A Lady in Crystal

by Toby Bennett

  Yilt had mentioned the story more than once when they were novices together, though he had always been prepared to settle for whatever the descendants of the famous brewers had been prepared to pull out of their antiquated laboratories. Akna slipped into the Rose, unnoticed and took up a position in a seat near the door. He bought a short glass of something that made his nose itch, just to sit near and waited. Around him, the men and women who had come to the Asylum to find their salvation, drank and danced and gambled, as they might have done anywhere else in the city, except now, under the pretence of piety, the whole scene would have looked quite sordid to an outsider's eye. The patrons of the tavern cavorted in the name of a god of madness and dreams, their abandon seeming to churn the thick smoke into strange shapes that oozed and flowed and eventually seeped up to join the eternally swirling cloud hanging over the city. The Rose was as much an altar as any chapel or sepulchre in the inner sanctum, it was in this wild madness that Niskaan’s blessing found its true strength. It was something that Akna had once been taught, once understood, even if he couldn’t appreciate such places the way Yilt did. It all meant nothing to him now, now he waited with a single purpose, hours or days, it would not matter, Yilt would come here and then he would be one step closer to finding Ilsar; the only question was what he would do when he did.

  Chapter 12

  “Let he who gropes and rakes in shadow,

  Know their path and mind the cost;

  For in dark waters, deep and shallow,

  There lies an army of the lost.”

  “He is here,” the waiter whispered furtively.

  Akna dropped a coin, worth more than ten times the price of his untouched drink on the table and made no other response. Even without enlisting the waiter's help, he could not have failed to notice Yilt entering the Rose. Three years on the streets, unprotected by the rules of the Asylum, had taught Akna a caution that the initiate did not posses. As a priest, Yilt clearly considered himself untouchable, for the most part he was right; whatever differences the chosen of Niskaan might have amongst themselves, they would close ranks if any of the inmates had the audacity to harm one of their own. No perpetrator could hope to escape their detection if they searched in unison, his own thoughts would betray him. The only choice for an inmate, mad enough to attack a priest, would be to run and even leaving Niskar might not be enough, if the brethren decided to hunt for you in dreams.

  Akna knew he would have to leave quickly, the waiter would almost certainly try to earn more coin by telling Yilt that someone was looking for him, with any luck the waiter's information would be enough to draw Yilt. If he timed things right, he would be able to get the priest alone and find out what he knew about the goings on in the inner wards. Akna doubted that Yilt would know much, the heads of the church played their cards close to their chests, but there was a chance that he had heard of Ilsar and could tell him who she worked for; if not, it was on to the next man who had tried to kill him. Akna rose, just as Yilt took his seat and the waiter scurried over to him. He walked unhurriedly towards the exit, keeping his target in the corner of his eye, he paused for the few extra seconds it took to give Yilt the chance to hear the waiter's hurried whispers and to notice him leaving and then stepped through the door into the dim corridor of the Asylum.

  He walked slowly, making no attempt to hide in the shadows. When he was sure he had given Yilt time to mark him and his route could have been easily observed, Akna turned into one of the side corridors that snaked off into some forgotten corner of the Asylum. He used the smell emanating from the third corridor on his left to identify one of the impromptu latrines used by the locals. Akna held his breath, as he went into the stinking darkness and made a show of loosening the strings on his breeches. Akna knew that the attack, which came within seconds of his apparent vulnerability, was inevitable. Yilt had lived long enough in the cut-throat world of the Asylum, to know that a stranger making enquires about you was not something to be ignored, but since the stranger appeared to be just one more inmate, Yilt was over confident.

  He did not even make his attack with the murderous intent that Akna could have expected on the streets of Niskar. It was not unknown for orders to test the vigilance of their members. The possibility that it might be a member of his own order that he was ambushing, blunted Yilt’s attack. His intention was to subdue Akna rather than strike a killing blow. Yilt was good enough that he made no noise as he pounced, if Akna had not been prepared, he would have been pinned on the ground before he knew what had happened. The anticipation of an attack barely gave Akna the edge he needed.

  Yilt’s arm snaked round trying, to secure a hold on Akna’s throat; instead of resisting, Akna allowed himself to drop into a semi-crouch, leaving Yilt clutching at empty air. Before Yilt could regain his balance, Akna spun and aimed a low, sweeping kick at Yilt’s ankle, already off balance, Yilt tumbled forward as Akna pivoted and leapt to Yilt’s side. He managed to dodge past Yilt’s wind-milling arms and reached out to thrust the falling man down onto the filth strewn floor. He followed the motion of his falling opponent, falling with him and slamming his knee into Yilt’s back, at the same moment as the priest hit the cobbles.

  Air exploded from Yilt’s lungs, leaving only a burning emptiness and disorientation, when he finally managed to draw in a breath, he instantly regretted it and began to choke on the rank air around him.

  “It’s good to see you again, Yilt,” Akna said leaning down and talking into his ear, “you don’t want to make too much noise or I will have to end our talk early.”

  Yilt felt cold metal touch the base of his skull, any hope that this was some member of his own order was quickly dispelled; they might have roughed him up a bit for a shoddily executed attack but the knife told him that things were more serious.

  “I’ll give you one chance to take that blade from my neck. In case you hadn’t noticed I am under Niskaan’s protection.”

  “Plenty of men have died under Niskaan’s protection, priest. I’ve come to the conclusion that he doesn’t much care about those who claim his protection.”

  “My brothers will tear your mind to pieces, fool. If I don’t do it myself, first.”

  “And you think you can drive me mad faster than I can fit this blade between your vertebra? Please, let us dispense with threats. Currently, mine far outweigh any you could possibly make.”

  Yilt sagged, it was clear that bluster would not be enough to secure his release.

  “What do you want?”

  “Simply some information. For a start have you ever heard the name Ilsar?” Akna felt Yilt’s body stiffen under him.

  “You’ve heard the name.”

  “But no more than that,” Yilt gasped, “you must believe me, I have done nothing to compromise the Cardinal, or any of his operatives.”

  “Which cardinal does she work for?”

  The question took Yilt by surprise. He was still dazed and disorientated but he realised that his initial assumption was likely wrong. The attack probably had nothing to do with the ongoing struggle between Cardinal Lothar and his master. For a start an agent of Nephod would not have to ask who the secretive female assassin served. Clearly, he was dealing with someone not involved in the normal machinations of either of the prime movers in the temple’s underground. Perhaps his attacker wasn’t even from within the Asylum. The man’s question indicated that he was trying to find his bearings, catching up on things anyone already in the game would know.

  “Cardinal Nephod, of course,” the priest spat out, “you needn’t have accosted me thus to find this out. It is common enough knowledge which I would have happily shared.”

  Not strictly true, the female assassin was something of an oddity amongst the ranks of the Asylum’s killers. Most operatives took on the dual role of priest and assassin for their cause. It was an open secret that cardinals were served by some men as handy with a dagger as a prayer wheel; second tier sects, like Asemutt, relied on being intermediaries for the cardina
ls' will. Gilash still claimed the patronage of twelve of the seventeen cardinals who sat on the temple’s council. Ilsar stood out because, although women priests were not forbidden, they were not typically trained to kill. Ilsar did not even fall into the category of women who used men’s sexual weaknesses to destroy them. By all accounts Ilsar was as well trained as any killer or adept Asemutt had ever counted in its number.

  “You were no doubt trying to have that talk, when you tried to jump me, while I was distracted.”

  “Yes a misunderstanding, you had been asking about me and I wanted to know why. Let me up and we can discuss this like civilised men.”

  “We can talk just as well in our current positions. So tell me what you know of the Cardinal and Ilsar.”

  Yilt struggled to guess who the man questioning him might be. His instinct told him that he should know the answer. Something was familiar about the voice. He knew it from somewhere, but he was also sure that this was no test, so it was not one of his brothers. If the man did not work for the Cardinal and he was not a plant sent to test him, perhaps his orders came from beyond the Asylum.

  Since the overthrow of the king, the aristocratic houses had taken their lead from Niskaan’s high priests. Even the Hierophant, who was nominally both prince of the city and head of the church, took his lead from the conclave of cardinals. Was it possible that either the Hierophant or the nobles were making a play for real power after all this time? The Hierophant seemed unlikely; no one with such intimate knowledge of the Asylum’s politics would use an agent who seemed so ill informed. It had to be the nobles. Yilt could think of no one else who would be foolish to assault a priest and think they could get away with it. If he could discover who his attacker worked for and manage to survive the experience, he might yet profit.

  “I don’t know much. It might help me to know why you need to know about her.” At the same time as he was saying this Yilt extended his mind to the borders of Niskaan’s realm. It was dangerous to try to touch the other man’s mind directly. Yilt assumed that anyone who was brazen enough to attack a man of the cloth would also have mental defences to match, but there was a chance that he could pick up some disturbance in the veil that might give him a hint of his captor's thoughts. It shocked Yilt to find that there was no disturbance in the veil, he could not allow himself to lapse into a trance since he did not want to arouse suspicion, but with his limited waking awareness of Niskaan’s realm he was not able to detect any disturbance to the veil, other than the turbulence caused by his own fear. He had expected to sense the tension and restrained violence that should have been pouring off anyone in the man’s position. Even the most disciplined minds would have had some effect on the membrane between the waking world and the endless realms beyond. Yilt began to seriously wonder if his captor was even human, until the man began to laugh.

  It was a hollow sound, devoid of humour and terrifying if you were lying in the darkness and stench, with the business end of a very sharp dagger at the back of your neck.

  “Stop asking questions, Yilt, the more you know, the more certain it is that the next dream chaser who stops in here for a shit, will find you stuffed into the nearest drain. Or perhaps they won’t find you, is this somewhere you would like to be buried?”

  “I did not meant to offend, only to understand what I should tell you.”

  “No offence taken, I am trying to help you. If you know too much I’ll have to kill you. Let me do you a favour, you tell me everything you know and I will decide what’s important.”

  “I know almost nothing about Ilsar, truly. If someone told you that I have any special knowledge then you have been mislead.”

  “Do you know where Ilsar lives?”

  “No, but if she is with Lothar, she’s probably housed in his tower.”

  “Is there anywhere she is known to frequent?”

  “Not that anyone has ever told me and I only have the tales of others to go on.”

  “So who told you those tales?” The point of the knife pressed down a bit more, when Yilt hesitated to betray one of his brothers.

  “His name’s Daven, we used to work together but now he mostly minds his flock.”

  “No need to worry about giving away anything, I am well aware of the type of work that you and Daven have a hand in.”

  “A poor turn of phrase there friend. Whatever you may think you know, you are clearly unaware that Daven is no longer capable of doing much more than his priestly duties, or perhaps you do know that already?”

  “Explain.”

  “If you know about Daven, you should also know that he lost his arm and the woman you’re looking for was involved.”

  “I am not testing you, ‘friend’ and if I knew these things, I wouldn’t bother to ask. Just tell me what you know.” Akna bore down on Yilt’s back with his knee to make his point.

  “All right, all right,” Yilt gasped through the pain. “There really isn’t much to tell except what I heard.”

  “And what did you hear?”

  “I was told that he and one of our brothers, bumped into Ilsar when they were making a delivery to cardinal Malkan.”

  “Bumped into?”

  “All right, the bitch was waiting for them. She killed Daven’s companion and left him with a rotting crossbow wound and a lame arm.”

  “How can you be sure it was Ilsar?”

  “I can’t, I only have rumours. If you want to find out about her, why don’t you ask him? He’s been obsessed with her since, probably beg you to go after her. At least you wouldn’t have to put a knife to his throat to get the answers you want.”

  “If I could get close enough, I imagine he leaves the compound less than you do, especially with his lame arm. If you want me to look elsewhere, you are going to have to make it sound possible.” The dagger twisted slightly, drawing a small drop of blood, as if to emphasise the threat if of what might happen if Yilt couldn’t make a viable suggestion for getting to Daven.

  “I told you, he tends to his flock, find him then.”

  “But he will not be alone or unguarded; can’t you think of anything more useful to save your life?”

  “I have your word that you will spare me?” Yilt was too seasoned to have much faith in Akna’s suggestion that he might survive his interrogation. But Daven might yet avenge him. Even without an arm, Daven was not to be underestimated. It gave Yilt some comfort to think that his killer would be joining him at Niskaan’s side soon enough.

  “He visits a woman,” Yilt yelped.

  “You are very quick to betray a brother.”

  “Were you looking forward to carving me up before I talked? Say what you like we know that the result would have been the same, but this way I get to keep my skin.”

  “There is also a school of thought that says that any information so quickly given, is not to be trusted. Does this woman Daven visits have a name?”

  “Viesa, she is one of the chosen, working in the south wheel, at the Altar of Krex.”

  “You suggest that I should seek Daven at the shrine to a saint? How will I be any less conspicuous than if I sought Daven out amongst his own parishioners?”

  “They have no approval for the liaison. Viesa maintains a small apartment close by the shrine, a run-down place, two over from the Trillan fountain, the sort of place where no one would suspect the mistress of Krex’s altar could be found.”

  “And Daven visits her there? How often?”

  “Every couple of cycles, from what my sources tell me.”

  The man on Yilt’s back was silent as he pondered his captive's words, examining them for lies or misdirection. Yilt spent several tense seconds enduring the stench of the gutters close to him, until he could take no more.

  “I have told you all I know, stranger, but surely it is enough? You asked me to give you information that will get you close to Daven and I can think of nothing better than a secret meeting place few know about. Those who do know, are doing their all to look the other way and Dave
n will have found an excuse to be gone from his duties for a few hours. He will be isolating himself and be as vulnerable as you are ever likely to find him, that is if you insist on this aggressive interrogation. Whatever you decide I’ve done all I can and you can ask him what you need to know.”

  “And leave you alone, of course.”

  “What do you want from me? You asked me if I had heard of Ilsar and I’ve told you all I can. Daven will know more, so ask him. Personally I try and stay out of the way of the Cardinal’s people, unless ordered not to; your masters in the city would do well to do the same.”

  The empty laugh sounded again.

  “Still trying to guess at my motivations? Save yourself the trouble, you couldn’t possibly know why I am here. I can’t have you telling Daven or your masters that I am coming either.”