Fulcrom watched as the figures on the shore waved to them. ‘Once you get this book — what are you going to do with it?’
Ulryk remained silent. The stone raft drifted closer to the shoreline and a few of the white glows took their human and rumel forms more clearly. They stood in groups of two or three, gazing as the raft came in. The dreary, dreamlike silhouette of a broken city lay behind them — the rising towers in decay, half crumbling, if not already a wreck; walls with notable damage; black, windowless frames. Before the city, running down to the water’s edge, was a dark pebble beach.
‘My quest,’ Ulryk finally replied, ‘is simply to use the book to return its author to his world.’
‘This Frater Mercury guy?’
‘You have a fine memory, investigator. It does you credit.’
‘And just what is Frater Mercury going to do when he is back? Do you even know if he’s anything more than a myth? I get the impression a lot of this is based on faith.’
‘Much of all we do is based on faith, investigator. I have been.. conversing with him. Through various methods and rituals. Through dimensions. He is quite real. His world is spilling through into ours, and you know already of the genocides and wars in the north. Here is evidence.’
‘That’s not evidence of him, though.’
‘I have seen what I need to. Not everything can be proven. We need faith in the things we cannot see.’
Fulcrom was stunned. How could anyone communicate through dimensions? Then he realized by his questioning he actually believed everything that Ulryk was saying. Just because you’ve seen the dead doesn’t mean all he says is true.
They sailed to the shoreline, where a white figure — with a much gentler glow up close — helped them up.
‘Back so soon, eh, Ulryk?’ he called out, much to Fulcrom’s surprise, in a traditional dialect. The man was bald, tall, muscular, wearing ancient fashions, high collared shirts and a knee-length tunic. His nose and chin were thin and long, giving him an almost bird-like appearance, and his skin was dark like dusk — no, only the right side of his face, because the other was pale, and no matter how hard Fulcrom looked, he could not see the bisecting line down his face. ‘Brought a friend this time, I see.’
‘This is Investigator Fulcrom,’ Ulryk said, climbing off the raft.
‘Oh, aye. We’ve some Inquisition members here who still fancy themselves in charge of law and order. Not that there’s much point, heh. Anyway. Welcome, sir. My name is Aker.’ The old ghost offered a hand, and Fulcrom, pushing himself upright, didn’t know whether or not to take it, whether he would grip onto nothing. He did take it, in the end — and the grip was quite real. A moment later and two huge waist-high cats padded down across the stones to Aker’s side and, when seated, eyed Fulcrom suspiciously.
‘Don’t mind these two,’ Aker said. ‘They just ain’t too fond of the living. Sets ’em off.’
And I’m not too fond of the dead, Fulcrom thought, watching one lick its paw. ‘Do you get many of the living here?’
‘No, I’ll give you that. Just Ulryk here.’
Fulcrom and Ulryk were guided further onto land where more of the figures greeted them.
‘These are all the dead,’ Ulryk whispered on approach. ‘Many followed me back to see what the world was like again. Some had unfinished business, you see, or people they wanted to see. I can only assume the rest here didn’t want to leave.’
The dead appeared much like the living, but wore the wounds that had finally killed them. They also possessed an ethereal shine, similar to the one that Adena had possessed. Clothing spanned history, and Fulcrom noticed various costumes or styles from tapestries or paintings he’d seen over the years. In groups, they came and went, seeing the spectacle of the living visit them. ‘How many are left here?’ Ulryk called to Aker, who was following with his cats weaving around behind him. Then, to Fulcrom, Ulryk whispered, ‘I think this fellow is some kind of gatekeeper.’
‘Oh, I would say around a hundred or so,’ Aker boomed. ‘People prefer to stay around for the most part. Living ain’t what it used to be. Besides, a few who tried to cross the river felt too weak — didn’t have the determination to go on, so to speak.’
‘I do not suppose you bear news on the location of the book I sought?’
‘Aye a few of the locals were thinking about this. There are old libraries down here, too, though wrecks these days. Much like the rest of the place. But nothing yet, I’m afraid. They’ll keep looking. It keeps them busy, since life can get dull round these parts.’
They passed through a massive iron gate set into dark stone walls. Huge cracks penetrated the stone, splitting it completely in places, and Fulcrom noticed how the design of the walls was much like Villjamur, as if it mirrored its style, yet had suffered from the impacts of some apocalyptic event.
Fulcrom shook his head in disbelief. The city was laid out similarly, roads banking up either side in a circular route. The buildings, tall and narrow, were leaning precariously upon each other, crumbling or ready to break. It was unnaturally warm. Two dead men were playing cards on a table in the street, one with a knife protruding from his back. There were plazas and courtyards, parks with dead trees, and the dead were everywhere. Fulcrom felt an overwhelming and unexplained sorrow, which was met with his refusal to accept what he was seeing. Nothing made sense any more, nothing at all. Were these genuinely the remains of those who had died from the surface world?
‘I’ve seen enough,’ Fulcrom said. ‘I ought to return to my duties on the surface.’
‘Ha, typical of the livin’, that,’ an old man said. ‘Always concerned with duties and jobs. Try enjoying life a bit while you still got it, yeah?’
‘I enjoy my job,’ Fulcrom muttered. ‘I make a difference.’ There was more defensiveness in this final statement then he would have liked. Then to Ulryk, ‘Please… I can’t stay here. I can’t bear to look.’
Ulryk placed a hand on each arm as if he was going to shake Fulcrom. ‘You wanted explanations, investigator. And I wanted you to believe. I will need your help, most definitely in the coming days. I know a man of logic when I see him — and you needed convincing. This, I feel, has helped. Have faith in me and what I am doing — your world is about to change greatly.
‘I know that the church has ordered creatures into the city. When I find the other copy of The Book of Transformations, I will need to conduct rituals upon the surface. It may take me a good while to ascertain the details, and in this time I will need your protection, as much of it as you can offer. I will require your faith in me. There are few who will be able to believe in what is going on here, few who can offer such loyalty.’
‘I think’, Fulcrom whispered, ‘that you can relax. I believe in you.’
The smile on the priest’s face was tinged more with relief than happiness.
‘Though tell me,’ Fulcrom began, forcing his mind back towards logic, ‘what about the dead who have gone to the surface? They need to be returned here, don’t they?’ All the time his thoughts were on Adena, and how to rid himself of her ghost.
Aker interrupted them. ‘The thing is, any of those who have gone up need to be persuaded to come back down.’