Book of Transformations

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘I have heard much about you, Vuldon, and admittedly your case is not the same as these two,’ Urtica muttered. ‘I understand your bitterness. You have other motivations – as do you, Tane. I knew your family well.’

  The skinny man sat up and leaned forwards, taking time to compose himself. ‘What exactly are you insinuating?’

  ‘I will forgive you your rudeness this once,’ Urtica replied calmly. ‘Investigator, please continue the briefing.’ Urtica motioned for the rumel to speak.

  ‘Thank you, my Emperor,’ Fulcrom replied, with a small bow of the head. He turned his attention to the others. ‘Tane, you have an unrelenting – if a little unfocused – will to do good. You have a moral code, and this is good. You’re also not wanted in the Inquisition, and so your name has been put forward especially for this mission. You should just shut up for once and pay attention – you’ll do well out of this . . . if you’re pliable.’

  Tane sat back, disgruntled, possibly weighing up whether or not to make a witticism.

  ‘Vuldon – you used to be a legendary hero of this city. Unlike the others, no one has forced you to be here. Emperor Johynn and his lineage are long gone, so you can put your faith in Urtica, and in what is being offered to you. It’s a chance to regain what you once had. We can make that happen.’

  Vuldon’s expression seemed to be hiding years of pain.

  ‘And you, Lan,’ Fulcrom turned to her, ‘are a fraction more than a coincidence. You have proven remarkably adaptable to cultist technology, according to our notes, and we have had some minor failures with adaptation in earlier experiments. You are resilient and your past career in the circus has given you a useful athleticism, so you seem rather perfect for the forthcoming role. I’m aware of what’s gone on and it seems there is a gap in our legal framework when it comes to understanding your transformation. We’re therefore going to gloss over such changes in order for one further transformation.’

  She was totally disarmed by his directness, and also by the way he did not abuse the power of secret knowledge: he was privy to her history, and yet he spoke to her without disrespect.

  ‘And what is our role supposed to be?’ Lan enquired.

  ‘You are,’ Urtica interrupted, ‘to become the Villjamur Knights, protectors of the city. It is a prestigious role.’

  So why treat me like shit . . . ?

  ‘You are’, he continued, ‘to see that the citizens of this ancient city are well protected, but your precise roles in all of this will shortly become a reality. Now that your introductions are over, you should familiarize yourself with each other. You three, and Fulcrom here, are going to be spending a lot of time together.’

  ‘And, pardon me for asking, but why should we do any of this?’ Lan asked, feeling no fear of the Emperor, not after all she’d been through. ‘It’s clear that you need us – or rather, we mean something to you.’

  All eyes turned to Urtica as if expecting his rage to be on display. Instead he leant forward onto the table. ‘Would you wish to be placed in stocks, and for a crier to announce to the city who you used to be?’ The Emperor moved behind her now, and whispered into her left ear, ‘Indeed, the cultists did a very good job on you, but it doesn’t take much for a crowd in this city to become fearful – hysterical enough to pull you apart with their bare hands. Of course, I would not like to see such an act.’

  As Lan let the paranoia sink in, Urtica stood to regard the room. ‘Are there any more questions?’

  ‘It’s Shalev that’s causing you much trouble, isn’t it?’ Vuldon said, but the Emperor remained silent.

  ‘I thought you didn’t pay attention to things these days?’ Fulcrom replied.

  Vuldon looked away, while Tane cleared his throat and announced, ‘I would just like to add that I’m definitely in. I think it’s an absolutely super idea.’

  ‘Stop sucking up to him, kid, you don’t know what it involves,’ Vuldon grunted, glancing up for the first time. ‘What’re our obligations in all of this? If we agree, what the fuck will you have us doing? Bet we ain’t going to be standing on display.’

  ‘I’ll leave the particulars for Fulcrom to explain, but we will begin with your transformations this very evening. After that, you will develop into a force used to tackle the great unrest that has been plaguing our city. There will be further training, accommodation and support. As you made perfectly clear, Vuldon, you in particular have no reason to do what I say. Fulcrom will explain the details of what our offer will involve, but now I’ve Council business to attend to. It has been a pleasure to meet you all, and I hope to see each of you turn in for duty.’

  Urtica spun on his heels and, with a nod to Fulcrom, marched from the room. A small body of guards emerged like ghosts from the darkness to escort him out.

  In this ensuing silence, Lan, Tane and Vuldon all observed each other with uncertainty.

  Fulcrom leaned forward into the light. ‘Well, I suppose you’re wondering what happens next?’

  NINE

  Fulcrom was making it up as he went along. The Emperor seemed concerned only with results, the cultists with science, and he alone was charged with organizing three individuals into a crime-fighting unit worthy enough to use the city’s name. What’s more, due to the nature of his duties he was relieved of some of his general work with the Inquisition and now had been given the broad but spurious command of ‘Special Investigations’, whatever that meant. Still, this was a challenge. Something new. Something to get his teeth into.

  Fulcrom guided them down to cells deep beneath Balmacara, where the cultists had rigged up a palace of technological trinkets. As the group descended a spiral staircase into the cultists’ workspace, they watched agape at what was presented. Under arched brickwork stood huge conical devices that hummed with energy. Purple light sparked across the surface of orbs the size of small houses. Shelves were buckling under the weight of coloured jars and blades of all shapes and sizes. The air itself seemed like a living thing – there was an atmosphere of intense anticipation. People expected things, events and history to be generated within these walls.

  Nearly a dozen cultists, in their esoteric black outfits, worked diligently by lantern light at tables overflowing with wires and vials and mould-ravaged books. Those who approached treated Lan, Tane and Vuldon with an eerie level of respect, as if they’d already been invested with their supposed powers. A few councillors had drifted down in order to witness their pre-transformation state. Hands were shaken, pleasantries exchanged, and Fulcrom was treated like royalty. But he knew these politicians feared anything the cultists would generate, and their presence was merely a meek declaration of political backing.

  Tane was by far the keenest of the group. With much to lose, and few career options, he seemed to make the mental switch to his new life remarkably quickly, and had nothing but bright eyes and quick jokes for the cultists and officials. His reluctance to take anything seriously is probably why he made an awful investigator’s aide. Vuldon was about as happy as a storm cloud. Fulcrom had made it clear to the man that he could opt out at any point, but Vuldon continued to grumble, ‘There’s nothing else left for me, that’s why I’m here. If you can call it a choice, so be it, but this is the least shit option in life right now.’ So Fulcrom steered him away from those with hope-filled eyes, or who expected something more pithy and profound from him.

  Lan was an enigmatic woman. Fulcrom watched her the most, since he wasn’t convinced of her engagement with the project. If she didn’t commit fully, she wouldn’t be much use. She was here under pressure, because of her secret – and what a secret it was. Marvelling at the talents of cultists, he found it hard to believe she had ever been a man, but forced himself to purge any prejudices from his mind.

  Each of the three were taken to a room little bigger than a gaol cell, but within was a comfortable bed, surgical instruments, a changing screen, and lanterns that hung from the curved ceiling. Now they awaited the event that would change their lives.
<
br />   *

  Vuldon was first. His was the simplest procedure of the three, low-risk, merely a modification of the processes used to enhance the legendary Night Guard soldiers. His development was going to be a vastly enhanced musculature, fibres rebuilt, signs of ageing peeled away, giving him unmatched strength. A reconstruction of his sense of dignity, of the quality that made him the legend of the past – and what a legend it had been.

  The files the Inquisition had kept on Vuldon had been studied by Fulcrom. It was estimated that, in his few years duration as the city’s hero, he had saved three hundred and twenty-three citizens from death or violence; foiled seven attacks by vicious tribes to scale the city walls; saved the then-Emperor twice; prevented a fire from ravaging Balmacara; and saved a small school from a mad-axe murderer. His value was impossible to deny.

  Fulcrom asked this figure of dormant pugnacity many gentle, searching questions, seeking to bypass his reluctance to talk. Eventually, hunched on the bed in his rather effeminate white gown, his already powerful shoulders providing an intimidating bulk, Vuldon began to open up. For the first time he gave more than a handful of bitter grunts.

  He spoke of the old days. He spoke about the Inquisition in particular. ‘Shouldn’t like a man who wears those colours.’

  ‘Few citizens do,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘I know about your past—’

  ‘What you know,’ Vuldon interrupted, ‘is probably the wrong side of the story. Some cleverly spun tale written down in spurious histories. A few edited documents.’

  ‘They were different times, back then,’ Fulcrom pleaded. ‘A different emperor, a different regime.’

  ‘You think this one’s any different? They’ve only ever got their own interests at heart.’

  Vuldon went on to talk about his wife, a glamour girl who ended her life after things went badly for them. ‘She drank herself into her coffin after choking on her own vomit,’ Vuldon said. ‘You know what that’s like, investigator? To find the woman you love not able to cope with the fuck-ups you’ve made – or rather, the fuck-ups blamed on you?’

  ‘I . . . honestly, Vuldon. I’d love to give you some nice line here, but I can’t; but if it helps, I understand – I lost a partner, too.’

  ‘You responsible for her death, rumel?’

  Fulcrom shook his head. ‘What I will say is that it sounds like you hold yourself responsible, which I don’t think is fair on yourself. Time can do strange things to one’s memories . . .’

  Vuldon gave him a brooding glance, and Fulcrom respectfully lowered his eyes. Somewhere, under that hunched and rather wrecked mass, was a skilled and determined human, and Fulcrom would damn well coax it out of him.

  ‘So this new transformation,’ Fulcrom said, ‘do you think you’re ready to go ahead and be part of the Knights? We so desperately need your experience, Vuldon. You were the first of your kind, and you know how these things work. Here’s a chance to reclaim your former glories, to make it clear to people that the past was wrong, that the city can trust you again.’

  ‘There’s not a lot I can’t handle after what I’ve been through,’ Vuldon muttered, lifting his legs up onto the bed, lying down with a deep groan. The hanging lantern made a lot more of the angles of his face, and he appeared truly brutal even in this relaxed pose. ‘I’ll do what it takes. I’ve nothing else, though if we’re going to undergo such transformations, I’d prefer, where possible, to be renewed – lose the name. The Legend is exactly that, a legend, a myth. Let’s keep him that way.’

  *

  Fulcrom left the room, passing a stream of cultists and surgeons carrying vials and cases, in order to visit the next of the Knights.

  He found Tane in repose on his bed, one arm propping up his head, a half-eaten platter of food by his chest, like some artist’s vision of an emperor. ‘Fulcrom, old boy, the food here’s quite superb. I’ve just eaten a boatload of fruit which I’ve never even heard of before, let alone seen.’

  Fulcrom had to laugh. ‘I hope you’re going to take this job seriously.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Tane continued his way through the platter with a wide smile at Fulcrom. He offered some to Fulcrom.

  ‘You don’t seem to be taking it seriously,’ Fulcrom observed, politely waving away the offer.

  ‘I’ve spent all my life trying to pass those exams for the Inquisition and I’ve got nowhere. Now I have been offered a rather lovely route right to the top, avoiding all that street duty nonsense and all those horrid legal texts. Do you honestly think I’ve no reason to be anything but delighted? I’ve always wanted to help people, and I can make a real difference being one of the Knights.’

  ‘OK, but don’t think you’re going to have it all easy. You’re going to be transformed, Tane – altered. Changed. You’ll undergo ailuranthosurgery. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘I was informed that it was something to do with feline-like abilities . . .’

  ‘Werecat, Tane. You’ll be merging into a semi-form of a wild animal.’

  ‘Tigers, someone said, yes, yes, yes. They don’t sound all that wild, if you ask me. Rather regal from the stories I’ve heard. Which of course suits me down to the ground.’

  Fulcrom felt his frustrations flaring. How could the man be so casual about this? ‘But the point remains, Tane, that you’re going to be forever different. It will bring with it a whole load of new psychologies.’

  ‘One must allow for risks in life, Fulcrom, in order to progress. Obviously I’m a little nervous—’

  A male scream echoed outside along with the sound of roaring static.

  Fulcrom tilted his head. ‘That’s coming your way, I hope you know.’

  Tane gaped at him. ‘Is it . . . going to hurt?’

  ‘Of course it is, you idiot. You’re probably going to ache for days afterwards, and you’re . . .’ Fulcrom allowed his emotions to simmer. ‘Look, just don’t make any jokes, don’t try to sweet-talk any female cultists, and for Bohr’s sake do what they tell you to do. It’s for your own good.’

  *

  Lan was the last of the Knights Fulcrom visited. Her transformation was the most complicated of all, and he prayed to . . . Well, the god Bohr seems pretty out of touch with all of these procedures, doesn’t he? Fulcrom hoped to whatever powers were involved in all of this that her body could withstand these further changes.

  When he reached her, Lan was perched on the edge of her bed, staring deep into a fire burning in the grate, her arms rigid by her side.

  ‘I’m sorry for putting you through such things again,’ Fulcrom began.

  Lan simply shrugged.

  ‘So you’re the only one in the group who doesn’t really want to be here?’

  Lan glanced up at him, and he could see then that she was a slender lady, with such tight musculature. There was something vaguely familiar about her appearance – she looked very much like someone he once knew . . .

  No. Don’t think of her now. Lan’s hair was long and dark, her fringe bold, and he noticed her nails were well bitten. Her brown eyes displayed a distance that he wondered if she’d put there herself, to cope.

  ‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it,’ she replied. ‘The only thing that repulses me is that there is knowledge being used against me – the fact that knowledge is being used to keep me here. The rest, I’m OK with – I maintain that there were nicer ways of asking though.’

  ‘We’ve got knowledge on the others too, though it doesn’t make it any better, I know. It’s just a security bond, something to guarantee you’ll not abuse your powers – and I want to stress that they aren’t my orders, this isn’t my style, but I understand that there is a requirement that you yield to the Emperor’s will.’

  There was a world of thought in her expression, and Fulcrom could tell his words were being analyzed. He liked that.

  ‘I did have some money,’ Lan said, ‘but I knew I’d have to get employment eventually, which I knew was going to be limiting, being a woman.’

  She
stared hard at him then, as if testing him for a response.

  ‘And this . . .’ Lan sat up to gesture around the room with one hand. ‘This doesn’t seem so bad. It’s all a little too high profile for my liking, but still. You know, really, they could have just asked me nicely, rather than assaulting me.’

  ‘They need to use fear to get what they want. If it’s any help, I’ve learned from working in the Inquisition that more often than not, you just need to treat people with respect, no matter who they are, and they’re more likely to respond positively that way. That’s how I would’ve done it.’

  ‘I like you, Investigator Fulcrom,’ Lan said boldly. ‘You’re probably the first person I’ve met on Jokull who’s treated me as an equal.’

  That was a relief.

  ‘Though,’ she went on, ‘I believe it’s freakish that anyone in your position can keep your shoes so remarkably clean.’

  He glanced down to his immaculate boots, then ignored her comment. ‘Lan, in a few minutes those cultists will treat you . . . just like they’re doing with Tane and Vuldon. I’m sorry, but it won’t exactly be comfortable.’

  ‘Cultists,’ Lan repeated, ‘I’ve noticed that they have a tendency to look at everyone like they’re an experiment, which, I guess, is a form of equality.’

  ‘It’s a good opportunity, these new transformations,’ Fulcrom pressed. ‘Especially yours.’

  ‘Gravitational forces,’ she breathed. ‘That’s what they said, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. You’ll more or less receive metallic plates and a whole bunch of stuff I don’t quite understand, and they’ll enhance your mobility and you’ll be able to alter your interactions with gravity. Which will be interesting to see, given your already useful skills from the circus.’ Pausing on that word, he realized he wanted to know a good deal more about her former life. She seemed so gentle; it disturbed him knowing the pain she would go through. ‘So can we trust you to work for us, Lan? I need to know you want to do this, rather than just being forced to do so.’