by Edward Cox
The necromancer was waiting where the corridor seemed to end at a wall, which like most in the Nightshade, was covered in tiny maze patterns. Hamir’s body appeared to Van Bam’s vision as a collective of sparkling colours: the iridescence of a magical being. Hamir’s expression was as calm and unreadable as always.
‘Your friends have returned unharmed,’ he said, as Van Bam approached. ‘Charlie Hemlock is alive.’
Van Bam nodded, and they faced each other in silence for a while.
‘Hamir,’ he said finally. ‘When Clara was unconscious, did you happen to look into her mind?’
‘No. Should I have?’
Van Bam thought for a moment. ‘Clara said that Marney did something to her – kissed her. Samuel witnessed the event and claims there was a burst of energy between them. Does that mean anything to you?’
Hamir pursed his lips. ‘It could have been a mental transference, I suppose,’ he said. ‘It’s an old empath’s trick. Transmit information and messages directly into a person’s mind. It’s quicker than using words, and it seems to me that Marney definitely had cause to hurry, yes?’
‘Yes,’ said Van Bam. ‘Marney might have placed a message for the Relic Guild in Clara’s mind? Something to do with Fabian Moor.’
‘It is possible,’ Hamir said. ‘I assume you’re talking to me about this because Clara has not yet remembered any such message?’
‘That is correct,’ Van Bam replied. ‘But we need to pursue this matter, and soon, Hamir.’ He inhaled and exhaled heavily. ‘The situation is looking bleak. Gideon doubts our ability to deal with Fabian Moor.’
‘Obviously,’ said the necromancer. ‘After all, Moor is a Genii.’
‘Indeed. And we are alone, and maybe too few now. The Thaumaturgists can no longer be called upon.’
Hamir made no attempt to advance the conversation, or even nod in agreement.
Van Bam’s brow knitted. ‘When Moor was last in Labrys Town, we were made privy to certain secret arts that helped in his downfall.’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Could those arts be used again now, Hamir?’
The necromancer considered for a moment. ‘It is not impossible.’
‘Good,’ Van Bam said with some relief. ‘Then I want you to begin—’
‘Van Bam …’ Somehow, Hamir’s interruption was both soft and biting. ‘Using secret arts and uncovering hidden messages will take research and experimentation and time from a clock that is ticking for Marney, yes?’
The Resident stared at him.
‘It might be wiser to focus on interrogating Charlie Hemlock first,’ Hamir continued. ‘Once we have all the facts to hand, we will be in a better position to judge our next course of action. Am I right?’
There was no disrespect in his words, only simple, clinical facts, as was the necromancer’s way. But did he feel any fear or desperation at all for the situation?
Who could really tell what Hamir ever felt? He had been Van Bam’s constant companion through his tenure as Resident – as he had been for Gideon and many of those who came before – yet Van Bam had learned so little about him. Never truly an agent of the Relic Guild, it often seemed that without the Nightshade, Hamir might not exist at all, as if he was a personification of the building itself, a manifestation of its secrets and magic.
The necromancer cleared his throat. ‘Shall we join your friends?’
Van Bam nodded his permission. But Hamir, ever his own animal, was already opening the hidden door to his laboratory, and he led the way inside.
Clara turned as they entered. Though visibly shaken, she did not appear harmed by her experiences with the Orphan. Samuel looked none the worse for wear, as was to be expected. He stood further into the room, behind a terrified Charlie Hemlock.
Hemlock was too weak to stand, and needed Samuel’s help to remain upright. To Van Bam the small and grubby man appeared as a dark grey shade, whose eyes were bright, round and confused. Hemlock’s face and clothes were a mess of dried blood. He smelt like sewage. Hemlock looked towards Van Bam as if the Resident’s arrival offered some kind of salvation. Sadly for Hemlock, there was little hope of sympathy to be found in the present company. Yet Van Bam knew that his quick mind was already working to turn the situation to his advantage. His face was alive with deceit.
All eyes were on the Resident. Van Bam allowed the silence in the laboratory to grow, and the voice of Gideon filled his head.
You realise that Hemlock cannot leave the Nightshade alive, my idiot.
Gideon was clearly amused by the situation, but he was also correct. If Hemlock had been working for Fabian Moor, he was now a bigger danger to society than he had ever been. He could not be allowed back among the denizens.
But don’t give him to Hamir, Gideon said feverishly. Let Clara have her way with him. I think she’d enjoy the thrill.
After four decades suffering the ghost’s voice in his head, Van Bam knew when to ignore his more provocative comments.
At that moment, Hemlock broke the silence in the laboratory.
‘You saved me from a wild demon,’ he said, with a well-practised measure of humbleness. ‘I owe you my life.’
Directly behind him, Samuel snorted.
Clara stepped forward. She stood before Hemlock and locked gazes with him.
‘I don’t wish to sound ungrateful,’ Hemlock said to her worriedly, ‘but you can’t blame me for being surprised.’
Clara slapped his face, hard. ‘That’s for making me kill your friend,’ she hissed.
His legs buckling, Hemlock held a hand to his cheek. Clearly the blow had aggravated the earlier wounds. Samuel kept him upright and made him face the changeling again.
‘He wasn’t exactly my friend,’ Hemlock told her sourly, ‘but I hope that made you feel better all the same—’
He yelled as Clara kicked him between the legs. ‘And that’s for Marney!’ she shouted.
Good girl, Gideon chuckled.
With a look of amusement, Samuel allowed Hemlock to fall to the floor. As Hemlock writhed and cupped his crotch, Clara loomed over him, her hands balled into fists. It was quite apparent she did not feel that he had received just punishment yet. The colours of her small, pointed face shone with some of the wolf ’s fury.
‘Enough, Clara,’ Van Bam said. ‘I think your point has been well made.’
She seemed reluctant as she moved away.
Samuel grabbed Hemlock by the collar and hoisted him up into the chair at Hamir’s desk. The smirk on his old features suggested he approved of Clara’s actions as much as Gideon did.
‘Prepare yourself, Charlie,’ Samuel said, clamping both hands down on Hemlock’s shoulders. ‘It only gets worse from here.’
By this time, Hamir, aloof and silent, had made his way to the back of his laboratory, where he stood watching Hemlock. The necromancer’s colours remained impassive to Van Bam’s vision, but the lights of his eyes were darkening.
Holding Hemlock down, Samuel wheeled the chair towards Hamir. Hemlock’s eyes were wide with pain and fear. Beside Hamir was a tall object, covered with a silk sheet. The necromancer pulled the sheet away, and there stood an obscene mannequin. The body and limbs were a wire frame of thin metal, but upon its neck was fixed a head of flesh, the head of Fat Jacob, the owner of the Lazy House.
Hemlock emitted a choking sound. ‘Oh, Timewatcher! What is this?’
Atop the mannequin body, Jacob’s milky eyes snapped open, and his expression was furious. ‘Hemlock, you shit!’ he screamed, his voice distorted and gurgling.
Hemlock squeezed his eyes shut.
‘You said no one would know. You said it was easy business – just one of my whores. You bastard! You liar!’
Van Bam nodded to Hamir, and instantly he silenced the whorehouse owner. Fat Jacob’s eyes closed and his features dr
opped as if dead. Hamir did not cover him with the sheet again.
‘Your business associate, Charlie,’ said Samuel. ‘You should be more careful who you get involved with.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Hemlock shouted. He struggled in vain against Samuel’s grip. ‘You’ve got the wrong man!’
‘Indeed,’ Van Bam said. He moved to stand between the captive and Hamir’s handiwork. ‘Charlie, this is what I know for a fact. You were recently employed by Fabian Moor, and thus far you have performed questionable deeds in his name.’
Hemlock shook his head feverishly. ‘Moor double-crossed me. I want nothing to do with him.’
‘Too late,’ Van Bam said. ‘You know as well as we who and what Fabian Moor is, and you will tell us now where he has taken Marney.’
‘And, Charlie,’ Samuel added, ‘if you lie, he’ll know.’
‘Lie?’ Hemlock looked up at Samuel, and then at the Resident. ‘You think I’d protect Moor after he left me high and dry? I don’t care why you want him, but I hope it’s as bad as it gets.’
‘So start talking,’ said Clara.
Hemlock’s eyes flitted to the grisly sight of Fat Jacob’s head atop the mannequin’s wire body and he licked his lips. ‘It’s not that simple.’
He’s stalling, Gideon said to Van Bam. He sounded almost bored. He knows that information is the only thing keeping him alive.
‘Look,’ Hemlock continued. ‘Moor said a lot of things. He told me who you are – the Relic Guild, right? He said he could make Labrys Town a better place, only you want to prevent it.’ His expression flashed the perfect degree of helplessness. ‘He said that you’re the real enemy.’
Clara scoffed. ‘So you just went along with him, for a pocketful of money, no questions asked.’
‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking,’ Hemlock said earnestly, ‘typical me, right? But, for the first time in my life, Moor gave me something to hope for. He said he could reopen the doorways in the Great Labyrinth. He said we could see the Aelfir again.’
‘Hemlock, you aren’t even old enough to remember the Aelfir,’ Samuel said scathingly.
‘So what?’ Hemlock replied. ‘Moor said he could bring them back, and I believed in him.’
‘Believing the word of a Genii is a dangerous thing to do,’ Van Bam said, ‘and a sure way to meet death, one could say.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Hemlock continued quickly. ‘I see Moor for what he is now, but he convinced me that things could really change, started me dreaming. You must know what I mean – you live here too!’
Behind Hemlock, Samuel’s face darkened and he looked to the floor, obviously suffering some inner turmoil. Again, Van Bam wondered what the mysterious avatar had offered his old comrade in exchange for Clara’s life.
Hemlock is lying, Van Bam thought to Gideon. He is saying all the things he thinks we wish to hear.
Then play his game, my idiot, at least until his usefulness is diminished. Let him think compliance will keep him alive.
Van Bam took a step forward. ‘Please understand,’ he said to Hemlock. ‘You have been party to the schemes of a Genii, and I have many questions. If you refuse to answer them, Charlie, then you will never see the outside of the Nightshade again. Now, first of all, where is Fabian Moor hiding Marney?’
Hemlock licked his lips. ‘Listen, he only employed me to set a trap for Marney. I don’t know why he wants her. Moor never told me the details of his plans.’
‘That is not what I asked you, Charlie.’
‘I know, but … but I can’t tell you.’
‘Not good enough,’ Samuel growled. He drew his revolver, and pushed the barrel against the side of Hemlock’s head. ‘Tell us where she is or I’ll shoot off your ear.’
‘Wait!’ Hemlock shouted, shying away from the weapon. ‘I want to tell you, I really do, but I just can’t! Something’s stopping me.’
‘Is that right?’ Samuel said, and he primed the power stone.
‘You have to believe me!’ Hemlock was pleading now, on the verge of panic. His expression convinced even Van Bam. ‘I know where he’s taken Marney. I’ve seen the place. I could tell you how to get there, but …’ His breathing became laboured and he pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Every time I try to put it into words, it … it gets stuck.’
I think he’s telling the truth, Gideon said. Can’t you see it, my idiot?
Samuel reacted first. Abruptly he stepped away from Hemlock, aiming the revolver at the back of his head. ‘Magic!’ he hissed.
And he was right. Van Bam’s vision detected a flare of colour inside Hemlock’s chest.
‘Keep clear,’ he snapped. ‘Everybody.’
‘What is it?’ Clara said.
The Resident addressed Hemlock. ‘What are you feeling, Charlie?’
‘I’m not—’ Hemlock groaned, clutching his chest, and fell out of the chair to the floor. He screamed and then convulsed, entering some kind of fit.
Oh, this is interesting, Gideon chuckled.
‘Hamir!’ Van Bam shouted, and the necromancer quickly stepped over from the back of the room. He placed a hand on Hemlock’s forehead and whispered a single word:
‘Sleep.’
Instantly Hemlock ceased writhing and was still, though the magic in his chest continued to bloom to Van Bam’s inner sight.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Samuel asked.
‘He’s been cursed,’ Hamir replied. His eyes were closed as he lightly felt down Hemlock’s body. ‘There is magic wrapped around his heart. It’s burning him from the inside out.’
‘Is he dead?’ Clara asked.
‘No, not yet.’ Hamir placed his hands on either side of Hemlock’s head. ‘Interesting,’ he whispered. ‘He didn’t know he was cursed.’
Van Bam said, ‘Can you dispel it, Hamir?’
The ageing necromancer shook his head. ‘Not easily. This is the magic of a Genii.’
‘There must be something we can do?’ Clara said.
‘Perhaps,’ said Hamir. ‘But he must be placed in stasis, and quickly.’
‘Samuel,’ Van Bam snapped, and together they lifted Hemlock and carried him from the laboratory.
Forty Years Earlier
Thaumaturgist
Although dawn had broken and the sun had cleared the boundary wall, it was not yet high enough to banish the twilight that loitered over Labrys Town. Slowly, inexorably, its warm rays chased the shadows from the cold corners of town and evaporated the night’s moisture. A light mist hung in the air, clinging to the last chill of Silver Moon, and Marney pulled her jacket tighter around her body.
Standing in the gloomy forecourt outside the Nightshade, she waited for Denton’s arrival. She had projected a shield of empathic magic around her, like a cloak of emotions that hid her in plain sight by steering the perceptions of others away from her physical presence. For Marney was not the only person under the scrutiny of the security eyes in the forecourt, and it was important that she conceal herself from those who did not know the identities of the Relic Guild agents.
The forecourt gates were open and before the tunnel that led to Resident Approach was a large cargo tram. A team of warehousemen stood around the tram, waiting for delivery of the goods they would load into it. They chatted with a duo of armed police officers as they waited, entirely unaware of the young empath watching them.
To Marney’s left stood a huge stone archway. The space within it was as black as a shroud of starless night. Its surface rippled like dark, glassy water, filling the morning air with a gentle humming as it prepared to receive cargo from somewhere far beyond the realm of the Labyrinth. Officially, this arched portal was the only one that connected directly to the Aelfir and was not a doorway of the Great Labyrinth. It was also the only portal currently permitted to function in town, and it did so for most of the hours i
n a day, every day. Since the war with Spiral had begun, trade with the Aelfir had been rationed to the importing of essential goods only. All export had ceased. All travel to and from the Labyrinth was prohibited.
Six months ago, when Marney had been a student at the Central District University, studying for a degree in history, she had been due to conduct a special project which would have allowed her to spend an entire term studying at a designated Aelfirian House. She could have learnt so much history, seen so much culture, while being guided by the Aelfir themselves. Of course, the war had put paid to such excursions – and Marney’s student career had been cut short by her recruitment into the Relic Guild, anyway – but she always dreamed that one day she would get the chance to visit the realms outside the Labyrinth. Now that day had arrived, she did not feel so sure of herself.
She wished she and Van Bam could have spent more time together, but he and Samuel were already off following Gideon’s orders, investigating the movements of Carrick the treasure hunter. Marney always felt more confident when Van Bam was around.
The humming of the arched portal dipped in pitch. The warehousemen and the police officers jumped to attention. From the portal, a floating platform was emerging, piled high with supplies. The glassy blackness clung to the cargo with fingers of viscous fluid that slowly raked over the crates and metal storage containers as more of the platform drifted into the forecourt. When it finally cleared the portal, two transport guards appeared, ushering it along, protecting the cargo stacked high and wide. Marney resisted the urge to step back from them, for these were no ordinary guards. They were automaton sentries.
Humanoid, the automatons stood eight feet tall at least. Their metal bodies were thin and skeletal, exposing their internal mechanisms like monstrous clockwork toys. Their faces were smoothly silver, lacking any kind of feature. The sounds of their feet clanged metallically against the hard stone of the forecourt floor, but there was something graceful about their movements as they pushed the loaded platform towards the cargo tram.
Beautiful, aren’t they? Denton said in Marney’s mind.