by Edward Cox
The old empath came to stand beside her. He was dressed in another rumpled three-piece-suit, his tatty coat and floppy hat, and he had shielded his presence to all but her.
Such a grand achievement in metallurgy, don’t you think?
Marney nodded in agreement with ‘grand’, but she wasn’t so sure the term ‘beautiful’ was strictly apt.
She had seen automatons before; they always acted as transport guards for these cargo deliveries, and they were the only things allowed to travel back out of the portal. Their impressive aesthetics were matched only by their intimidating size and incredible strength. They stood silent, their featureless faces moving slowly from side to side as if scanning the area, as the warehousemen began loading the tram with the crates and containers from the platform. The police supervised the transaction, while a smartly dressed official from the Merchants’ Guild matched goods with his checklist. Every man worked in silence, clearly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the automatons, and Marney did not blame them.
If so ordered, these intricate, ‘beautiful’ machines would become vicious warriors. Bullets would have no effect on them, and they were protected against magic. They were powered by a kind of energy the denizens of Labrys Town could barely understand. The automatons were the creations, the servants, of the Thaumaturgists.
Come, Denton thought to her. We should be going.
He led Marney away from the importing of cargo, and she gave one final glance back at the automatons before following her mentor along the towering south wall of the Nightshade. The old empath was in good cheer and he emoted a sense of joy to Marney, which she accepted gratefully – though, even with its help, she couldn’t block her sense of nervousness entirely. Once they had walked beyond earshot of the warehousemen, Denton gave a flourish of his hand.
‘The Great Labyrinth is larger than imagination, Marney.’
She nodded. ‘I know.’
‘And it sometimes seems that the doorways to the Houses of the Aelfir are too numerous to count.’
‘I know.’
‘However, identifying which Aelfirian House you wish to travel to is one thing, finding its doorway among the never ending alleyways of the Great Labyrinth is entirely another.’
Marney rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I know.’
But Denton wasn’t deterred by the irritation in her voice.
‘On foot, it could take days of wandering the alleyways – weeks, months, years – to find the doorway you seek. And that just won’t do, will it? We’re busy people, Marney, with little spare time on our hands.’
Marney sighed. ‘Denton, I’m tired, I’m nervous, and you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. Is there some point you’re trying to make here?’
‘Always!’ Denton grinned and put a big arm around her shoulders. ‘If I have taught you anything it is of the vast gulf between knowing a thing and experiencing it. And you, Marney, are about to experience what you have only read about in books.’
She gave her mentor a timid smile. ‘I know.’
‘That’s my girl,’ Denton beamed. ‘Come on.’
Reaching the end of the south wall, they turned left and followed the Nightshade’s eastern face all the way to its northern side. Halfway along the north wall, they came to a place where a slim column of light-coloured stone protruded from the ground, set back from the pedestals that held the security eyes. Between the column and the towering boundary wall, another arched portal was positioned, this one shorter and thinner than its counterpart on the south side.
Denton drew Marney up to the column. She looked into a square stone box fixed at the top of it. The box was filled with a thick, gelatinous substance that gave off a faint purple glow.
Denton said, ‘To find the doorway to your desired destination, Marney, you need three things. The first is a portal.’
So saying, he pressed his hand into the gelatinous substance. When he withdrew, the perfect indent of his handprint glowed purple for a moment before sinking down deep into the substance. The stone archway before the column hummed and a rippling veil of glassy darkness appeared within it.
Denton raised a finger. ‘Second, you need the correct House symbol for the House you wish to travel to,’ and he used his finger to draw the shape of a diamond inside a circle into the gelatinous substance. It, too, glowed and sank.
‘The third and final ingredient,’ Denton said, ‘is the means to connect the portal to the doorway of the House you are seeking – a shadow carriage.’
On the floor between the column and the portal, a large, black circle appeared, darker than the shadows cast by the Nightshade. Denton took Marney’s hand and led her towards it. Together they stood upon the dark disc, and instantly Marney felt disorientated.
She gripped her mentor’s hand tighter. Denton sent her a wave of confidence to dispel her uncertainty.
‘Your trepidation is understandable,’ he told her, ‘but this trip is long overdue for you, Marney. You have nothing to fear.’
The edge of the dark circle began to ruffle and lift – folding upwards like a dying leaf. Tentacles of black matter stretched out and up over the empaths, thinning as they crisscrossed above them to form a mesh-like covering. The process continued until they stood inside a sphere made of thousands of wire-thin shadows that began to spin around them. The humming of the portal was drowned out by the high whine of gathering energy.
‘Here it comes,’ Denton said happily. ‘Wait for it …’
As the lines of shadow spun faster and faster, Marney’s stomach fluttered and gravity failed. She and Denton rose into the air within the sphere, floating as if they were in water. Marney’s only thought was of escaping the cage.
‘Don’t panic!’ Denton laughed, gripping her hand as she tried to wriggle free. ‘It’s quite normal.’ With his free hand, he pointed through the lines of shadow at the portal outside. ‘But brace yourself,’ he warned. ‘The trip can get a little rough.’
The dark lines were spinning so fast now that Marney felt sick to look at them. The high whining reached a crescendo, and then the sphere shot forwards with such a lurch, with such speed, she had no time to control her emotions.
She screamed as the shadow carriage shot into the portal.
Sudden darkness engulfed her. There was a whomping sound, as if someone had wobbled a thin sheet of wood, and then she was hurtling through the alleyways of the Great Labyrinth.
Black bricks flashed by with a steady stream of blurred motion. The sphere travelled the alleyways so fast it was impossible to tell if it took the twists and turns without slowing, or if it passed straight through the walls without hindrance.
Marney screamed again.
Denton’s laugh was loud, full of joy, and his excited voice filled Marney’s head.
When I first used a shadow carriage, I was sick all over my travelling companions! And he laughed again.
Marney found no joy in the experience. She still floated inside the sphere, quite gently, and felt no sense of movement beyond what her eyes perceived, not even the rush of wind upon her face. She felt dizzy, nauseated, as the alleyways sped by, and she desperately wanted something more solid than Denton’s hand to cling to. She decided her mentor’s arm, as free-floating as her own, would have to suffice. She clasped it tightly with both hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Denton’s shoulder as the sphere flew deeper and deeper into the Great Labyrinth …
Marney’s feet touched ground.
A moment passed, and she found the courage to open her eyes. The shadow carriage was once again a dark, flat disc on the floor beneath her feet, and this time it was cast upon the cobbles of an alleyway. The journey had ended.
‘Are you all right?’ Denton asked.
Marney realised she was still gripping his arm and she released it. The moment she did, a wave of dizziness swamped her, and
she had to steady herself against the alley wall.
Denton helped her to stay upright. ‘Deep breaths,’ he urged.
The dizziness passed, and Marney looked down the alleyway that stretched away into the gloom without turn. She could be anywhere in the Great Labyrinth, she realised, and she had no idea how far they had travelled from the Nightshade.
Turning around, she was surprised to be confronted by a wooden door set into the alley’s end wall. Unassuming, it could have belonged to any house in Labrys Town. Above it, attached to the brickwork, was a plate of dulled metal into which was engraved a symbol depicting a diamond within a circle.
Denton said, ‘When we again know a time of peace, Marney, you will learn the symbols that represent the Houses and realms beyond the Labyrinth. And you can use these symbols to visit the Aelfir whenever you choose.’ He grinned at her. ‘Duties permitting, of course.’
When Marney replied, her voice was tight. ‘But Gideon’s not sending us to visit the Aelfir, is he?’ She took a breath. ‘We’re going to see a Thaumaturgist.’
‘Ah,’ said Denton. ‘Not just any Thaumaturgist, Marney. You’re going to meet Lady Amilee – a Skywatcher.’ He pointed at the diamond within a circle above the door. ‘And that is her House symbol.’
The old empath moved his large bulk over to the door, which he opened to reveal a swirling whiteness on the other side.
Marney heard a low moaning like distant wind. The whiteness seemed almost fluid, as thick as churning glue, and she knew that it stretched back much further than the depth of the alley wall.
‘The Nothing of Far and Deep,’ Denton announced.
She swallowed and took a step away from it.
‘The pathways to all Houses lead through its primordial mists, Marney, and you must not be afraid.’ He offered her his hand. ‘Shall we?’
Marney held back. She trusted her mentor as much as – if not more so – Van Bam, but something stopped her from reaching out and taking his hand.
Denton smiled kindly, patiently, and said, ‘Gideon believes this trip will be good for you, Marney, and I concur wholeheartedly. It is high time you gained some experience, and it is not wise to keep a Thaumaturgist waiting.’
Marney’s stomach swirled, but this time when Denton offered his hand she took it. He led her up to the doorway. She held her breath, gripped her mentor’s hand tightly, and together they stepped into the heavy whiteness of the Nothing of Far and Deep.
The boundaries of the solid collapsed, bridging the distance between two different points in space. At first, Marney was utterly blind. She could still feel Denton’s hand gripping hers, but there was no ground beneath her feet. She thought to feel wet or suffocated, but all that came to her was a curious sensation of falling slowly … so slowly. However, with sudden and brilliant streaks of silver-blue that crackled around her like lightning, she saw she travelled with forward motion, as if she was drifting along a tunnel that cut through storm clouds. Beyond the tunnel’s ghostly walls, she could see their path continuing on, weaving through the Nothing of Far and Deep like a thread of black silk in a milky ocean.
Here it comes, Denton’s thought warned her. Don’t fight against it.
The streaks of lightning highlighted another portal up ahead. Like a stopper in the end of the tunnel, its glassy darkness swirled, devouring the wispy, cloud-like substance of the tunnel walls. Marney could not be certain if she travelled towards the portal, or if it was moving to her, but she was flying much faster than she realised. The portal and empath rushed to meet each other head on with a speed that showed no sign of slowing. Marney raised her hands to protect herself. The name of her lover tumbled from her lips, as if Van Bam could somehow materialise and save her from this madness …
There was no bigger nocturnal haunt in Labrys Town than Green Glass Row. Many denizens considered it a scab on their town, beneath which all of society’s immorality festered. Others worshipped its clubs and taverns, and abandoned themselves to the heady pleasures so readily available. Green Glass Row was the midnight creature that never slept, at least not while darkness shrouded the sky. Only sunshine could quieten the beast; only sunshine could send its worshippers scurrying like rats for their beds – sunshine and the shame that arrived with the cold light of day.
There was, however, one establishment that did not mourn the loss of night, a club that hid itself well along Green Glass Row: the Twilight Bar. It welcomed the morning sun, if less so the attentions of the Relic Guild.
Van Bam and Samuel stood in the main lounge of the Twilight Bar. The room was easily large enough to hold a dance floor and a stage for a band; but there was no stage or music playing, and where a dance floor might have been was a square expanse of carpet as thick as it was dark. Beneath the dull, blue glow of ceiling prisms, the stillness was broken only by occasional moans of pleasure, or sobs of despair, coming from a series of evenly spaced alcoves set into the walls. Behind diaphanous, backlit curtains, silhouettes writhed upon reclining chairs, lost to deep dreams. The bitter tang of narcotic smoke hung in the air.
Van Bam gazed at Samuel who was watching the silhouettes behind the curtains. He knew his fellow agent wore an expression of disgust, even though he could not see his face. Samuel’s hat was made from enchanted material, and the shadows cast by its wide brim steeped his every feature in total darkness. As for Van Bam, he had cast an illusion upon himself that smeared his facial features into an unidentifiable blur.
He raised his green glass cane, now appearing as a plain walking stick made of wood, and he used it to tap Samuel lightly on the shoulder. He then nodded towards the small bar at the far end of the lounge, and they headed towards it.
The features of the serving girl appeared almost demonic in the blue glow that radiated up from the floor behind the bar. Her smooth, black hair fell about her shoulders like a mane of oil.
Samuel reached her first. ‘Go and get Taffin,’ he demanded in a growl.
She stared at Samuel for a long moment, quietly standing her ground, but her eyes became uncertain as they tried and failed to pierce the darkness shrouding his face. Finally, she turned her gaze to Van Bam’s blurred features.
‘I’ll see if Mr Taffin is available,’ she whispered.
‘Of course,’ Van Bam said.
The serving girl stepped from behind the bar and disappeared through a side door.
Van Bam shook his head at his fellow agent. ‘Did it ever occur to you that you do not have to treat everyone like an enemy?’
Samuel snorted. ‘I hate this place,’ he said, gesturing to the alcoves. ‘Look at them.’
Behind the curtains, the patrons of the Twilight Bar were attended by shadowy female forms. These women held long pipes to the lips of their clients; and after every inhalation, in every alcove around the room, so many mouths exhaled long plumes of smoke – smoke that had first been emptied of far and distant visions.
‘They should learn to deal with things like the rest of us,’ Samuel said bitterly. ‘They’re not the only ones to lose something in this war.’
Van Bam always found it a little disappointing when Samuel expressed his intolerant outlook on life; it was so hard to sympathise with his opinions. The Twilight Bar was an exclusive and discreet club that catered for the tastes of certain denizens who wished to maintain their good reputation in town. Many of the club’s members were merchants who had enjoyed a lucrative import and export trade with the Houses of the Aelfir before the war. But in the two years since the use of the doorways of the Great Labyrinth had been forbidden, the wealth of these merchants had dwindled, with some of them now heading towards poverty. The Twilight Bar offered reprieve from reality and escape into dreams of what life had been like before the war began – if only for a short time – while the families of these struggling merchants believed them to be conducting business in the central district.
But where Van B
am saw fellow denizens on the brink of losing everything, Samuel saw greedy profiteers who had never deserved their privileged lifestyle in the first place.
‘We do what we must to get by, Samuel,’ Van Bam said. ‘Not everything in life is as cut and dried as you see it. There is no point in causing trouble.’
‘Me, cause trouble?’ Samuel scoffed. ‘I think you’d know more about that.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘You know exactly what it means, Van Bam. And you and Marney are idiots if you think you’re not making trouble for yourselves.’
Van Bam barely suppressed a glare. Evidently, his relationship with Marney was not as secret as they both would have liked.
He felt a sudden pang as he thought of his lover. Denton had taken her, along with the terracotta jar, to see Lady Amilee, the Skywatcher. He couldn’t help but worry about how she would cope with meeting a member of the Thaumaturgists for the first time.
‘Whatever Marney and I do is none of your business, Samuel.’
Samuel shrugged. ‘I don’t care either way.’
‘Then why did you bring it up?’
Fortunately, before the conversation could go any further, the serving girl emerged through the side door and approached them.
‘Mr Taffin is ready to see you now,’ she whispered.
She led the Relic Guild agents out of the lounge of moaning silhouettes into a small stairwell, and then up a spiralling staircase of varnished wood.
Mr Taffin was the owner of the Twilight Bar. His clients paid him well to ensure they retained their anonymity and his employees asked no questions and saw nothing. The narcotic Taffin provided for his clients came from a fungus called cynobe. It grew in the forests of a few realms of the Aelfir, and was primarily used by oracles for revisiting dreams that might hold visions of the future. Officially cynobe was, and always had been, an illegal substance in Labrys Town, but Mr Taffin and the Twilight Bar were given special dispensation by the Resident.