The Four Realms

by Adrian Faulkner

  Maureen started walking along the street doing her best to avoid the crowds, from goblins only a few feet high to trolls that towered over her. She passed an electronics store, the contents of which made Soviet era Russia look progressive. Beside a display of various Walkmans, a large poster advertised that telephony was coming to New Salisbury next year. The rotary dial phone on the poster was even older than the one in Maureen’s home. “Pre-Order early to avoid disappointment,” the poster read.

  Maureen tried not to stare at the sights around her, instead consulting the map and heading south down a side road. Not as busy but still she had to weave in and out of people large and small.

  “Can I interest you in our offers on meat today, Madam?” an Adlet asked Maureen, stepping towards her on the canine feet that denoted his race. “We’ve got a special on rat and pigeon.” He smiled showing large canine teeth.

  Baskets of all variety of dried meats were arranged on a table in front of the shop. The Victorian façade was such a marked difference from the large windowed shop front selling trainers next door.

  “No. No, thank you,” Maureen replied, backing away from the strange creature, her head bumping into the dried snakes that were hanging from the shop awning.

  She hurried along, consulting her map at every street corner. The shops gave way to residential areas, spacious three story flat-topped terraced houses with iron railings and steps up to the front door. The traffic and pedestrians ebbed, although echoes from the main streets reverberated across the city.

  She passed through a labyrinth of these back roads, before emerging onto a cobbled road that ran alongside a river. She went over and peered over the iron railings to see mudflats where the river should be, small fishing boats beached on them.

  "Tide must be out," she muttered to herself as she looked downstream, trying to make out what looked like a harbour …

  In the distance, huge cargo airships rose, metal circlets sat on cushions of air, presumably taking goods from the port further inland. Gulls chattered above, the hint of the ocean on the breeze, as Maureen consulted the map once again and looked toward a line of fishermen cottages alongside the road. "It's here," she told herself.

  Next to the cross that marked the location was written the number 49. She scoured the line of houses. There was 45 and the one next to it was 47, so this one - the one with the red door, how typically Ernest - had to be 49.

  She stood there relieved she'd found it. She went to touch it as if it wouldn't be real unless she did so, when the door flung open to reveal a wizard standing there. She immediately glanced down to the ground, in case he recognised her. But in that split second, she'd got a good look at his face and was relieved that it wasn't anyone she recognised. She was good with faces, even if she wasn't good with names.

  "You must be the cleaner," the wizard grumbled. "About time. I know we said late in the day, but this is ridiculous."

  Maureen didn't know what to say, her heart was racing and she thought it might burst out of her chest there and then.

  "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "They didn't say."

  The wizard huffed.

  "Here," he said. Taking her hand and thrusting some coins in it. "The boxes are upstairs. A removal firm will be coming to collect them first thing tomorrow morning, so no need to move them, just fill them with the books."

  "Books," agreed Maureen still trying to take everything in.

  "Look," said the wizard, his anger subsiding. "I've got a poker game tonight." He rummaged in his robes before pulling out a key and handing it to her. "I'm supposed to supervise, but it's not like there's anything worth nicking in there. You couldn't just lock up after you finish and post the key through the letterbox? The removal guys have their own key."

  Maureen nodded.

  "Thanks," The wizard said, stepping out the door and past her. "I dunno know why we couldn't just get some acolytes to baby sit. Still I don't suppose it bothers you if someone's here or not."

  Maureen wanted to ask the wizard what he knew about the man who lived here, but she dare not. Instead, she just backed into the doorway.

  "Thank you," she said.

  The wizard probably took her for someone who didn't speak a lot of English as he just smiled, turned and walked back toward the city whistling to himself. Maureen waited until he turned the corner, before stepping inside and closing the door to the outside world. She let out a gasp of air.

  Her heart was still beating fast. What if he'd recognised her, what if he'd been suspicious and called in Rofen or one of the other wizards that knew her? Suddenly, this was no longer an adventure and she was questioning what she was doing here. What had she been thinking when she'd stepped through that gateway? This was madness. If she didn't get herself killed through turning down some wrong alley, how on earth was she going to get back? What if Joseph was now banging on her door? What if the Inquisitor had come back for his dropped file?

  She tried to stop herself hyperventilating. What was done was done, so she might as well get on with what she came here for. She looked around.

  It was a lot smaller and lot more modern than she expected. The front door opened into a small square lounge, the two-seater sofa dominating what little space there was. Windows gave her a look onto the street, and on the opposite side, a small unkempt garden. Ernest had never been one for gardening, as much as Maureen had tried to entice him. However, she was pleased that he did keep a large number of pot plants that were dotted around the place, geraniums mostly,

  At the opposite end of the lounge two rooms led off, equal in size, one a kitchen that looked only slightly older than Maureen's - she'd had her cooker thirty years now and, touch wood, it was still going fine. In the other was a small bathroom; no shower, just bath, toilet and sink. A few feet in front of Maureen and the front door, stairs led up from the lounge to the floor above.

  As houses went, it was fairly basic, but it appeared to have electricity and a running water supply; far more than Maureen expected. She'd expected castles and candlelight and wooden benches. Of course she had no way of knowing whether this was indicative of the whole of New Salisbury or whether being a wizard granted him some special privileges. Surprising that Ernest never said, but then perhaps the issue was her misperception that Venefasia hadn't moved on. I guess everyone appreciates electricity and sanitized water, she thought.

  She was brought out of her daydreaming by a knock at the door.

  "Who is it?" she asked before she'd had time to think. She should have just remained quiet, pretended that no-one was here.

  "I come clean," came a voice in broken English on the other side of the door. Maureen needed to get rid of her quickly before anyone came along and questioned why there were now two cleaners.

  She opened the door, and thought there was no-one there until she looked down and saw the Gnome woman standing there, hair done up in a beehive as she drew on a cigarette that whilst normal size seemed as big as her forearm.

  "You're late," Maureen said sternly.

  "You trying being on time when you have three kids and lazy layabout husband," the woman scoffed, before blowing a smoke circle big enough for her to climb through.

  "Well, I'm sorry, we had to get someone else."

  "Motherfucker!" the Gnome exclaimed. "A couple of hours. That's all."

  "Times are hard," Maureen shrugged. "The early bird catches the worm."

  "Early what? Fucking wizards, all same. Think they can stamp on little folk cos they have mana mojo."

  The gnome took a long puff on her cigarette, then threw it to the ground and stamped it out before exhaling long and slow.

  "Fuck, I need this job," she said.

  "Well," said Maureen, feeling guilty, "How about I give you something for your trouble?"

  The Gnome looked up, her expression not revealing any form of gratitude or pleasure. She just stuck out her hand.

  Maureen rummaged in her pocket and pulled out the largest coin the wizard had given to her. Even the
Gnome couldn't hide her surprise as her eyes seemed to slightly bulge at the sighte of it.

  She placed the coin in the Gnome's hand and the Gnome immediately snatched it away, before looking at it, and saying with fake nonchalance, “it'll do."

  Maureen knew she’d probably paid her far too much, but then it wasn't her money to begin with, so no real loss. The Gnome scurried away before there was chance to question the payment.

  With the real cleaner now gone, Maureen could get to work. The wizard had said the boxes were upstairs, so on closing the door, she proceeded carefully and slowly up the stairs, trying not to look at the portraits of Ernest that lined the wall, and especially that one of a little cottage that looked remarkably like her own. Did Ernest paint? She'd never known. So many secrets. No, not secrets, things she'd never bothered to find out. Too busy wrapped up in her own world to worry about others.

  The floor plan of the first floor matched that of the ground. In place of the lounge, stood a small library, bookcases along all the walls, a well-worn armchair in the centre. Above the bathroom and kitchen were two bedrooms. One looked like it has been used to store things, filled with boxes and papers, but the other was relatively tidy. A small wooden bed was up against the wall, Ernest’s bed.

  She sat on the edge of it and wept in mourning for her friend. All doubts about why she was here faded. She'd find that notebook, and somehow, she'd find his killer.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Mr West Takes Charge

  Mr West had elected to teleport to tonight's meeting, rather than walk the streets of New York. He'd done that once and saw no need to do it again. Besides, the snow had been churned to slush and was now starting to freeze. Last thing he needed was to slip and break a bone. Did he even have real bones to break?

  It had been a busy twenty four hours and West was feeling pleased with himself. No, he'd not turned up the missing notebook, but he'd executed his mission against the vampires with lightening efficiency. Say what they like about him using probability, everything had gone to plan. A few more days rounding up the stragglers and he'd have that notebook, he was sure.

  That was the other reason to teleport to the meeting. Whilst the effects always gave him a slight nausea, he didn't want to take the focus away from his results. Tonight wasn't a night for being contentious.

  Mr West noticed that Mr East was missing. So perhaps the rumours were true? He must admit he had mixed emotions about it. He had anticipated Magellan to have doubts about his performance and make his colleagues check up on him. However, he'd not expected anything to happen. Mr East was a competent enough operative that reports of the Vampire Council burning down didn't seem to be an accident. 'Accident', such a Human word. There were no such things as accidents in Mr West's book, just poor data models.

  But the fact remained that the Vampire Council building was no more, and if the rumours were to believed, Mr East as well.

  He looked at Magellan across the room, trying to assess whether this was something he had engineered, or something that had gone wrong. Was it the case that Magellan had ordered the Vampire Council burned down, or had something happened there?

  That was what annoyed him most if he was honest. He'd been efficient with his planning. All major vampire strongholds hit within a four hour window. Quick, effective, yet still no closer to the vampire that may have taken the notebook.

  "So what progress have you made?" Magellan asked, his words venomous. 'You made' - interesting, he was already distancing himself from West. No matter, East's death, if that indeed had been his fate, had rattled Magellan. West could see that, and he would exploit it.

  "I'd like to know why you are burning down my crime scenes," West replied, casting a glance sideways to Mr North and South, "allegedly with my colleagues inside it."

  He could see the reaction: the narrowing of the eyes, the pursing of the lips. He loved how these bodies betrayed emotion.

  "You have eradicated an entire race," Magellan responded.

  West shrugged, "that's war for you. It's an ugly business."

  "And are we any closer to the notebook?"

  "You tell me."

  Something had happened at the Vampire Council, and all evidence had now burned away. Maybe it was one of the stray vampires that his teams were now picking off. But maybe it was something more. He cursed himself for not searching the building properly but he was following hundreds of different leads, and he'd presumed the council building would still be standing twenty-four hours later.

  But he felt it. Somewhere deep down, in his human stomach, a knot that seemed to form, a pain that told him somehow that this was something he should follow. Instinct, is that what they called it?

  He looked at North and South. Silent now. Oh yes, the wind had been taken right out of their sails.

  "Mr West," Magellan started, "I find your attitude... disingenuous."

  West just shrugged. Magellan had lost credibility in his eyes.

  "I'm trying to do a job here," West replied curtly. "And it's not being helped by your..." he searched his mind for a human word, "... goons here."

  "That's it," snapped Magellan, "I'm reporting you to the Dictatoriat. This has gone far enough."

  West remained calm.

  "By all means. Perhaps you could explain why you felt it necessary to have Mr East check up on my work."

  Magellan flushed. He knew what West meant.

  "I mean," West continued, determined to drive his point so there could be no doubt, "it wasn't my actions that caused his death. Oh and let's not forget, Mr Magellan that as the senior officer, you sanctioned my course of action."

  "I said I didn't approve."

  Amazing, thought Mr West, how the voice exposed so much of one's thoughts. That slight quiver indicating that Magellan was rattled. Mr West couldn't help but smile.

  "You were still the presiding officer. Let's face it, I'm so low down the food chain, the Dictatoriat will probably just downgrade my fate, but you...” he tutted, “you they would make an example of."

  Oh, Mr West, he thought to himself, how you have made some enemies here this evening. He'd have to watch his back. The knives would no more be out than they were before, but they'd probably want to stab more viciously. This pleased him.

  Magellan was stunned into silence, realisation that what West had said was most likely true. And North and South stood stunned by the interchange. They were out their depth, confused and frightened by this level of chaos. Bet you don't have a data model for this, thought West.

  Magellan looked at West and those eyes betrayed his helplessness. Mr West didn't even need to fight. He turned to Mr North and South.

  "Mr North," he said. "I want you to try and establish what happened at the Vampire Council. Forensics, CCTV, people's YouTube videos, whatever it takes. Mr South, you're to come with me and assist me in tracking down the remaining vampires. One of them was at that body."

  They both looked at Mr Magellan before returning their glance back to West.

  "We're all in this together now," said West with a friendly smile. "And I'm the one who is going to get us out of it."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - The Intruder

  Maureen hadn't got very far with packing Ernest's books. She didn't want to arouse suspicion by having the removal men turn up and find the cleaner hadn't done any work. Besides it was as good a way to search for Ernest's notebook as anything.

  They've probably already found it and taken it, she told herself. But there might be other clues, another notebook or a diary, that might give her some indication of who murdered him. Given that the wizards had entrusted the job of packing his books to an outsider, Maureen didn't think that they were taking the job of finding his killer very seriously. That left her.

  But the books were a distraction. Most were in old Elvish and impossible to read, but some had some wonderful black and white illustrations that she lost a lot of time to. Then there was the odd spell book in English, mostly acolyte stuff for when they were still learning to re
ad the Elvish. She picked up one book: "An Acolyte's First Steps to Mana Manipulation" - why they couldn't call it magic was beyond Maureen. This book seemed familiar, and she thought it resembled one of the old text books Ernest used to bring round when he was a child, until she flicked through, saw her own handwriting and realised that it was the very same. He'd probably not returned it to the Friary for fear that someone might discover a girl had been looking at magic. She laughed at this.

  "I won't betray you now, Ernest," she said, and put it to one side with a view to taking it home and keeping it hidden. She'd broken so many rules today that possession of a wizarding text really didn't even rank amongst them.

  She smiled to herself as she reminisced on those old times. She particularly remembered the jam sandwiches her mother used to make for them, the flavours still vivid in her mind. Jam like no other, how she wished she'd asked her mother for the recipe before she passed. How many things she wished she'd said to Ernest before he passed. So many regrets. She wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek, and returned to work.

  It was a hot night - compared to her own realm, it was like a sauna - and so she had opened the upstairs windows. But there was no draft to shift the stuffy air. She mopped her brow and sat down in the armchair. She'd now gone through, even if she hadn't packed, three quarters of the bookcases. Yet still no notebook.

  He must have had it with him, she concluded. This was a waste of time and once again she questioned the madness of even being here, reason taking the forefront of her mind once again. She'd finish packing the books and get out of here before the arrival of the removal men. What time did the wizard say they were arriving?

  As if in answer there was a knock on the door. Maureen froze, before remembering that as "the cleaner" she was supposed to be here. Perhaps the wizard had been wrong and the removal men were coming tonight? That would be that, then, she told herself, they'd come and she'd have no more time to search. In her exhausted state there was part of her that was a little glad.