by Edward Cox
Although it was impossible to import cynobe at present, Gideon had instructed Gene the apothecary to synthesise regular catchments of the narcotic so Mr Taffin could fulfil his clients’ cravings. It was necessary to show the heads of important merchant families that they had a friend in their Resident, who was occasionally willing to turn a blind eye to his own laws for them. The Labyrinth needed to keep the Merchant Guild functioning, at least on some level, for they would be sorely needed to re-establish contact with the Aelfir when these troubled times ended.
As a result Mr Taffin, perhaps most of all, profited from the war between the Timewatcher and Spiral. And in return for his good fortunes, he had become an informant for the Relic Guild. Not all of his clients were merchants, and his ears were burrowed deep into Labrys Town’s underworld. It was his information that had led them to the treasure hunter Carrick and the problems at Chaney’s Den.
The spiralling staircase led to an open plan attic apartment, decorated with gaudy statues and brightly coloured artwork hanging on the walls. Mr Taffin sat on a long couch at the end of the room, under the bright dawn light shining in through a huge round window behind him.
Van Bam looked at the serving girl. ‘You may leave us,’ he said, quietly but firmly.
She didn’t move at first, only looked to Mr Taffin for guidance. Not until he waved her away with his hand did she turn and head back down the stairs.
Once she was gone and out of earshot, Mr Taffin said, ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again quite so soon, my friends.’
His words were met with stony silence.
Mr Taffin was a short, middle-aged fat man with a mop of grey hair and a perpetual smile that never quite reached his small eyes. He was dressed as garishly as always, in a suit of burgundy velvet with a matching cravat. Van Bam didn’t need illusionist skills to see through his pomp and oily smile. The man was frightened; he’d never had the Relic Guild come into his home, and he knew the reason for this visit could not be good.
‘Would you like to join me for breakfast?’ he said, casually, motioning to the table before him where a carafe of coffee stood beside a large wicker basket filled with sugary pastries.
Van Bam shook his head.
He and Samuel approached the table.
Mr Taffin dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and frowned up at the concealed faces of the agents. ‘At least let me pour you some coffee.’
Further silence greeted the offer.
‘You are sure?’ he said, failing to hide the nervousness in his voice. ‘It’s ground from beans from Green Sky Forest. Expensive. Not easy to come by in the Labyrinth nowadays.’
‘Shut up, Taffin,’ Samuel said. ‘We’re not here for your bloody coffee.’
Mr Taffin struggled to keep his smile in place. ‘I-I don’t understand,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I sent no message to the Resident. I have nothing new to tell the Relic Guild. My stock of cynobe is full. I …’ Words failing, he looked at Van Bam as if seeking a more civil and understanding temperament.
‘Do not look to me for sympathy,’ Van Bam told him. ‘Not after you chose to omit certain facts from the recent information you provided.’
‘And by omitted,’ Samuel said, ‘he means you lied to us, Taffin.’
‘Lied?’ The club owner’s expression was one of almost genuine bemusement – almost. ‘Was my information not accurate?’
‘In part,’ said Samuel. ‘Carrick did arrange the sale of an artefact at Chaney’s Den, but the time of the meeting had been changed. When we got there everyone was dead.’
Unsuccessfully, Mr Taffin tried to blink away the fear in his small eyes. ‘But you can’t blame me for that,’ he whispered. ‘I pass on what I hear. I’m not responsible for what happens afterwards.’
‘No,’ said Van Bam, ‘but you are obligated to divulge every fact of note.’
‘Like Carrick’s buyer being an Aelf,’ Samuel added.
This time Mr Taffin’s expression was genuinely bemused. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said. ‘I told you the truth. I never discovered the buyer’s identity, or what Carrick was selling.’
‘Yet there is something you are not telling us,’ said Van Bam. ‘It is apparent in your expression, Mr Taffin.’
Mr Taffin looked from the hidden face of one man to the other and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
As an informant, Mr Taffin was very good at his job, but he was also sly, if not particularly clever about it. Van Bam knew as well as Samuel that he liked to hold back certain facts from the information he gave, as if he was collecting them as bargaining chips he could somehow use at a later date. Usually his information was sound enough, and whatever little secrets he kept were of no consequence. But not on this occasion; and the Relic Guild had no time to play his games.
Van Bam sighed. ‘Mr Taffin, you have been helpful to us in the past, and we are always grateful for your service. But you should know that you are not the only denizen capable of running the Twilight Bar.’
‘What?’
‘He’s right, Taffin,’ Samuel added. ‘One word to the entertainment council and a different name goes on this club’s licence.’
These comments had the desired effect of drilling into Taffin’s worst fears. During that moment of vulnerability, Van Bam read his micro-expressions and the answer to the secret he was keeping bloomed in the illusionist’s mind.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I believe there is something you forgot to tell us about Carrick, Mr Taffin. You are hiding a detail concerning his team of treasure hunters, yes?’
‘Surely not?’ Samuel said with mock disappointment. He then bent forwards over the table. ‘Save yourself some trouble, you idiot, before I shoot you on principle.’
Mr Taffin threw his napkin onto his breakfast and sat back on the sofa. ‘All right,’ he said, his expression darkening. ‘I didn’t think it mattered.’
‘Obviously it does,’ Van Bam told him. ‘So stop wasting our time.’
‘Look,’ he said, and all signs of the fop had disappeared from his manner. ‘I told you that Carrick was the only member of his team to return to Labrys Town alive, right? Well …’ He blinked several times. ‘I might’ve heard that one other treasure hunter survived the trip too.’
‘Who?’ Samuel demanded.
Taffin leant forwards again and dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘His name’s Llewellyn, a small time businessman who tried his hand at bigger things.’ His small eyes darted from one agent to the other. ‘Listen, you have to believe me – I really didn’t think it mattered. See, from what I hear, he came back in a bad way and he hasn’t got long to live.’
‘Then get on with it,’ Van Bam snapped. ‘Where can this Llewellyn be found?’
Mr Taffin rubbed his fat chin. ‘Last I heard he was holed up at the Anger Pitt. And that’s all I know, I promise you.’
It was the truth, and Van Bam nodded that fact to Samuel.
After a short pause, Samuel pointed a finger at Mr Taffin. ‘The next time you forget to mention something to the Relic Guild, we’ll seize your assets and take you to the Nightshade. Got it?’
Mr Taffin averted his eyes.
Leaving him to his humility, Van Bam and Samuel strode away and headed down the spiralling staircase.
Halfway down, Samuel turned to Van Bam and said, ‘The Anger Pitt?’ He swore. ‘That’s going to be trouble.’
Van Bam agreed. ‘We should give a report to Gideon.’ He sucked air over his teeth. ‘I think we need to call in Macy and Bryant on this one.’
Marney didn’t know how long she had been unconscious but, as the warm and gentle emotions of Denton coaxed her awake, she suspected it had only been for moments. She opened her eyes to see Denton’s round and ruddy face smiling down at her. As cheerful as ever, he helped her into a sitting position and she rubbed her eyes, feeling as though she could quite ha
ppily sleep for the rest of the day.
‘I can’t believe I fainted,’ she said groggily.
Denton chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t let it bother you. When I first brought Samuel to this realm, he was light-headed for the entire visit. But don’t tell him I told you.’ He winked.
Marney rubbed her eyes again. ‘I take it we reached the right place?’
‘Oh yes. Are you feeling strong?’
Marney nodded, and Denton helped her to her feet.
They had arrived at a cave of some kind, dull and featureless and oddly unnatural in its domed formation. The stone of the walls, floor and ceiling was dark grey, smooth and polished almost to a metallic sheen. There was a little light shining in from the cave mouth, and it seemed to shift though varying shades and soft hues. On the back wall was a wooden door, which led to the Nothing of Far and Deep and the pathway that cut through it all the way back to the Labyrinth. There was something comforting about the door’s innocuous appearance, as though it stood as reassurance that home was never far away.
‘Come on,’ said Denton. He seemed eager as he took Marney’s arm and steered her towards the cave mouth. ‘There’s something I want you to see.’
Reaching the edge of the cave, Marney’s ears were filled with a deep rumbling, and her breath caught.
‘Don’t block your emotions to this, Marney,’ Denton said. ‘Revel in what you see. Experience the moment.’
A little way ahead, a wide bridge arced over a mighty chasm. From above, falls of shimmering green water cascaded down into the depths from a high cliff wall that swept around in a great semi-circle. The air was misted with rainbow colours that glinted like jewels, and the roar of the falls was constant and powerful. In the near distance, where the bridge ended, a grand tower could be seen. Sleek and dark grey, it seemed to rise up from the chasm, reaching almost as high as the cliff top, and was capped by a dome of moonlight silver.
‘The Tower of the Skywatcher,’ Denton told her. He held his hat in his hands as if in a show of respect. ‘Tell me how you feel, Marney?’
‘Strange,’ Marney replied in a small voice. She struggled to find the right words. ‘I-I …’
‘Exactly,’ Denton whispered. ‘You don’t see this kind of splendour in Labrys Town, do you?’
Taking her mentor’s advice, Marney didn’t try to block her emotions. She raised her hands to her mouth and laughed with the joy and wonder that filled her. So many times she had dreamed of what the realms outside the Labyrinth might look like, but no dream could ever compare to what she now saw.
She looked up. The cloud covering was luminous, brighter than Ruby Moon, but less so than the sun. The soft texture drifted like smoke, with colours shifting subtly through shades of purple and green, hues of red and gold, and more besides. Marney could see the deep darkness beyond the clouds, and the stars shining in a sky she most definitely did not recognise.
‘A man could live to reach an exceptionally old age here, Marney. Time passes much slower in the realm of the Skywatcher than it does in the Labyrinth.’ He patted his hat down onto his head. ‘But there are no such luxuries for us, I’m afraid. We have work to do.’
At a brisk pace, he led Marney from the cave down to the bridge, which seemed to have little craftsmanship – it was just a smooth and polished path of dark grey stone that had no walls or guardrails. It was easily wide enough to safely walk two abreast, but Marney lagged behind Denton, marvelling at her surroundings. The rainbow-coloured mist didn’t feel damp on her face, but caused a light and curious tingling sensation as if it was cleansing her skin. Her gaze travelled the full height of the emerald falls that enclosed the chasm in a semi-circle, and she wondered what kind of land might lie beyond the roaring waters.
Looking back over her shoulder, Marney was surprised to see the cave they had emerged from was set low in a great mountain even taller than the cliff wall. Just like the cave’s interior, it appeared unnaturally smooth and metallic, and its peak disappeared into the shifting colours of the lazy clouds.
‘Watch where you’re walking, Marney,’ Denton called above the noise of the falls. The old empath had stopped to peer over the edge of the bridge. ‘No one knows how deep this chasm is, so it might be wise not to fall in.’
He grinned as Marney caught up with him. They continued on across the bridge, side by side, and he put an arm around her shoulders.
‘Lady Amilee’s function is now more pertinent than it has ever been,’ he told her. ‘Her duty is to monitor the Great Labyrinth. In many ways, she is our patron. More so than any other Thaumaturgist, she watches over the denizens, and has done so since the Labyrinth’s creation.
‘Spiral and the Genii might not be able to reach us through the Timewatcher’s barrier, but it is Lady Amilee who guards the doorways to the Labyrinth, ensuring that Spiral’s Aelfirian armies cannot invade us.’
‘She guards all the doorways?’
‘Every single one. And only she could have arranged our safe passage here today.’
Marney was suitably impressed.
Denton surveyed the tower ahead. ‘It’s disturbing enough that Carrick and his team of treasure hunters somehow managed to leave and re-enter the Labyrinth, but to do so without Lady Amilee noticing? It won’t sit well with her, Marney. It won’t sit well with her at all …’
He drew Marney to a halt and gripped her shoulders so they stood face-to-face on the bridge. ‘You must remember – Lady Amilee is always a creature of higher magic. She can appear aloof, arrogant – hostile even – but it is not our place to question the ways of a Thaumaturgist. This won’t be like a meeting of the Relic Guild at the Nightshade. When you meet Lady Amilee, your opinions might mean little to her – and that’s if she decides to let you speak at all – but it’s important that you don’t take offence. Understand?’
Marney nodded, wondering what in the realms she was heading toward.
‘But then again,’ Denton said, his grin returning, ‘you might just find the Skywatcher in benevolent mood. I certainly hope so.’
Denton set off across the bridge again. Marney had to block out her nervousness as it rose, once more cutting through the awe she felt at her surroundings.
As far as she knew, she was the only one in the Relic Guild who had never met a Thaumaturgist; and, for whatever reason, her fellow agents had never been forthcoming about their experiences. This included Van Bam. Marney wondered if her lover had been to this realm, too, and met Lady Amilee, the patron of the denizens.
The pair reached the crest of the bridge and walked down the other side. Marney could see now that the Tower of the Skywatcher didn’t rise from the depths of the chasm as she first supposed; its base, easily as wide and square as the Nightshade, was built upon a huge stone platform that grew from the end of the bridge like a gigantic disc shrouded in mist. She followed Denton onto the platform, and they headed towards the tower. With every step she took it seemed to grow taller; the more the mist thinned, the more she could see its looming surface glinting wetly under the light of the luminous clouds.
As the empaths approached the tower, a set of tall double doors swung outwards and a man emerged, seeming small between the two automaton sentries flanking him. The three figures strode out onto the platform, and, as they neared, Denton drew Marney to a halt.
Say nothing for the time being, he thought to her. Let me do any talking.
Absolutely, Marney replied nervously.
The automatons closed in, their silver faces featureless, their internal mechanisms exposed and intricate. Once they were within a few paces of the visitors they stood statuesque, and the man stepped before them.
His face was thin, his body limber. He was well groomed and clean. The fine cut of his suit indicated he was some kind of aide. His pointed ears identified him as an Aelf, as did his oddly triangular face and hazel eyes so much larger than any human’s.
‘The Lady Amilee welcomes you to her tower,’ he said, but his tone and expression conveyed only disdain.
What’s his problem? Marney thought to Denton.
The old empath didn’t reply and, without regard for the automatons, he stepped forwards with his usual charm and humbleness, even though he stood at least a head and shoulders taller than the Aelf.
‘I appreciate the irregularity of our presence in these times,’ he said, smoothly and respectfully. ‘But there is a matter on which the Skywatcher’s guidance is urgently needed.’
From the deep pocket of his coat, Denton produced the small terracotta jar they had found at Chaney’s Den. ‘Her Ladyship will be most interested in this,’ he said, holding it out to the aide.
Without response, the aide clicked his fingers and pointed at the jar. One of the automatons stepped forward. With surprisingly fluid and gentle motions, its big metal hands took the artefact from Denton. The aide then nodded towards the lofty tower. With clanging footsteps the automaton carried off the jar and disappeared through the tower doors.
The Aelf’s expression was almost disgusted as he looked Marney up and down. Marney felt a flush of anger, but, as Denton had requested, she kept her silence.
‘Lady Amilee is expecting you.’ The aide sniffed and turned on his heel. ‘Come with me,’ he said, heading back towards the tower.
The remaining automaton moved behind Denton and Marney, encouraging them to follow the Aelf.
The heavy doors boomed shut behind them, cutting the roar of the falls dead. The silence was total. To Marney’s surprise, the inside of the tower was hollow like a grand but plain hall. There was a ceiling high above, barely discernible in the dim light from glow lamps in sconces on the deep grey walls. Between the sconces, many alcoves at exactly the same distance apart were set into the walls. Inside each stood another automaton, motionless and inactive. There must have been at least fifty of them, Marney thought.
Lady Amilee’s personal guard, Denton explained. Even Spiral would think twice about attacking this place.