Tane was by far the keenest of the group. With much to lose, and few career options, he seemed to make the mental switch to his new life remarkably quickly, and had nothing but bright eyes and quick jokes for the cultists and officials. His reluctance to take anything seriously is probably why he made an awful investigator’s aide. Vuldon was about as happy as a storm cloud. Fulcrom had made it clear to the man that he could opt out at any point, but Vuldon continued to grumble, ‘There’s nothing else left for me, that’s why I’m here. If you can call it a choice, so be it, but this is the least shit option in life right now.’ So Fulcrom steered him away from those with hope-filled eyes, or who expected something more pithy and profound from him.
Lan was an enigmatic woman. Fulcrom watched her the most, since he wasn’t convinced of her engagement with the project. If she didn’t commit fully, she wouldn’t be much use. She was here under pressure, because of her secret — and what a secret it was. Marvelling at the talents of cultists, he found it hard to believe she had ever been a man, but forced himself to purge any prejudices from his mind.
Each of the three were taken to a room little bigger than a gaol cell, but within was a comfortable bed, surgical instruments, a changing screen, and lanterns that hung from the curved ceiling. Now they awaited the event that would change their lives.
*
Vuldon was first. His was the simplest procedure of the three, low-risk, merely a modification of the processes used to enhance the legendary Night Guard soldiers. His development was going to be a vastly enhanced musculature, fibres rebuilt, signs of ageing peeled away, giving him unmatched strength. A reconstruction of his sense of dignity, of the quality that made him the legend of the past — and what a legend it had been.
The files the Inquisition had kept on Vuldon had been studied by Fulcrom. It was estimated that, in his few years duration as the city’s hero, he had saved three hundred and twenty-three citizens from death or violence; foiled seven attacks by vicious tribes to scale the city walls; saved the then-Emperor twice; prevented a fire from ravaging Balmacara; and saved a small school from a mad-axe murderer. His value was impossible to deny.
Fulcrom asked this figure of dormant pugnacity many gentle, searching questions, seeking to bypass his reluctance to talk. Eventually, hunched on the bed in his rather effeminate white gown, his already powerful shoulders providing an intimidating bulk, Vuldon began to open up. For the first time he gave more than a handful of bitter grunts.
He spoke of the old days. He spoke about the Inquisition in particular. ‘Shouldn’t like a man who wears those colours.’
‘Few citizens do,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘I know about your past-’
‘What you know,’ Vuldon interrupted, ‘is probably the wrong side of the story. Some cleverly spun tale written down in spurious histories. A few edited documents.’
‘They were different times, back then,’ Fulcrom pleaded. ‘A different emperor, a different regime.’
‘You think this one’s any different? They’ve only ever got their own interests at heart.’
Vuldon went on to talk about his wife, a glamour girl who ended her life after things went badly for them. ‘She drank herself into her coffin after choking on her own vomit,’ Vuldon said. ‘You know what that’s like, investigator? To find the woman you love not able to cope with the fuck-ups you’ve made — or rather, the fuck-ups blamed on you?’
‘I… honestly, Vuldon. I’d love to give you some nice line here, but I can’t; but if it helps, I understand — I lost a partner, too.’
‘You responsible for her death, rumel?’
Fulcrom shook his head. ‘What I will say is that it sounds like you hold yourself responsible, which I don’t think is fair on yourself. Time can do strange things to one’s memories…’
Vuldon gave him a brooding glance, and Fulcrom respectfully lowered his eyes. Somewhere, under that hunched and rather wrecked mass, was a skilled and determined human, and Fulcrom would damn well coax it out of him.
‘So this new transformation,’ Fulcrom said, ‘do you think you’re ready to go ahead and be part of the Knights? We so desperately need your experience, Vuldon. You were the first of your kind, and you know how these things work. Here’s a chance to reclaim your former glories, to make it clear to people that the past was wrong, that the city can trust you again.’
‘There’s not a lot I can’t handle after what I’ve been through,’ Vuldon muttered, lifting his legs up onto the bed, lying down with a deep groan. The hanging lantern made a lot more of the angles of his face, and he appeared truly brutal even in this relaxed pose. ‘I’ll do what it takes. I’ve nothing else, though if we’re going to undergo such transformations, I’d prefer, where possible, to be renewed — lose the name. The Legend is exactly that, a legend, a myth. Let’s keep him that way.’
*
Fulcrom left the room, passing a stream of cultists and surgeons carrying vials and cases, in order to visit the next of the Knights.
He found Tane in repose on his bed, one arm propping up his head, a half-eaten platter of food by his chest, like some artist’s vision of an emperor. ‘Fulcrom, old boy, the food here’s quite superb. I’ve just eaten a boatload of fruit which I’ve never even heard of before, let alone seen.’
Fulcrom had to laugh. ‘I hope you’re going to take this job seriously.’
‘Absolutely.’ Tane continued his way through the platter with a wide smile at Fulcrom. He offered some to Fulcrom.
‘You don’t seem to be taking it seriously,’ Fulcrom observed, politely waving away the offer.
‘I’ve spent all my life trying to pass those exams for the Inquisition and I’ve got nowhere. Now I have been offered a rather lovely route right to the top, avoiding all that street duty nonsense and all those horrid legal texts. Do you honestly think I’ve no reason to be anything but delighted? I’ve always wanted to help people, and I can make a real difference being one of the Knights.’
‘OK, but don’t think you’re going to have it all easy. You’re going to be transformed, Tane — altered. Changed. You’ll undergo ailuranthosurgery. Do you know what that means?’
‘I was informed that it was something to do with feline-like abilities…’
‘Werecat, Tane. You’ll be merging into a semi-form of a wild animal.’
‘Tigers, someone said, yes, yes, yes. They don’t sound all that wild, if you ask me. Rather regal from the stories I’ve heard. Which of course suits me down to the ground.’
Fulcrom felt his frustrations flaring. How could the man be so casual about this? ‘But the point remains, Tane, that you’re going to be forever different. It will bring with it a whole load of new psychologies.’
‘One must allow for risks in life, Fulcrom, in order to progress. Obviously I’m a little nervous-’
A male scream echoed outside along with the sound of roaring static.
Fulcrom tilted his head. ‘That’s coming your way, I hope you know.’
Tane gaped at him. ‘Is it… going to hurt?’
‘Of course it is, you idiot. You’re probably going to ache for days afterwards, and you’re…’ Fulcrom allowed his emotions to simmer. ‘Look, just don’t make any jokes, don’t try to sweet-talk any female cultists, and for Bohr’s sake do what they tell you to do. It’s for your own good.’
*
Lan was the last of the Knights Fulcrom visited. Her transformation was the most complicated of all, and he prayed to… Well, the god Bohr seems pretty out of touch with all of these procedures, doesn’t he? Fulcrom hoped to whatever powers were involved in all of this that her body could withstand these further changes.
When he reached her, Lan was perched on the edge of her bed, staring deep into a fire burning in the grate, her arms rigid by her side.