by Tom Lloyd
‘I don’t know, but having chased the demon myself I have not fallen ill.’
‘Tell me what you do know.’
Rhe nodded. ‘We have eight houses in this street with people I cannot rouse. They have some fever that came on swiftly this morning from what I can tell. I have Investigators checking all surrounding streets and several have already reported similar incidents. The demon I pursued managed to escape me. It can move very quickly and must have found a hiding place, given we are nowhere near the Crescent or anything larger than a stream.’
‘This fever, do you have any ideas ?’
‘I am no doctor,’ Rhe said, ‘and my first reaction would have been to send for one from a goshe free hospital, but for … recent events.’
Sheven scowled and unconsciously shifted the scimitar at his side. ‘Do you have evidence they are connected ?’
‘None.’
‘And yet you’re suspicious.’
‘Naturally,’ Rhe said. He turned towards the nearest house and Sheven fell in beside him, motioning for his attendants to remain where they were. At the gate Rhe glanced at his companion. ‘Doctors and fevers, demons and goshe, this can be no coincidence.’
‘The demon you saw, what form did it take ?’
‘Man-shaped and long-limbed – a dark hide tough enough to withstand a bullet to the chest.’
‘So nothing like the assassins Investigator Narin and his friends fought off ?’
‘They were human, nothing more. This … this could never pass as one.’
‘Does it match the allegations you mentioned ?’
Rhe was quiet a moment. ‘There was no description there,’ he said at last, knowing the Law Master had intentionally not asked for details earlier. ‘But no, this was far from what I had been led to expect.’
‘There were no other reports of demons,’ Sheven said, ‘but we’ve had a dozen instances of fever breaking out. People are already starting to panic. I have had to post guards at the free hospital in Raven District and no doubt the other one in Arbold will soon have more patients than it can cope with.’
Rhe looked around the street, where Investigators and civilians alike watched them with worried faces. The sun bathed the street in warm light and gulls called overhead, while swifts cut through the cloud-specked sky. The city seemed peaceful then, the day promising summer rather than disease and demons. He shook his head, suddenly worried how it would look at nightfall. If they had a dozen reports by midday, how many more would follow ? And once darkness fell, how many more demons would he be chasing ?
‘Has there been word of Narin ?’ he asked, trying to ignore the question for the time being.
‘None. I’m told they never reached Wyvern’s corner of Dragon District, they diverted to escape their pursuers and disappeared into Coldcliffs. Reports of what followed are confused, but at least three locals are dead and we have the burned remains of five people we assume were goshe elsewhere in the city.’
‘Burned ?’
Sheven grunted. ‘Not the first of those we’ve had recently, eh ? But a worrying increase as much as anything else.’
‘We must hope Narin knows what he’s doing,’ Rhe said finally. ‘If there are informants within the Lawbringers, we can do him little good for the time being.’
‘And your investigation ?’
‘Cannot continue today. At least a dozen instances of fever ? This disease must have taken a hundred people on the first morning ; by this evening there will be chaos on the streets.’
‘I will have every Lawbringer assembled and sent out to keep order. The searches of each Shure will have to wait, you’re right. But if we have demons haunting the streets we will need help.’
Rhe’s lips tightened as he realised what the Law Master meant. ‘You would go begging to House Dragon for assistance ?’ the nobleman from Dragon’s ancient enemy asked.
‘What choice would we have ?’
‘Having Dragon soldiers enforcing the law, searching the streets of every district, would not prevent chaos – it could spark war overnight.’
‘They would not permit any other House to do so – they’re the power here. What else would you have us do ? Ask your kin instead ?’ Sheven said coldly.
‘Either the Lawbringers rule the Imperial streets, or we are an irrelevance.’
‘And when our lack of powder-weapons leads to these demons cutting through our ranks ?’
‘The law requires us to sacrifice,’ Rhe replied, prompting an astonished look from his superior that only lessened when Rhe clarified his words. ‘Those of us with noble blood will be at the forefront of the hunt. We were born to sacrifice ourselves first in the name of a higher cause.’
There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Sheven made to head back the way he’d come, but he paused first. ‘Any of your caste good at curing fevers ?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Then go and make plans for this evening. I’ll try to get control of whatever’s happening here. And may the Gods be looking down on us all – this is only the start.’
His mind was in darkness, threads caught on a swirling breeze. From somewhere he heard her voice, heard Kine calling his name.
‘Narin – come meet your son.’
He felt tears on his cheek, felt himself blind and helpless. No matter how much she asked him to, he could never see the child. His eyes were gone, plucked out and lost in the cold churning ocean. His tongue was heavy as he tried to speak, tried to explain, and Kine did not understand.
He heard her scream at him, heard her beg to understand. He tried to explain, about the goshe he’d found, about the little girl who’d been murdered, but still the guilt burned at his skin. It traced hot white lines over his body and blackened his flesh.
He begged for her forgiveness, but the guilt just burned hotter still. Soon he was drowning in her tears.
Father Jehq tilted the Investigator’s head up and pushed up one eyelid. The prisoner saw nothing ; his pupil was almost as large as his whole eye, but glassy and unfocused. Sweat dripped from the man’s hair and cheeks, running down from the steel band clamped around his temple like a crown. The band had a network of thin metal threads across the top and engraved symbols around its edge – each one gilt-plated and faintly glittering in the weak light.
After a moment, Jehq released Narin’s head again and stepped back. He pulled off the steel band and placed it on a side table, taking great care of the delicate steel threads. He wiped the greasy sweat from his fingers and turned to the man beside him.
‘You gave him too much,’ he said eventually. ‘Put too much in the band. He was too weak to take it.’
‘He’s going to die ?’ Uttir, Synter’s second, asked. The Detenii from House Iron kept the anxiety from his voice, but Jehq could see it all the same. He was afraid of screwing up so soon after being given his position.
Jehq shook his head just as the prisoner cried out again, mangled words spilling from the man’s lips.
‘Kine, I’m sorry. My oaths … I can’t see him.’
Jehq gestured to the man as though making a point. ‘He won’t die, but he’s no use to us like this.’
‘Isn’t it supposed to make him answer our questions ?’
‘Oh, he’ll tell the truth all right,’ Jehq said scornfully, ‘but first you have to get him to listen to your damn questions ! He’s babbling ; raving like a madman, but I’ve no doubt it’s all true. Unfortunately for you, he was too weak when you gave him the dose, and then enhanced its effect with the band. You’ve scrambled his brains – he’s no use to anyone like this. The man’s so fixated on this Kine woman he can think of nothing else.’ The aging doctor shook his head.
‘What can I do ?’
‘Nothing. It’ll take a few hours for it to wear off. Then he’ll be coherent again.’
‘And then ?’
‘And then he’ll be useless for tracking Irato down. He’ll tell us everything he knows, I’m sure of Synter’s skill in that
department, so you better hope it turns out to be useful still. I’m certain Irato will have gone to ground by then, so he better have something else to give us.’
‘Can we release him ?’ Uttir asked hopefully. ‘Follow him and see if he can lead us to Irato ?’
Jehq looked down at the naked Investigator – sweat-soaked and scorched by Kodeh’s preliminary tortures. It had been enough to make the man pass out, then Uttir had come to pour a concoction of the late Father Polagin’s devising down his throat. It was one they’d used for years now ; dampening a person’s will so they were more open to questioning. It was most likely that the Investigator’s thoughts had latched onto his lover or wife as an escape from the torture. The drug Uttir had given him had just sent that on a loop through his mind, leaving no room for any other thought.
‘We shall see,’ Jehq said eventually and headed towards the barred door. ‘It’s Synter’s decision, go report to her.’
The district of the Imperial City controlled by House Redearth was a quiet corner of the city by the standards of the rest. Their homeland was far to the south at the heart of the Empire’s lesser continent, flanked by the plains-ranging hunters of House Wolf and the taciturn warriors of House Iron. The Lords of Redearth cared little for the politics of the Empire, their lands being fertile and peaceful for the main. House Iron’s spears faced west, not east, to ward off the raiders of House Leviathan while the Desert of Wolves protected much of their other border.
For Synter’s purposes, it also meant the district’s population was evenly split between paler locals and the red-brown skin of Redearth natives, so she walked without notice through the afternoon bustle. Most of the district was made up of long, enclosed housing blocks and smaller compounds, the lords and warriors of Redearth presiding over isolated communities that echoed the feudal states that characterised their homeland.
Each one displayed flags at every corner, colourful announcements of allegiance that mostly corresponded to the Houses of Redearth, Whitemountain and Condor, with a scattering of lesser emblems she did not recognise. Her destination, once she reached it, could have belonged to the minor Houses under Redearth rule, only the lack of decoration on its surrounding fence a sign that it was not owned by a noble family.
The gate was open so she slipped inside to a courtyard of neat bare earth. The training ground was empty, but a pair of black-clad men rose from an open-fronted room on the right. Synter cast around for a moment before she spotted the altar-table standing in the shadow of a long overhanging roof. She bowed to it as any visiting goshe would, and the attendants visibly relaxed.
‘I must speak to the Shure-Master,’ she called to the pair, both Redearth natives.
‘Your name, Mistress ?’ replied the nearer of the two, a tall man with long hanging hair and startling amber eyes.
He wore a gun-holster across his belly – the pistol grips bound in cloth so as not to be immediately within reach while he was wearing goshe-black. It was unthinkable for a warrior to be outside without his weapons on his person, of course, and this was the compromise most adhered to rather than invite trouble.
‘My name is not important,’ Synter said as she walked up to the men. She blinked and sensed the tiny flutter of light in her eyes as another of her Blessings worked its magic. Both men straightened immediately, commanded to obedience by the changes Moon’s Artifice had worked on them as a baby.
‘Mistress,’ the warrior said, bowing. ‘Follow me, Master Nyl is this way.’
They crossed the courtyard and the goshe opened a door for Synter to enter. Within was a wide hallway with racks of weapons on the walls and a stairway leading up to the second floor. Without prompting, Synter headed up the stairs and unexpectedly found herself in a comfortably-decorated hallway.
‘The Shure-Master lives here ?’ she asked her guide.
‘He does, Mistress. Our Shure is open to all, day or night, and Master Nyl has renounced his ties of family, as have several of our brothers and sisters.’
But I see he brought some of his money with him, Synter privately observed, running a finger over an ornate wooden table that faced the entrance to the stairs with a gilt mirror hanging above.
There was a study door past a long woven tapestry depicting four white mountains. She opened it to find a comfortable private room with a grand desk before a pair of tall windows that overlooked the training ground below. A large dining table took up much of the other half of the room – laid with silver cutlery as though Master Nyl had been expecting Synter and her whole team for dinner.
Standing behind the desk was an ochre-skinned warrior caste of middle years ; clearly not a Redearth. Synter guessed by the tapestry on the landing he was a Whitemountain, principal of the Major Houses under Redearth’s dominion.
‘Mistress ?’ the man inquired, glancing at her guide before returning his attention to Synter.
Another tiny stutter of light in her eyes told Synter he was hers to command – not that she’d have doubted it. To reach the position of Shure-Master one had to be one of those irrevocably changed by Moon’s Artifice so she didn’t bother with niceties.
‘Master Nyl, I have a task for you.’
The man bowed as the door closed behind Synter, her guide withdrawing without waiting for instructions.
‘I live to serve the Order,’ Nyl said. ‘May I offer you anything ?’
Synter shook her head. It was a strange sensation for her, a woman not used to this sort of goshe. Like all of the half-dozen others she’d met today, Nyl could function perfectly well without guidance, lead his small flock and maintain the Shure without any input from the leaders of the goshe. Except when presented with the Blessings of Command they were as free-thinking as Synter’s Detenii, skilled leaders and teachers, yet unblinking in their obedience.
Synter was more used to her Detenii teams, fighters not bound by anything more than loyalty and unity, or the slaved goshe they used as expendable agents – ones that hadn’t taken to the poison so well and were little more than mindless drones.
‘Nothing, thank you,’ she said awkwardly.
Nyl indicated for her to take a seat in an armchair and she did so, the nobleman settling easily on the other side while he waited for his instructions. After a moment’s pause Synter caught up with herself and pulled a small leather-wrapped flask from her coat pocket. Earlier there had been seven sitting there, but this was her last stop before she went to interrogate the prisoner they’d taken that morning.
‘You have a water-butt here, or something similar ?’
‘For drinking from ?’ He nodded. ‘Downstairs, by the kitchen.’
‘Pour this into it then assemble all of your goshe open to command.’ She spoke carefully, ensuring the word was accompanied by another flash of light in her eyes. ‘Have them take a flask each home and drink it with their families. Tell them it is blessed by the priesthood of Lady Healer. They should not be wearing goshe clothing.’
‘I understand. There is talk of plague in the city ; some say the wells have been poisoned by demons.’
She nodded. ‘Those already open to command will be less affected, it will take longer for them to succumb if they do at all – giving them time to fetch help and ensure their plight is known.’
‘And once they are ill ?’
‘Wait for the morning. The city will be gripped with fear of plague, a suggestion will be made that the victims are removed from the city to contain it. You will order your remaining goshe to assist in the evacuation, tell them the Order has been shamed in the eyes of the Emperor and this is the price of our penitence. They will assist the city’s doctors, Lawbringers and anyone else involved in the evacuation of the sick.’
‘Where are they being taken ?’
‘Confessor’s Island,’ she replied, ‘our sanatorium there. It’s a short boat-ride away and the only sensible place to contain such numbers.’
‘How many ?’
‘Several thousand, we believe. The goshe must all
travel to the island, but we must avoid any connection between the Order and the plague where possible – aside from our doctors being the best ones to treat it.’
Master Nyl bowed and took the flask. ‘I shall do as you command.’
*
Out in the pale afternoon sun, Enchei checked the inn environs. He shrugged his shoulders, strangely discomforted by the feel of armour around his body again. The weight was no problem, the slight constriction on his movements negligible, but with it came memories that proved far less comfortable. The armour seemed willing to accommodate the changes almost two decades had imposed – as he knew it would – but as he’d fitted the overlapping plates onto his body Enchei had felt a profound sadness settle over him.
The armour came in two distinct parts ; a flexible one-piece suit as durable as a wyvern’s scaled hide with separate pieces of plate that locked into place over it. It had been made specifically for Enchei, almost forty years ago now by Astaren mage-priests, and would outlast him despite the changes they had wrought on his body at the same time.
The suit remained strong enough to resist the crossbows of the goshe, as it had proved early that morning, but the plates would survive far greater impacts and Enchei suspected he’d need all that protection if he was to rescue Narin alone. Crucially for him though, it was all far thinner than regular armour and under normal clothes would just make him look bulky – until he put the helmet on.
I’d hoped never to do this again, Enchei thought sadly as he started off down the street. I’d hoped all this was behind me.
The memories kept on coming. Focusing on the task at hand did nothing more than quieten them ; they were too strong to deny entirely.
The coldest corners of the city – nothing a demon likes better than to be cryptic and dramatic at the same time. So now I have to trawl dead-end streets and graveyards, while Narin’s time grows shorter.
In his mind he heard voices ; the death-cries of comrades, the rage of ancient Gods. He saw the sky burn, a palace larger than the Emperor’s own collapse in on itself, and mountains fall.