by Martin Ash
I glanced down queasily at the creaking planks beneath my feet. Between them the glistening liquid mud was uncomfortingly visible and close. The dull sun gleamed off the surface of the misted swamp all around. We seemed to be making for the very end of the long jetty. My unease increased and I suppressed a shudder.
‘The breeding season has just begun, as it happens,’ said Wirm, aside, as we approached the end of the jetty.
The water here was quite deep - how deep I could not tell. From this point access to the eel-tanks was gained solely by the use of rafts. The tanks were formed of rows of long stakes sunk into the mud, lashed together and hung with fine-meshed netting. Each tank measured perhaps twenty cubits square.
In the nearest tank a naked man lay spreadeagled on his back upon a raft. His wrists and ankles were bound with rope secured to four stout wooden posts sunk into the muddy water. His mouth was bright red and he was shivering with cold. Standing on the raft, close to his head, was a guard, leaning on a long quant.
Seeing us standing above him the prisoner raised his head and fixed his eyes upon Wirm. He strained against his bonds and from his mouth came a garbled gurgling sound. Blood poured down his chin and jaw. I realized that his tongue had been tom out.
I realized too, with a feeling of sudden disquiet, that I knew the man. He was Vecco, who had been Wirm’s guest in his manse the previous evening.
‘Master Cormer, here is the villain responsible for ordering your murder last night,’ announced Wirm.
Vecco rocked his head from side to side, his bestial voice rising as his stump of a tongue struggled hopelessly to shape once-familiar words.
‘Are you sure of this?’ I said.
‘Oh, absolutely sure. He has confessed.’
‘But I don’t know the man. Who is he? What was his motive?’
‘That is unclear, but I suspect jealousy.’
‘Jealousy?’
‘Of me. I have suspected a conspiracy to bring the House of Wirm into disrepute for some time now. Somebody has been endeavouring to learn the secrets of Twiner farming for their own ends. Last night Vecco tried to have you murdered so that blame would have fallen upon me. I would have lost the business with Chol - and, more, would have been looked upon with suspicion by others.’
Something didn’t ring quite true. I stared down at the desperate Vecco. Beside me Jaktem said, in a tense voice, ‘It would have been interesting to hear his version of events.’
I glanced aside at him, and saw that he was bristling.
‘I have heard him, be assured,’ said Wirm. ‘His actions last night were the culmination of a series of occurrences. I had suspected him for some time, but had no proof. Last night he gave himself away. Now, to reassure you, sir, please witness that justice has been done.’
Wirm gave a signal to the guard on the raft, who leaned heavily to his quant. As the raft eased away, Vecco, secured to the posts, slid slowly from the raft into the water. He disappeared momentarily beneath the surface, then came to the top, spluttering and coughing, coated in green and brown slime.
‘Stop this, please,’ I said. ‘I do not wish this. There is no need for further torture.’
I had no inkling of what was to come. Wirm shook his head. ‘He has been found guilty of a gross crime. It is only right that he pay in kind.’
There was a small gate fitted into the tank-side furthest away from us, and the raft bumped against it. In the tank beyond I could see that the dark surface of the water was disturbed. The guard bent carefully and lifted the gate.
The disturbance on the other side increased, the foul water rippling and roiling. It began to flow through the gate, a tiny storm on the surface, signalling something below, something unseen, which surged directly towards the hapless Vecco.
Quite suddenly a growth began to form along Vecco’s side. Thick, quivering tendrils like hanks of sleek, smooth hair, mottled slate-grey merging into dark olive-green and charcoal-black. Vecco threshed, roared. The hair began to appear all over him, on his legs, arms, around his head, imbued with its own fierce energy. He sank for a moment, but his bonds would not let him go far. When he resurfaced he was a mass of writhing, shuddering tentacles. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Vecco was no longer visible, had become a tormented marsh creature which churned and plunged and threshed, and then gradually grew still as the filthy water around it reddened.
Wirm watched with fevered eyes; the pink tip of his tongue slipped out and snaked along his upper lip. Jaktem beside me was stiff with unvoiced emotion. Ilian was ashen-faced, trembling slightly.
‘That was unnecessary,’ I said between clenched teeth, but Wirm seemed not to have heard me. He was at the edge of the jetty, kneeling, gazing down into the water.
.
‘Ah, my children, my sweet ones. That’s better now, isn’t it? That’s better.’
I suppressed an urge to step forward and push him from the jetty. How then would he like his pets?
‘I shall return, if I may, to my chamber,’ I said. Wirm gave no reply, but the sergeant of the escort gave a nod. I looked for the last time into the eel-tank. What remained of Vecco still hung sagging in the thick, mucky water, bobbing slowly, held by its four ropes. A few eels continued to feed on tatters of ruined flesh, but most had eaten their fill and swum on. One of Vecco’s near-fleshless hands quivered slightly and a ghastly breathy sound escaped the pit of his mouth. He was still alive.
No petition I might make would change anything now. Vecco’s condition was, as Wirm had described it, one in which life could not be sustained. I just hoped that his agony might be short-lived. I turned away, leaving Wirm to his musings, and beckoning to Jaktem and Ilian to follow. Three guards escorted us back down the long jetty, through the processing shed to the gate of the compound. From there we were allowed to proceed unchaperoned to The Leaping Twiner.
Eight
Our chamber had been ransacked, though there had been virtually nothing there to take. Money and other small items I kept secure on a belt at my waist, and when I had fled the chamber I had taken with me my pack which contained the green amber, the precious gidsha root and sundry accoutrements. Out of desperation I had endeavoured to discard the pack in the marsh, but by sheer good fortune it had remained with me throughout my ordeal. Jaktem and Ilian, too, had left hardly anything at the inn.
This left me wondering whether it had been only my death that Vecco - I accepted for the moment Wirm’s version of events - had sought. Might his intention also have been to relieve me of specific possessions? I had revealed the green amber at Wirm’s manse in Vecco’s presence. Vecco had bestirred himself to look at the piece, and I remembered the curious look he had given me then. A whole realm of dark intentions seemed now, upon reflection, to have been contained in that look, yet I could draw no single conclusion.
Could he have been after the amber last night? Why? Or had he some inkling that I carried gidsha? The latter possibility held chilling implications. No one outside of the Hierarchy knew that I had the gidsha. Was it possible that I had been betrayed by one of my own people?
I calmed my thoughts, for I was close to entertaining hysterical notions. Reluctantly I had to accept that I would probably never know the real reasons for Vecco’s attempt on my life.
The landlord of The Leaping Twiner demanded recompense for the damage caused to his property. I felt it was hardly for me to accept responsibility, but I paid him anyway rather than cause a row. A short while later there was a knock at our chamber door. I opened it to find Wirm outside with two guards. He produced a small leather scrip, gathered and tied at the neck, which he held out to me.
‘Master Cormer, I am here with humble apology once again. I learn that the unprincipled fellow who runs this establishment demanded payment of you for last night’s damage. Here - here is your money back. I have settled with him, in full.’
‘There is no need.’
‘I insist, sir. He had no right, and his action brings shame upon me. Please, do not re
fuse.’
‘Very well.’ I accepted the scrip and thanked him.
‘Is all in order now?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
‘Nothing has been taken?’
‘It seems not.’
‘Very good. Now, one other thing. It was as I recall your stated intention to leave for Dhaout this morning. Most unfortunately you have been prevented from doing that, and I do not imagine you still plan to leave today, do you? It is already past noon. Then let me repeat the offer I made yesterday evening, that you accompany me. I have revised my plans and will be departing early tomorrow. You will be safe in my company and, all things being as they are, I consider myself bound and beholden to attend to your welfare as far as possible. Would you do me the honour, then, of travelling with me? In Dhaout I can introduce you to persons of influence, if you so wish, possibly even including The Excellency himself.’
It would have been quite unreasonable and therefore difficult to refuse now, though I did not savour the prospect of Wirm’s close company. Personal feelings aside, there were obvious advantages to travelling with him, as he had so deftly pointed out. So I smiled and gave him my thanks and accepted his offer.
Wirm writhingly expressed his pleasure. ‘Regrettably I must absent myself this evening as I have important duties to attend to. But please avail yourself of all that Guling Mire has to offer. Your account at The Leaping Twiner has been settled in full. Let us meet at the gate at dawn tomorrow.’
He nodded and departed.
*
So it was that four days later I rode into Dhaout in the company of Wirm of Guling Mire, at the head of a train of three wagons escorted by a score of mounted guards. Wirm’s cargo was, I assumed, elver flesh in some form or forms, plus diverse goods for which he had a market in the conflict-torn city. At one point during the journey I had questioned him about Vecco, hoping to learn something of the man’s origins, his purpose for being in Guling Mire and his relationship with Wirm. But Wirm was hardly forthcoming, saying only that he had known Vecco for some time and that he deemed him a treacherous snake which the world was well rid of. I asked also about Wirm’s connections with Feikermun, trying to build up a more accurate picture of Feikermun himself. But again Wirm was circumspect in his replies, and I learned virtually nothing that I did not already know or had not at least surmised.
We arrived at Dhaout to find open warfare on the streets. Without Wirm, who knew the optimum route into Feikermun’s quarter and was treated with some deference, I doubt that I would have entered unharmed.
The first thing I noticed was the smoke. It was visible from a good distance away. Tall plumes and columns leaned almost motionless in the near-breathless air, varying in colour from white to grey to soot-black, rising ominously from one area of the city. It was visible from the road which wound through the low hills that let on to the wide flat plain upon which Dhaout had grown. The city itself spread like a scab across the plain, a mass of predominantly low buildings, many of wooden construction, sprawling in ramshackle, haphazard manner as though without plan. Here and there were grander edifices, the decaying palaces and turreted manses of Dhaout’s wealthier citizens. A high curtain wall encircled the inner city, but much of Dhaout’s population lived outside this, protected only by wooden palisades, ditches, dirt mounds or, as was often the case, nothing at all.
Wirm reined in his horse.
‘There is fighting,’ he said. He shielded his eyes with one hand and scanned the city. ‘It appears limited to a section of the northeastern quarter, if the fires are anything to go by. Probably the Stonemarker district.’
He explained that Stonemarker in northeastern Dhaout was a disputed area of control between Feikermun and Malibeth. It had been held originally by Feikermun, then wrested from him some months ago in a fierce battle with his renegade brother, Gorl. Feikermun had won it back again, but upon Gorl’s demise and the rise to eminence of Gorl’s deadly lover, Malibeth, it had again fallen under bloody contest. Stonemarker also lay on the primary route into Dhaout from the east, along the Wetlan’s Way extension.
‘Such fools,’ muttered Wirm. ‘They should be paying homage if they hope to survive. The Excellency is so close now. They do not know.’
The words sent a chill down my spine. ‘So close?’ I enquired, as casually as I could.
Wirm nodded. ‘He is to be Supreme.’
‘The signs are that his adversaries share the same objective.’
‘Ah, but they do not have his vision, sir.’ Wirm turned to appraise me with sliding eyes. ‘They have not access to the power. They cannot conceive of what The Excellency has in store.’
It was the strongest validation of the Zan-Chassiri's fears that I had heard. It implied, too, that Wirm was in some wise involved with, or at least party to some degree in, Feikermun’s plans.
‘What does he have in store?’
Wirm merely gave a taut, mute, weighted smile. His cold eyes travelled down my body, over my horse and out to gaze again upon Dhaout. He signalled the captain of his guard forward and the two conferred briefly, then Wirm announced, ‘We will skirt around to the west a little way and enter from the south. We will leave the main road in a short while. Be alert.’
A secondary way, little more than a cart track, led off into the woods further down. Along this we travelled for another hour, through rough country close to the base of the low hills, until we came upon another, better-maintained road which cut up from the south towards the city. Before long the first buildings began to appear, small isolated wooden huts and hovels, becoming denser as we approached Dhaout’s walls. The faintest hint of a breeze blowing our way brought the reek of smoke to my nostrils; it coloured the air around us with a bluish haze.
Nearing Dhaout’s high main wall we entered a shanty town, a slum consisting of hundreds of lean-tos and motley shacks built with spare wood and sacking or tarpaulin and little else. People watched as we rode by. They were clothed in rags, their faces filthy and gaunt, apathy and hunger in their eyes. Some approached with their hands held open before them. Fleshless children ran alongside us, calling up for food or coin.
At the city gate a small queue of traffic had formed. Everything was under the scrutiny of Feikermun’s guards. Wirm’s captain urged his horse to the front of the queue, roughly barging people out of his way, and spoke to the sergeant at the gate. The man glanced towards us, then turned and barked an order. A squad of soldiers - clad in soiled and faded livery of red-and-blue check crossed with a jet lightning bolt - rushed forward and, with much shouting and jostling, cleared the waiting people and their carts and wagons from before the gate. The sergeant waved us forward. He saluted Wirm as he rode by, and we continued unhindered into the city.
Ahead I saw a strange and macabre sight. Three makeshift gibbets had been erected beside the road. They were smaller than average, perhaps three-quarter-sized, and from each the carcass of a dog hung by its neck. A little further on were two more, and more beyond that. By the time we had gone a hundred paces we had passed the bodies of no less than a score of hanging dogs. A few were only pups, but the majority were mature beasts. Some had plainly been swinging for several days; their cadavers were pestered by flies and gave off a stomach-turning stench.
‘What is happening here?’ I enquired of Wirm.
‘What, this? The hounds? The Excellency issued a decree that they should all, to the last one, be slaughtered and their bodies displayed. Dhaout is to be wholly rid of dogs. He does not trust them.’
‘Does not trust them?’
‘He was menaced one day by a wolfhound. He believes that it and all its kind are in Malibeth’s employ. Their extermination will teach his enemy a lesson.’
I turned from the canine corpses to stare at Wirm. His face gave away nothing. We rode on.
‘My destination is Feikermun’s palace,’ Wirm said, nodding along a dusty street, bordered with plane trees, towards which we rode. Beneath every tree stood a forlorn figure who watched us in
expectantly. ‘What of you, Master Cormer? Can I be of service to you? Recommend a place to stay? Make introductions? You said you had business with somebody in Dhaout. Perhaps I can help in some way?’
‘As it happens, Master Wirm, my main business is with His Excellency, Feikermun of Selph.’
There was a flicker of surprise across Wirm’s narrow features. A slight frown furrowed his brow and his gaze settled on my clavicle with interest. ‘Is His Excellency aware?’
‘No.’
‘You should have said earlier, Master Cormer.’