City of Light & Shadow

by Ian Whates

  Quite spectacularly, he had to admit. His talent had never manifested so visibly before. It wasn't deliberate, he'd just been aware of an all-consuming darkness creeping into his head, like a damp, cold cloth, numbing his thoughts and pulling at his very being, as if trying to loosen it and winkle his spirit from his body. Light had been an instinctive response, to counter the dark. Maybe he could work on that, though; he kind of liked the effect.

  As for Kat… who did she think she was? The frissing monster was dead. What did it matter who'd done the killing? If anything she should be thanking him, not cursing and beating him about the head. Still, he didn't suppose Kat would ever make the first move to apologise; no, that would be up to him no doubt. With a sigh, Tom went to follow her, to explain, but he was stopped by a restraining hand on his arm.

  "Don't," Mildra said, her gentle face showing sympathy, concern. "Not yet. Give her a few moments to collect herself. She isn't in the mood to listen to reason right now."

  Tom drew a ragged breath and nodded. Mildra was doubtless right, as usual. He'd wait. So all that followed Kat was his gaze.

  Kat walked away from everyone, suddenly desperate for some space. Ox groaned loudly from behind her and that almost gave her pause, but she breathed deeply and kept going. Why was she being so stupid? The Soul Thief was finally dead. Her mother, her sister, every single person that monstrosity had ever consumed, could finally rest in peace. If someone had brought her that news at any other time she would have rejoiced. So why did she feel so angry now, so cheated?

  It wasn't Tom's fault, she knew that. Beating up on him wasn't going to achieve anything – and where the breck had he and Mildra appeared from in any case? She glanced back, to catch Tom staring at her. He looked away quickly as their eyes met. Beside him, Mildra was already busy, tending to Ox and Petter, the other Tattooed Man M'gruth's overzealousness had injured. A cluster of tattooed figures stood around her as she worked. Kat hoped to Thaiss both the injured men were going to be all right. She'd lost enough friends of late and had precious few left to spare. Besides, M'gruth would be inconsolable if either of them died, and he was one of her best lieutenants. She was going to need him to be sharp and confident in the days ahead, not distracted and questioning his own competence. She remembered Shayna's prophetic words and hoped she wouldn't end up regretting that particular decision. The Thaistess had better be up to the task.

  Her gaze took in the rest of the group: the Kite Guards, now all firmly on the ground and seeing to their own fallen comrade, the arkademic in her pale blue robes standing close to Tylus, the Blade statue-still in the background…

  Sudden realisation gripped her. No, she shouldn't blame Tom, not when there was someone else more deserving. Where were the Blade? She set off, jaw set, temper barely in check. It had all been about her, Ox, and M'gruth; fighting the Soul Thief had been left entirely to the Tattooed Men. Where were the brecking Blade? Had they just stood by and watched? Had they deliberately done so in the hope that the Tattooed Men would perish or at least take a severe pounding? What were their orders? She was itching for a scrap, sick of people playing games with her life.

  "Hey!" she yelled, striding towards the Blade.

  The arkademic stepped across. If not exactly blocking her path, Isar certainly made sure she was in direct line of sight. "What's the matter, Kat?"

  "Out of the way, Isar," Kat told her. I don't have a problem with you, just with those walking pieces of coal over there."

  "Perhaps I can mediate," Isar said. "The Blade rarely speak."

  "Rarely fight much either, far as I can see," Kat snapped. Standing beside the arkademic, Tylus looked uncomfortable. Perhaps even a little embarrassed. Clearly he had no intention of getting involved in this if he could help it.

  "Ah, I see," the arkademic said. "You're upset because the Blade didn't get involved in the battle with the Soul Thief."

  "Upset? Two of my men nearly died just now, still may do, while the mighty Blade just stood around and watched. Of course I'm upset!"

  "They stayed their hand out of respect for you," Isar said calmly.

  "Respect? What the breck are you talking about, respect?"

  "When the other creature with the metallic legs and sting attacked us from beneath the ground, you didn't want the Blade to interfere but were determined to handle it yourselves. They assumed the same applied here and that you would call on them if you wanted their help."

  Kat paused, realising the arkademic might have a point, but that didn't stop her for long. "If I didn't want them to help I wouldn't have included them as part of the attack plan."

  "They assumed you wanted them there for containment, to prevent the monster escaping."

  Kat scowled, not sure whether to believe Isar or not, but the woman's calm arguments had succeeded in taking the edge off her temper. Even so, the whole thing smacked of justification to her, of making excuses after the event. She glared towards the row of towering figures standing impassively behind the arkademic and raised her voice to ensure they didn't miss her words. "Yeah, well next time we're getting our collective asses kicked by a monster straight from hell, tell them to feel free to pitch in anytime they want."

  "They realise their mistake and will not remain uninvolved again."

  Kat suspected that this was the closest to an apology she was likely to get. Brecking cloud scrapers.

  She turned away, rudely perhaps; rudely she hoped. Now she supposed it was time to patch things up with Tom, since clearly he didn't intend doing so. She looked across to where he stood, his back turned towards her as he talked to M'gruth of all people. Kat wasn't big on apologising, never had been. Best thing to do in this instance, she reckoned, was to be all friendly, make it clear everything was all right between them by acting as if nothing had ever happened.

  Tom couldn't hang around. No matter what was going on here and how important it might be, his mission had to come first. One of the Tattooed Men he vaguely recognised, M'gruth, had been filling him in on what was happening down here, but it wasn't really his concern; reaching the Prime Master with the core cylinder was. He looked across to where Mildra crouched over the fallen form of another Tattooed Man – the biggest and meanest looking specimen Tom had ever seen. The man was conscious, grumbling about the pain in a good natured way while the Thaistess worked. Mildra looked up and for a moment her gaze locked with Tom's, then she gave a slight smile and a shallow nod, indicating the wounded man before her. She understood, knew that he had to go, but that look told him that she wouldn't be coming with him. The realisation came as a shock, though hardly a surprise. Here in the Stain a healer was badly needed, and it was typical of Mildra that she'd choose to stay where her talent and training could be of the most use, putting the needs of others ahead of whatever she might want. It meant a parting of the ways, and after all they'd been through together that saddened him. Memories of her caring smile, of her easing away the aches in his muscles after a hard day of walking, of her naked skin beneath his hands in the meadow of flowers chased each other through Tom's mind as he returned her smile. No point in making promises; these were uncertain times, but he resolved to seek her out once this was all over, assuming they both survived. Even if he did, though, he doubted the closeness they'd shared during the long journey together could ever be recaptured now that they were back in the real world of Thaiburley and all that entailed.

  For the moment, none of that mattered, it couldn't matter. Tom had to find the Prime Master. He focused on the man's familiar face. The details came more easily this time, and he was determined not to be distracted again. He felt the rushing sensation that heralded transport.

  "Hey, kid," Kat said, grasping his arm, presumably to get his attention, speaking for all the world as if she hadn't been trying to pummel him into the ground just a few moments before. "Where exactly did you…"

  They jumped and were suddenly somewhere else.

  "…pop up from?"

  "What did you do that for?" he snapped,
angry with her for distracting him despite all his good intentions.

  "Do what? I didn't do anything."

  "Yes you did. You grabbed hold of my arm."

  "Well pardon me, your holiness. I didn't realise you'd become so precious these days that no one's allowed to even touch you."

  Somebody cleared their throat. Kat's eyes widened as she evidently took in their surroundings for the first time. "Where the breck are we?"

  They were in a small room, dominated by a plain oblong table around which were clustered an interesting assortment of individuals: a Jeradine who might or might not have been Ty-gen – Tom never had learnt to tell one from another – plus five elderly men and three women, all bar one of whom were looking at him and Kat in obvious astonishment, presumably due to their untimely arrival. The exception being the Prime Master, who smiled at them as if people materialising in front of his eyes was something that happened every day and the most natural thing in the world.

  "Ah, Tom," the Prime Master said. "Glad you could join us."

  SIX

  Everyone agreed that time was of the essence. Tom was anxious to get going and the Prime Master kept insisting that he was at least as anxious as Tom. So why were they still standing around discussing things?

  It turned out that he and Kat had materialised in the middle of an emergency session of the city's Council. He got the impression that this very functional neutrallyappointed room wasn't their usual meeting place but a location dictated by circumstances. Tom had never met the other members of Thaiburley's ruling body before – apart from his namesake, Thomas, the newest of their number – and he studied those present with interest. There was the Jeradine, who did indeed prove to be Ty-gen, an arkademic – distinguished by her customary powder blue robes – and six other members of the Council beside the Prime Master. Evidently Thomas was busy elsewhere and the other four members of Thaiburley's ruling twelve remained unaccounted for. The uncomfortable glances that passed among those present at mention of this told Tom all he needed to know regarding their suspected fate.

  The arkademic was introduced as Assembly Member Birhoff and she had apparently been the first person to encounter the Rust Warriors, or the first to survive at any rate. Tom didn't pay much attention to her initially, but she seemed to pay plenty to him. The intensity with which she studied him made him squirm. She might have been the youngest of the group but that wasn't saying much and to Tom she still looked old. He tried to get away from her as quickly as possible. He wasn't certain whether there was anything lustful in her gaze or not, but either way it struck him as predatory and he wasn't buying her false smiles for a second, let alone her friendly overtures.

  Tom had sensed something odd since his arrival, and finally he realised what it was. The prevailing atmosphere in this room, which contained more of the great and the powerful of Thaiburley than he had ever encountered before, was one of fear. These men and women, so used to resolving issues with a flex of talent or the stroke of a pen, were suddenly confronted with a problem they had no answer to. Their dismay was almost palpable, as they contemplated the very real prospect of losing control, a control which they had taken for granted all their lives.

  Evidently the spiky mood Kat had demonstrated when Tom first appeared in the Stain hadn't entirely gone after all. This time it was the Jeradine who felt the sharp edge of her tongue. "Ty-gen?" she exclaimed. "What in Thaiss's name are you doing here?"

  "Hello, Kat," said the familiar, inflexion-free voice. "It is good to see you too."

  "You can forget all that 'good to see you' oxshit, I want to know what's going on. I was your contact for selling khybul figures to the City Above, remember? You said you needed me because you didn't know anyone up-City, and now I find you cosying up with the brecking Council?"

  The Jeradine seemed completely nonplussed, and it was the Prime Master who stepped in to respond. "The Jeradine are an ancient race who have been a part of this city since its founding," he said. "Ty-gen is here at my invitation because the current emergency threatens all of us, and it was felt that his people's knowledge and wisdom might be of value."

  Tom could only admire the Prime Master's skill at diplomacy. Here he was, the single most powerful person in a city of tens of millions, yet he still had the time and patience to explain himself to Kat, a mere street-nick. And this wasn't just because of the situation, it was simply how the Prime Master was, who he was. Tom felt pretty certain that had he been in the Prime Master's position just then, with the responsibility of a city in crisis resting on his shoulders, he'd have summoned the guards and had this irritating girl clapped in irons, or gagged at the very least.

  "Look, this has been fun and everything," Kat then said, "but I have to get back to my men." Ty-gen and his perceived duplicity had evidently been dismissed from her thoughts in an instant. "When I left, two of them were badly injured, maybe dying. All of them are stuck in the middle of the Stain and their leader's just vanished into thin air. Thaiss only knows what's going on back there."

  "You can't…" Tom began, then he saw Kat bridle and decided on a different approach. "I mean I can't; take you back that is, not right now at any rate."

  "You'd better be able to."

  He shook his head. "This is too important. There isn't time. The fate of the whole city…"

  "…can go to hell in a body boys' cart for all I care. My people, my tribe, they're what matters. The rest of you feel free to look out for the city all you want, but, in the meantime, take me back to the Stain!"

  "Your people, Kat, are a part of this city just as much as Ty-gen's," the Prime Master interrupted, speaking gently, soothingly. "I know it hasn't always seemed that way," he added quickly, holding up a restraining hand as she went to comment. "I can't begin to express my regret at what you all suffered in the Pits. Thaiburley is vast and at any given moment there are myriad demands on our attention. Reacting to everything that goes on in a timely manner isn't always easy. We do our best." There were nods of agreement from the other Masters. "But we're human, and we make mistakes. The Pits was an abomination that should never have been allowed to exist for as long as it did. We closed the place down in the end but we were far too slow. I know that; we all do. It's a failing that still weighs heavily on each and every one of us." This elicited more nods and even an mmm of agreement.

  "The fact remains that the Tattooed Men are a part of Thaiburley, and the threat that now faces us imperils the future of the entire city, from the Heights all the way to the City Below. If Tom has returned from wherever he's been with a way to combat this threat, then we need to hear what he has to say without delay."

  Kat harrumphed but seemed to accept the situation with a good grace that surprised Tom. In the past he had felt the full weight of the Voice of Command, the strength of compulsion that arkademics could muster when they needed to, and Kat's acquiescence had him wondering fleetingly if there were other Voices they could call upon, perhaps a Voice of Reason.

  Tom realised with a start that all eyes had turned to him. They were all waiting for him to explain himself. So he told them. He didn't dwell on the journey to the citadel and the trials they'd faced – the death of Kohn and the loss of Dewar – instead concentrating on the discovery of the ice citadel, the meeting with Thaiss and what he had learnt, explaining about the goddess's brother and the subverted core, the missed renewal and the cleansing that the city's heart required, why this was so urgent and so vital. Finally he came to the container strapped to his back and its precious contents. Tom spoke as quickly and concisely as he could, covering everything in a handful of minutes. Throughout, he stared directly at the Prime Master, not wanting to be distracted by the reactions of these people he didn't know, nor even Kat's.

  His words were met with complete silence, which lingered on for a few seconds after he'd concluded. For once, even Kat had nothing to say. At length, the Prime Master – who had surprised Tom by remaining seated since their arrival, not even standing up to greet him – shoo
k his head. "So much has been lost to us," he said, smiling at Tom. "Thank you, on behalf of those of us here and, indeed, the whole city, for all that you've achieved. We have no right to ask any more of you, but I'm afraid we must, and I fear that the worst may still lie ahead of you."

  Tom nodded, reckoning the gesture to be as eloquent as any words he might have come up with. He'd already accepted that this wasn't the end of things, that reporting to the Prime Master was no more than a stepping stone on the journey he found himself on, but he was counting on his mentor for some wise counsel at the very least.

  "Can we see it?" Assembly Member Birhoff – "call me Carla" – said.

  Tom hesitated. He glanced at the Prime Master, who shrugged to indicate that he had no objection. Seeing no reason to deny the request, Tom wriggled out of his rucksack, opened it up and withdrew the cylinder entrusted to him by the goddess. The leather felt warm to the touch and he imagined he could feel the core material it contained throbbing, though that may have been no more than his fancy.