Magefall

by Stephen Aryan

  Neither of those awaiting promotion had ever visited the cells or been in any serious trouble, and yet they were followers of Akosh. Their loyalty was to her above all others. Beyond their Queen and beyond the law.

  So far neither had done anything untoward, but with so many people focused on Akosh and her network, Tammy wondered how long it would be before that changed. Guardian Brook had never shown any signs of disloyalty right up to the moment when she’d killed a witness and tried to blame his murder on Munroe. Rather than be questioned, she’d taken her own life and her last words had been about her Mother.

  Any visitor’s faith had never been an issue before. Yerskania was renowned for being an open nation that welcomed people from all around the world. As long as they didn’t try to hurt anyone their religion was a private issue. Perizzi had churches and temples devoted to mainstream faiths like the Maker and the Blessed Mother, but also the uncommon in the west, such as Elwei. Tammy didn’t believe in any of them and didn’t care about what others believed. But being a follower of Akosh was now a matter of public concern and safety.

  If they chose to be obstructive in their new roles, then individually Tovin and Rohane could disrupt trade in the city. Working together they could control what goods flowed into the port and a lot of money would flow their way to clear any obstacles. No one wanted their goods to rot because they were being held in a warehouse or in the hold of a ship, tying up the docks and the merchant captains.

  The other names in the city were not all in such significant positions, but each of them was poised to inherit a more senior job. Two of Akosh’s acolytes from the list had already been promoted and had been in control for some time.

  If they, and everyone else on the list, were to work together it would change the heart of the city. It would change how Yerskania dealt with other countries in the west and beyond.

  “This list of names. How certain are you that they’re all genuine?” asked Morganse, without turning around.

  “I’m certain,” said Tammy. Griss had been recommended by the Old Man himself and she trusted him completely.

  “I will have some of my agents look into them and keep a close eye on their activity,” said Morganse. Tammy didn’t know how many agents the Queen had in the city, but the Old Man had indicated that the number had increased since the war. All of the west had been unprepared for the Warlock and no one wanted that to happen again. “I need more information before making a decision. I need time.”

  In the blink of an eye Morganse seemed to age beyond her years. With a slight stumble she sat down heavily in her chair. Sometimes Tammy forgot that Morganse was a grandmother who had been on the throne for a long time. Most of the time the Queen was as vivacious as a woman twenty years her junior, but not today.

  Time. They both knew they didn’t have enough of it. At any moment Akosh could give her people in Perizzi an order and they would leap to it, no matter the cost. They would willingly sacrifice their own lives to serve their god. Tammy knew the Queen and other monarchs employed agents who lived abroad, blending in with their communities, but this was something far beyond that. Sleeper agents that might be called on to serve, or perhaps not. They might live their entire lives without receiving a direct order from Akosh.

  It also made her wonder if any of them had ever refused. Had anyone ever rejected an order from their Holy Mother? If so she doubted the others had left them alive. It was an interesting theory to investigate but very soon the Queen would have to make a decision about what to do with those names on the list.

  “I’ll send for you. Soon,” promised Morganse as if she’d read Tammy’s mind.

  They would have to move quickly and whatever she decided Tammy knew the repercussions would be severe.

  It was a little after midnight and with another busy day ahead Morganse should have been in bed. Instead she found herself thinking about her daughters and their family. About what she was willing to do to protect them.

  When the Mad King had threatened her during the war she’d been certain he would come after her directly, but instead her son had suffered. All his life she’d been preparing him to inherit the throne, but because of her inaction he’d been castrated and had left Yerskania, never to return. That had put her in the unenviable position of remaining on the throne when she should have stepped down several years ago.

  Back then it had been an insane monarch who had convinced himself he was a prophet mentioned in holy texts. He had planned to convert all of the western nations into one country, with him on the throne as both its god and king. Today it was a widespread cult devoted to a woman they believed was a god and for whom they would do anything. Break any vow, any law, any sacred oath.

  The door to her private sitting room opened and a lean, middle-aged man with grey hair slipped into the room unannounced. Without making a sound he padded across the room and waited for her gesture before sitting down. Impeccably dressed as ever in black and grey, Ben cut a striking figure despite his years. Other than his name, which was fake, she knew very little about him. It had only been about twenty years, so perhaps he was getting close to trusting her.

  Ben was a member of the Silent Order, a league of assassins who had been operating in Yerskania for a long time. With a code of their own that no one really understood a person could attempt to hire them. Sometimes they accepted the contract and at other times they would reject it without ever giving a reason. They could not be blackmailed, persuaded or threatened. They were anonymous and a force of nature.

  The Silent Order had been instrumental in changing the course of several countries, but what only a handful of people knew was that they had a connection to the throne.

  As well as being a retired assassin, Ben was a member of the inner circle, and his voice carried considerable weight.

  “I believe all of the individuals on the list are being followed by your agents,” he said, and she inclined her head. “Then, may I ask, why are my people also watching them?”

  “Because I may need you to take decisive action. Because watching may not be enough.”

  “You have suspicions?” said Ben, raising an eyebrow. “Which of them do you believe to be disloyal?”

  Morganse declined to answer. So far none of them had acted in a way that could be considered even slightly disloyal. All of them were dedicated to their respective roles, as well as active and well-liked members of their communities. Most of them had families and, apart from their unusual religious belief, they were no different from anyone else. She had no reason to doubt them. Not yet anyway.

  Yerskania was an open country and Morganse took great pride that her capital city welcomed people from every corner of the world. It was a glorious melting pot with food, faces and languages from all nations. It was a home away from home for everyone who came here as they could always find something familiar.

  She’d never thought of that as a weakness. Until now.

  “Keep a close eye on them,” was all she said. Ben bowed and left quietly without another word.

  At this hour the hearth was nothing but cold ashes. Feeling a sudden chill, Morganse pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she struggled with her decision and the repercussions that she knew would follow.

  CHAPTER 30

  Munroe had to work hard to keep an interested expression on her face as she was shown around the ground floor of the orphanage. After only a short time the muscles in her face ached from suppressing a yawn as her guide, Sianne, showed her the wonders of the washroom. The woman seemed to take great pleasure in explaining how the children’s sheets were washed and then fed through the mangle. The last part of the riveting process was hanging them out to dry in the gardens at the rear of the house.

  It was a relief finally to leave the dingy room and set foot outside, even if she did have to help with the laundry. As they hung and pegged the sheets on the line, Munroe stared in surprise at the vast overgrown gardens. Once, they must have been impressive, with a hedge maze at
the heart and four quadrants of flowerbeds on all sides. Now the maze was a monstrous overgrown tangle of green. The flowerbeds had been reduced to broken soil or were awash with waist-high weeds.

  “Impressive, isn’t it,” said Sianne. “I’m told the owner used to host parties here every year on the summer solstice. Two or three hundred people would gather for a day of feasting and music.”

  “It must have been something,” mused Munroe. “I’d be happy to work on the garden. It would be so nice to give the children somewhere safe to play outside,” she said, forcing a smile until it hurt.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll suggest it to Gorell.”

  “Wonderful,” echoed Munroe, thinking it would be far easier to work alone outside than directly with children. Being near them was difficult. They bore no resemblance to Samuel, but they were a constant reminder of what she had lost. One of her hands shook and she took a few deep breaths until she felt calm again. She reminded herself that all of this was a means to an end. That thought alone allowed her to stay in control.

  “Are you ready for the exciting part?” asked Sianne, when they had finished hanging the sheets.

  Munroe dreaded to think what that might be but forced another smile. “Oh yes.”

  “Wonderful, let’s go and meet the new arrivals.”

  Much like the garden, the house itself was an impressive ruin that had seen better days. Once it had been a palatial home that now showed considerable signs of rot. Holes in the walls had been patched with straw, clay and bricks. The roof repairs also included a multitude of materials and daylight showed through in a few places. Sianne had told her it only leaked in a few spots, which was a vast improvement on how it had been when they first arrived. Each room in the house had been recently painted with whatever was going cheap, creating a rainbow effect as she walked through the building. The cobwebs and dust had been swept away but that didn’t stop the house from feeling abandoned. It also smelled a little of mildew but Sianne had reassured her that it would fade in the coming weeks. Munroe hoped she wouldn’t be here long enough to find out if that was true.

  “We’ve only been in the building a few weeks,” said Sianne, reading something in Munroe’s expression. “We’ll make it into a home.”

  She was saved from having to force another smile as a gaggle of children came hurtling down the huge winding staircase. One of the screeching brood, a young girl with red hair, was riding down the wooden handrail, while the others cheered and followed in her wake. Munroe was expecting tears and a painful end to the ride, but someone had assembled a collection of cushions at the bottom of the stairs. The girl flew off the end of the rail, grinning ear to ear as she hit her soft landing. With a dramatic wave of her hand she took a bow but her audience’s applause began to fade as they spotted the adults.

  “Children,” said Sianne. Their mirth drained away and was replaced with guilty expressions and a sudden lack of eye contact. “What has Gorell said about sliding down the bannister?” The children offered half-hearted apologies and immediately started collecting up the cushions. A few of the children looked at Munroe curiously but she did her best to ignore them. She didn’t want to know their names or anything about them. Sianne was talking, filling her in on some of the details about the children’s difficult lives so far. Munroe listened just enough to nod in the right places, but she didn’t absorb any of the details.

  “The new arrivals are in here,” said Sianne, leading her down a corridor.

  In a room that had been set up as a classroom, half a dozen slightly older orphans were sitting at battered desks. Half of them were locals, with dark eyes and pale skin, but two were from Yerskania and one was a tall Seve boy about ten years old. A severe Zecorran man with grey hair and crooked teeth was going over some items on a chalkboard at the front. A quick glance revealed a list of basic rules about being at the orphanage.

  Sianne knocked on the doorframe, as there wasn’t a door, interrupting the induction. “Sorry to interrupt, Gorell.”

  “That’s quite all right,” he said. “We were just about finished. Is this the new member of staff?”

  “This is Munroe,” said Sianne, holding her by the shoulders and marching her forward as if she was a prize cow. Determined to make a good first impression with the man in charge, Munroe smiled and shook hands. She answered all his questions with a story that closely resembled the truth and even went so far as to laugh at a mildly amusing joke. It was difficult to swallow her natural sarcasm and pay attention, but she managed it as he seemed satisfied.

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll become better acquainted over the next few months,” he said.

  “I’m sure,” she agreed. With luck her stay would be short, but she was willing to do whatever was necessary.

  “Munroe had a wonderful idea about the garden as well,” said Sianne.

  “Ah, the old maze. Do you think you can tame it?”

  “I’d certainly like to try,” she said.

  There was a frantic knocking on the doorframe and then another flustered member of staff arrived. “Tommi has had an accident.” It was clear the woman was panicking but was trying her best not to scare the children. Seeing it as an opportunity Munroe spoke up before anyone else had a chance.

  “I’ll stay here and supervise the children until you return,” she said. The members of staff hurried away, leaving her alone with the six children. Munroe lingered by the door, waiting for news while the children amused themselves with a deck of cards.

  After a while she heard one of the children approach. The skinny Yerskani girl leaned against the doorway, facing into the room. She seemed to be watching the game and didn’t make eye contact. Munroe pretended she hadn’t noticed she was there.

  “Do you have any idea how boring this is?” asked Dox, through gritted teeth.

  “You’re an orphan, aren’t you?” asked Munroe, barely waiting for the girl to nod. “Then you should feel right at home. Or would you rather be back in Rojenne, working for Cannok.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I know. I killed him,” said Munroe, making the girl squeak. She took a moment to regain her composure, looking back into the room to see if anyone had noticed. The card game continued without interruption and Munroe tried a different approach.

  “Were you happy working for him?” she asked. Munroe had learned from Tok that Dox used to sit through all of Cannok’s meetings in Rojenne, just to make sure his people weren’t lying to him. “Wasn’t that boring?”

  “Most of the time,” Dox reluctantly conceded.

  “Has anyone said anything yet about the faith here?”

  “Just a few vague hints. I think they want to ease us into it. Get used to having regular meals and a bed, then tell us.”

  “Did you ask them about it?” asked Munroe.

  “Yes,” said Dox, giving her that withering look that teenage girls seemed to master effortlessly. Munroe remembered giving her mother the same kind of glare more than once.

  “And?”

  “I asked if they were Eaters, or part of some sex cult.” Dox snorted and swallowed a laugh. “The panic on Sianne’s face was hilarious. She started babbling about her faith. She promised they weren’t Eaters, or into anything weird, and they’re going to tell us all about it soon.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No, she started droning on about compassion and helping others. Something like that. She sounded like a priest.”

  “Did they name her?” pressed Munroe, grabbing Dox’s arm and squeezing hard. The girl’s face crumpled up in pain but then her eyes widened in fear as she saw Munroe’s expression.

  “Yes. It was Akosh. She called her Akosh.”

  Munroe released Dox and kept watch for other members of staff in the corridor.

  “Most of the other children have no idea,” said Dox, rubbing at the red marks on her arm. “All they know is the woman in charge of the orphanage has a lot of money. A few are still suspicious. They’ve seen things like
this before, where orphans are loaned out to rich clients.”

  “There’s none of that here,” said Munroe. She didn’t need to add any more details to reassure her. Dox would know she was telling the truth.

  Munroe had told Dox only a little about why they had come north to Herakion, but almost nothing about Akosh and her followers. She didn’t need to know and it was probably safer as well. That way her surprise would be genuine when they finally introduced her, and the other new orphans, to the faith and what it involved. Munroe had no way of knowing which members of staff were loyal to Akosh and which simply worked here. It was safer to assume all of them and trust no one besides the girl.

  “Keep your head down and your ears open,” said Munroe.

  “How did you kill him?” asked Dox.

  Despite everything, Munroe smiled to herself. She shouldn’t have been surprised. When she’d been the same age as Dox she’d asked adults inappropriate questions.

  “You know how,” said Munroe, waggling the fingers on her right hand.

  “Can you teach me?”

  Since Dox had spoken so plainly Munroe thought brutal honesty was the best response. “If you want to kill someone, use a dagger. They’re easy to find and you already know how it works. Just stab someone with the pointy end.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me killing is wrong?” asked Dox.

  “I know you think I’m ancient, but I was once your age. So I know you’ll do whatever you want, no matter what I say. If you want to kill someone, then go ahead. Besides, I’m not your mother.” Munroe knew her voice was harsh but she couldn’t help it. The pain and anger were constantly seeping out of her no matter how much she pushed them down. “But if you’re serious about learning how to control your magic, then, yes, I’ll teach you about that.”

  Dox was silent for a while as she mulled it over. “Where do I start?” she asked.