parel’s Bridge dissolved into the darkness. He saw instead a different landscape, still waters etched in stark white and edged in shadows. Dark trees rose like grasping hands on either side of this other river, decked in leaves of shadow. Rain fell, but a rain of glittering light rather than water, for no fresh deluge soaked Konrad’s coat.
He paused, motionless, every sense alert for sound — movement — anything that might herald danger. That, or the presence of the creature he sought.
Nothing.
Serpents. Konrad sent the call out far, and waited as it reverberated through the eerie silence of the spiritlands. Ootapi, he knew, would be far away, probably beyond reach.
Eetapi, though, soon answered. Master? What are you doing here?
Investigating.
But I was investigating.
We can both investigate, cannot we?
Yes, said Eetapi, but dubiously.
I take it you have not discovered anything of note, or I would already be hearing about it.
But I have. Unabashed glee in Eetapi’s whispery words. I have been following a trail. Go you over the bridge, Master, and you will see.
The bridge in question arched over the eerily still waters, not dissimilar in shape and proportion to Parel’s Bridge below. Konrad had not ventured upon it yet, for its surface did not display the comforting solidity of the other bridge. Like the rain, it bore a peculiar insubstantiality about it; Konrad caught glimpses of the water’s silvered surface, shining straight through it. Built for spirit-feet. Could it bear Konrad’s ordinary mortal weight?
He set forth a foot, and planted it upon the bridge. Shadows blossomed where his boot fell, boiled alarmingly around his foot, and streaked away in wisps.
Strange. But the bridge held, and Konrad took another step.
‘Konrad,’ came Nanda’s voice behind him, the word uttered in tones of exasperation. ‘I might have known.’
He whirled. There stood Nanda, wrapped in her red cloak (her current favourite, judging from the frequency with which she wore it). He could see little of her face, muffled as it was with scarves as well, but the eyes fixed upon him were lacking in such pleasantries as welcome or delight. In fact, she looked thoroughly annoyed.
‘What?’ he said. ‘Coming here must be a good idea, because here you are yourself.’
‘I at least have some passing familiarity with this place, and a vague sense of what I’m doing here,’ Nanda retorted. ‘Can you say the same?’
‘I have been here before.’ That was truth. He’d had to pursue a murderer through the spiritlands, once. A member of The Malykt’s Order, with some ambitious ideas about enslaved spirit-creatures. He had pulled it off with credit, hadn’t he?
‘A lot?’ Nanda said, striding toward him with the brisk step of a woman who knows exactly what she is doing. ‘And recently?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then you’d better let me lead.’
‘But you’re already—’
‘I know, but which one of us is the spirit-witch here? You or me?’
‘You.’
‘Which one of us, then, is better suited to, for example, not die up here?’
‘I am not without my abilities—’
Nanda interrupted this protestation with an inarticulate noise of disgust, swept past him, and marched off over the bridge without the smallest hesitation. Konrad watched, fascinated, as those odd wafts of shadow formed around her every footstep, and went sailing off into the night.
He hastened after her, half ashamed now of his own creeping, cautious progress. But then, she had just chastised him for what she evidently saw as another piece of recklessness, hadn’t she? Caution was good. Caution kept people alive.
Nanda displayed none of it whatsoever, for she was already disappearing into the looming trees on the other side of the water. A narrow path led the way into a close, shadowy thicket, one which Konrad would hesit
ate to enter with impunity had he any sense at all. Nanda evidently didn’t. He began to see how she had got herself into so tangled a mess with her pacts and her spirit-fae. She moved like she was a denizen of the spiritlands herself, and perhaps she saw herself that way.
But she wasn’t. She was as mortal as he.
Konrad hurried after her.
He caught up with her just inside the sinister wood, for she had stopped in the middle of the pale little path, and crouched down to inspect something.
There you go, Master, said Eetapi, as proud as though she had created whatever it was herself. He hoped she had not.
‘What have you found?’ he asked, bending over Nanda’s crouched form.
‘A trail, I suppose,’ said she. ‘Our mysterious creature passed this way, one concludes.’
So it seemed, for discarded among the moon-bright moss at the side of the path lay the broken remains of some creature to which Konrad could put no name. Humanoid in shape, it had once had two arms and two legs, he judged. Two of them were missing, torn off by gigantic claws; he saw one lying some distance away, but could find no sign of the other. The thing looked tiny and forlorn, lying there, its withered white face drained of life, its black eyes staring in death. It lay liberally covered in its own blood, which was not red in the way of humans but some odd, paler hue.
‘Goblin,’ said Nanda, regaining her feet. She barely paused, but went on again into the darkening depths of the wood, dauntless, despite this macabre evidence of recent dangers.
Konrad knew better than to remonstrate with her. Instead, he kept as close to her heels as he could, and bade Eetapi remain alert for any and all threats.
Nanda, though, did not give off the impression of a woman in any danger. She could not possibly have grown since entering the spiritlands, but Konrad could almost swear that she was taller. She radiated power, confidence and magic, and Konrad began to reconsider his assessment of a moment before. Human she might be, but she was in her element here.
How much time had she spent, walking these eerie paths? Was this where she had so often vanished to, when he could not find her, and did not know where she was?
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