Citadel

by Martin Ash

  Then it sprang.

  People scattered. The creature’s long claws ripped into the flesh of a woman too slow to get out of its way. She fell, crying out. The thing leapt upon her . . . and vanished.

  I ran forward. The woman lay dying, a great gash rending her open from shoulder to stomach and her face half torn away. There was nothing I could do for her. All around was pandemonium. People ran, shrieking and sobbing in terror; others gathered around the dying woman.

  Three soldiers appeared. Several men and women, speaking at once, tried to tell their sergeant what had happened.

  I backed away. Ilian and Jaktem were still with me. ‘Find out whatever you can,’ I said. ‘I will meet you later.’

  Leaving them, I made off quickly down a sidestreet.

  *

  The man I had decided to speak to now was named Vastandul. He ran a business from a small premises in a street close to Culmet’s Bazaar. Ronbas Dinbig had found him a useful source of information, given sufficient incentive, as well as being a knowledgeable trader with whom Dinbig had made a number of profitable transactions.

  Vastandul traded ostensibly in spices and exotic foods. He sold Grey-Backed Twiner meat among myriad other things. He also had many contacts in Dhaout’s underworld. Goods of dubious origin bound for even more dubious destinations passed regularly, if clandestinely, through his hands. His extensive network of agents and contacts ran throughout Anxau and elsewhere. I cannot say I liked him, but business is business and for any serious trader in Dhaout Vastandul was an essential man to know.

  The problem was that, while Vastandul was acquainted with Ronbas Dinbig, Linias Cormer was a complete stranger.

  I entered his shop with an uncertain feeling in my stomach. The familiar, heady smells of hundreds of spices and herbs entered my nostrils and I breathed in deeply, for the odour was oddly comforting. Ranks of wooden cabinets and shelves lined the shop walls, holding jars, urns, pots and vases; elsewhere were boxes, sacks, amphora and bins all filled with spices, herbs, seasonings, dried fungi, powdered bones, grasses, flowers, grains and other foodstuffs. Behind the counter sat a young woman in a grey smock dress, plump and attractive with long dark brown hair and deep brown eyes.

  ‘I wish to speak to Vastandul.’

  ‘Who shall I say is calling?’

  ‘My name is Linias Cormer. He does not know me. Tell him I have come from Khimmur.’

  I was taking a risk. Mention of Khimmur might well arouse the wrong kind of interest. But Vastandul was an astute man with an instinct for business. I gambled he would see me before deciding upon any course of action.

  I was right. Asking me to wait, the young woman left her seat and passed through an arched doorway hung with a dark blue curtain. Moments later she returned and held aside the curtain. ‘He will see you.’

  Stepping around the counter, I passed through into a short corridor.

  ‘The door at the end,’ the young woman said, though I did not need to be told. I approached the door and knocked.

  ‘Come.’

  I pushed open the door and stepped into the subdued light of Vastandul’s poky, cluttered rear office. Vastandul sat behind his desk, before him a large hookah from whose bowl rose wreaths of thick, pungent grey smoke. He was a huge, corpulent man of about fifty, with greased black hair and a thin black moustache. He wore a dirty, off-white linen robe, clasped with hooks and eyes at the front. As I entered he removed the mouthpiece of the hookah from between his lips and surveyed me with a glassy gaze. He extended a bloated hand, indicating a chair. Please, come in, be seated.’ He exhaled, coughing slightly, and a plume of thin blue-grey smoke pushed its way through the fug already filling the room. ‘You have come from Khimmur?’

  ‘Word from an associate brings me to you, as a person to be trusted and who knows the value of discretion.’

  ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘Information.’

  ‘On what subject?’

  ‘On my associate, Ronbas Dinbig.’

  Vastandul’s eyes narrowed between thick folds of flesh. ‘That is not a name that should be spoken of loudly around here.’

  ‘Be aware that I am not here in an official capacity. I seek only to clarify a mystery. Dinbig mentioned your name to me. Recently I learned that he died here. The circumstances are unclear. For personal reasons I would like to know what happened.’

  I took from my belt a small pouch containing several silver coins, and pushed it across the desktop. Vastandul did not even glance at it. He shrugged his massive shoulders, opening his hands. ‘I had not even known he was in Dhaout.’

  ‘He did not call on you?’

  ‘Nor on anyone known to me - and I know most, probably all, of Dinbig’s contacts here.’

  This was almost certainly true. I concealed my relief. My worst fears were unfounded, then. My double had not contacted anyone. In all likelihood he had not known anyone.

  Vastandul returned the mouthpiece of the hookah to his lips and inhaled deeply, then offered it to me. I shook my head. ‘Why was he killed? I have heard only second- and third-hand reports.’

  ‘He was a fool, and I would never have thought of him in that light. From what I am told he sold inferior cloth to one of Lord Feikermun’s aides - at an inflated price, what’s more. And then at the palace he availed himself of one of the women currently favoured by Feikermun himself. His brain must have been riddled with maggots - there is no other explanation. One does not play such games with Feikermun.’ Vastandul paused. ‘He suffered greatly before he died - as did the woman.’

  ‘Were you present at the execution?’

  ‘I?’ Vastandul shook his head, and his fat jowls and pale, heavy dewlaps swayed.

  ‘What was he doing at the palace? He had not been there

  before.’

  ‘Had he not?’ Vastandul eyed me sharply. ‘You are sure?’

  ‘I know only what he told me some time past,’ I said quickly, covering my slip. ‘My understanding was that he dealt once with Feikermun, but that was some years ago and Feikermun came to the Bazaar.’

  ‘Well, I did not know that Dinbig had contact with Lord Feikermun either, but...’ Vastandul spread his hands again and gave me a look that said all things were possible.

  Satisfied with what I had so far heard, I changed the subject.

  ‘I am told Feikermun is becoming a god.’

  Vastandul lifted his chins. ‘He is playing with forces most men would rather leave alone, but he is Feikermun, so...’

  ‘Do you know how he acquires the power?’

  ‘Our illustrious leader knows his own way. The laws of common men bend for him. It is not for one such as I to enquire into his affairs.’

  I nodded, understanding. Vastandul did not know me and my questions had begun to lead into areas where he would not venture with a stranger. To criticize or even discuss Feikermun in the wrong company could have terminal consequences. Yet the tone of his voice told me he had reservations in regard to Feikermun and his endeavours.

  I rose from my chair. ‘I thank you.’

  Vastandul inclined his head. As I was about to depart I said, ‘Oh, one more thing, if I may. I need directions to the Citadel.’

  ‘The Citadel?’ Vastandul’s thin black eyebrows arched, then a quizzical smile played upon his lips. ‘What do you know of the Citadel?’

  ‘Simply that I should go there, but I do not know how.’

  Vastandul’s smile broadened, though he lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head. ‘Only Lord Feikermun can tell you how to reach the Citadel, my friend. And should he ever do so, which I surely doubt, you will wish that he had not. Now, I bid you good day.’

  There was tension in the street outside. Word had spread of the manifestation of the huge rat-creature and the woman it had slaughtered. People stood in groups, stricken-faced. I could almost smell their fear: the thing had come from nowhere, out of the air. It could come again anywhere, at any time. What defence was there against something
like that?

  I moved on, into the bazaar and the inn where I had eaten earlier with Jaktem and Ilian. I ordered aquavit and took a seat where I could watch the door and the people who came and went. Vastandul would almost certainly have me followed. He would want to know my business, where I was bound, who I knew. Would it matter if it was reported to him later that I had gone to Feikermun’s palace? It would put him on his guard, but that would be all. I decided then not to put too great an effort into losing the tail he had assigned to me.

  I had several hours to spare before I needed to return to the palace. It would take only a short time to prepare the gidsha root for my appointment with Feikermun at sunset. I sat there for some time mulling over my thoughts, unsure of what to do next. Part of my mind, almost unconsciously, kept note of what was going on around me. And it was this part of me that spotted something out of the ordinary and brought me with a jolt bolt upright in my seat.

  It was only a glimpse, through the open door, of someone passing by. I wasn’t sure, yet it was enough to set the hairs at the back of my neck prickling and almost to bring a cry of disbelief from my throat. I was up and out of my chair and racing for the door. Scanning the marketplace I spotted the figure again, between the stalls, anonymous, garbed in grey and walking away from me towards the edge of the square.

  I ran, pushing past anyone in my way. My quarry turned a corner and entered a street. I was only a few paces behind him. I moved up, suddenly half-paralysed with fear, and reached out and touched him on the shoulder. He turned, and I stopped, dead, aghast, my worst fears confirmed.

  He was me. He was I. He was Ronbas Dinbig of Khimmur.

  His gaze was enquiring and perplexed. He did not seem to recognize me - how could he? - but I was astonished at what I saw: the extraordinary likeness to my true self. I was utterly lost for words, aware of my mouth opening and closing but emitting no sound other than a breathy, barely audible popping. He blinked, frowned slightly. His attitude was not hostile, nor did he show any fear of having been found out. Rather, he appeared unsure of himself, a little confused.

  I found my voice at last. ‘Who... who are you?’

  His frown deepened, and now I saw a tautness in his features - a challenge, a flash of indignation in his eyes. He stepped towards me; the air between us seemed to blur and shift. I felt something like a breath - a light, imploding gust of air against my face and torso. I reached out, but he had gone. Vanished.

  I heard a loud gasp from someone. I stood still in utter exasperation. I had lost him. I should have grabbed him, held on to him. What would have happened then? Would he still have disappeared? Would I have gone with him, or would I have been left standing where I was now, holding nothing?

  There was muttering around me. The street was fairly populated and several people had witnessed our brief exchange. My rushing to accost the man had drawn their attention. Among their number was a pair of Feikermun’s men, assigned to police the street. They marched up to me how.

  ‘What happened? Where did he go?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I saw his face,’ said one. ‘I have seen him before.’

  The second one nodded suspiciously. ‘Me too. He reminded me of someone.’

  I was too dazed to respond coherently. ‘I don’t know, who he was.’

  ‘You spoke to him.’

  ‘I thought for a moment that I knew him, that’s all. But you saw... we did not speak. He simply vanished.’

  Two more soldiers had arrived. I sensed the nervousness around me.

  ‘Come with us.’

  *

  ‘What was your business with this man?’

  ‘I had no business with him as such, Lord Feikermun. I merely thought he was someone I recognized.’

  ‘And was he?’

  ‘I cannot say. I’m confused. I’ve been told many times by numerous persons that the man I thought I saw is dead.’

  I winced as a series of agonized cries rent the air and drowned my words. We were in the banqueting hall where the orgy had taken place the previous day. Feikermun sat before me at a long table, garbed in a puff-shouldered tunic of red-and-white silk. Flanking him were Hircun, the one-eyed warrior, Bondo, Wirm and another man who I did not know. The heads of three of Malibeth’s slain fighters had been mounted on silver platters on the table. They had been squeezed between their own mutilated buttocks, garnished with beds of green nettle and thornbush sprigs; their mouths had been stuffed with pigs’ droppings so that their cheeks bulged, and the nostrils were blocked with the same; upon their crowns their severed genitals had been arranged to resemble grotesque, absurd little flesh bonnets. They had been positioned to face me, sightless and mutely inquisitorial, quite impervious to their final humiliation but blaring their warning of the possibility of mine.

  Further down the hall a man in an iron cage was being slowly roasted over a brazier. The cage was suspended on a heavy chain which ran through an iron ring attached to an overhead beam, then down to wind around a winch bolted to a stone column. The cage was narrow and tall, allowing the prisoner minimal movement other than upwards a few fingerlengths. Its bars, however, were sufficiently widely spaced to allow him to squeeze his arms and even legs through. It had been raised so that it hung directly over the glowing coals of the brazier, which was attended by two burly, sweating men in leather aprons.

  It seemed the torture had not long begun. The flat iron floor of the cage had grown hot and the prisoner, who was naked, was clinging to iron rungs which the heat had not yet penetrated, forcing himself towards the roof of the cage. Feikermun and his four companions had been idly speculating upon the man’s plight when I was marched in between a pair of guards. I waited before them, my nerves frayed, trying to disregard the trio of dead faces before me and the desperate pleas and whimpers that came from the man in the cage. I was unsure of my status now. Had I been arrested? Was I a guest still, or a prisoner?

  ‘Silence!’ roared Feikermun as the man’s shrieks cut through my words.

  ‘My lord, I beg you! Please, have mercy! Please!’

  I could not help glancing his way. He had forced his limbs out between the bars of the cage, but no matter what position he adopted he could not avoid the growing heat of the metal. He writhed, burned red in several places, crying out in agonies I could not guess at.

  ‘Why did you approach him?’ Feikermun demanded of me.

  ‘For that very reason, my lord. I believed him dead - at your hands, in fact. The sight of someone who so resembled him startled me.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I have no explanation. I approached him... Before I could speak he vanished. Your own soldiers can attest to that fact, for they were witness to it.’

  ‘And who did you think him to be, Cormer of Chol?’

  ‘I was struck by his resemblance to a man with whom I met but once, some weeks ago, a merchant from Hon-Hiaita in Khimmur, named Dinbig.’

  Feikermun froze for a moment, staring at me, his fists bunching on the table. The great muscles of his arms swelled with tension. Wirm leaned across and spoke conspiratorially into his ear. Feikermun’s eyes went to the two guards. ‘Is it true that you witnessed this event?’

  ‘Yes, Your Excellency,’ one replied.

  ‘You saw the man?’

  ‘Briefly, Excellency. He was familiar, though neither of us could place him then. Now that a name has been mentioned I would say aye, that is who I was reminded of strongly: the Khimmurian you had executed in this very hall some weeks ago.’

  I repressed a shudder, my mind on the iron cage. Beside me the second guard gave a nod of affirmation. Feikermun’s bloodshot eyes returned to me. ‘Wirm says you made enquiries about this Khimmurian dog in Guling Mire.’

  ‘Not enquiries, my Lord. I had earlier purchased an article from him which I learned he had bought from Master Wirm. I simply asked Master Wirm about the possibility of acquiring more, similar articles.’

  Feikermun tilted his head towards Wi
rm, who again spoke quietly in his ear. Wirm’s cold, hard eyes stared shiftingly at me, moving from shoulder to belly to head, never settling on my face. He would say anything he could to damn me further, and I cursed again the shortsightedness that had led me to incur his hostility.

  ‘Your interest was profound, considering that you claim to have met the unprincipled hound only the once.’

  ‘As I said, your Excellency, I was surprised at seeing a man I believed to be dead.’

  ‘The dog is dead!’ Feikermun roared. ‘It could not have been him!’

  ‘No, my lord, I accept that it could not. I was in error, there can be no doubt. Though, as confirmed by your men here, I was not alone in the error. And the inexplicable fact remains that the man I tried to accost simply vanished before my eyes and the eyes of those watching.’