Level after level, the streets were becoming deeper with snow, as if the cultists couldn’t keep up. Morning traders were fewer each day, and the irens were hollow experiences now. There was less to sell, but there were increasing numbers of bric-a-brac stalls, or more innovative traders who restyled the waste and accoutrements of the city into more appealing delights: swords melted down into cutlery or metal and glass sculptures.
His mare took her time, the poor thing, trudging up the hazardous cobbled roads, the cold air whistling around them both. He left her at a guard station on the fifth level, where only registered horses were permitted — which was news to him, but he wasn’t going to argue with the military. At each guard station, at least three men searched him thoroughly, despite his Inquisition medallion. They asked him questions and were sceptical even when he showed the papers for his appointment.
‘This level of security is ridiculous,’ he said to one of the guards.
‘Sorry, chap — captain’s orders. Every few days we add to the list of questions. Just the way of things.’
Fulcrom eventually plodded on by foot, up the gently sloped road that led to Balmacara, wary of what he would say to the Emperor.
*
The Emperor peered back at Fulcrom as he finished his explanation of what had happened: of the printing press being stolen from the Inquisition headquarters, of being betrayed by Feror, whose family had been taken as hostages. Fulcrom could see in his eyes that he was a tired man — redness and dark rings around his eyes indicated a lack of sleep, his bitten nails seemed to suggest it might be down to stress. What’s more, Fulcrom could smell the musky odour of arum weed on the man, and his breath stank of some disgusting alcoholic beverage.
If Urtica was using substances, Fulcrom expected some backlash, an outburst perhaps, and given what Fulcrom had seen himself of the Emperor’s decision-making — for instance, the attempted slaughter of refugees — there was no one in this city Fulcrom feared more. But the Emperor merely acknowledged his acceptance of what Fulcrom was telling him, now and then gazing out of the vast, diamond-shaped window across the spires of the city.
‘But,’ Fulcrom continued, ‘we have captured a member we’re sure is close to the key figures of the movement in the caves, and I hope to have the names of those involved very soon.’
‘Yes…’ Urtica muttered.
Fulcrom paused and looked nervously at the man sat across from him. ‘My Emperor — forgive my asking, but is everything all right?’
‘I have’, he sighed, ‘been better.’ Then he slid his chair back, which was no small effort for him, and from a drawer to one side he retrieved a map and a handful of pebbles. As he unfolded it before Fulcrom, the Boreal Archipelago, creased and under a grid, was presented.
‘We have reports from garudas,’ Urtica started, ‘of the war in Villiren, and of the invasion force attacking from Tineag’l. This is common knowledge.’ Urtica placed a pebble in the island of Y’iren, where Villiren stood.
‘Is the combat going well? I see the occasional article in People’s Observer…’
‘That news outlet aside, I believe we are on course for victory,’ the Emperor replied, with a momentary glimpse of enthusiasm. ‘Now, however, there have been reports of incidents here, here and here.’
He placed a pebble in three locations, on various islands, each one closer to Jokull. It was only then that Fulcrom realized the Emperor’s hands were shaking.
‘Incidents, my Emperor?’
‘Massacres, of varying degrees. The first was the remnants of the Order of the Dawnir.’
‘The Dawnir?’ Fulcrom asked, surprised. ‘Does that include the famous Papus?’
‘Indeed. She had been dispatched to track down a rogue cultist. It was a minor affair, and between us both, ridding this city of two major cultists was no bad thing.’
Sly, Fulcrom thought. Thus allowing you more influence over the rest of them… ‘How was such a… legendary order wiped out?’
‘Probably a clash between her order and another. The other incidents are more concerning. All of them indicate something is heading right towards our island. Possibly to Villjamur itself.’
‘Is it related to the war in Villiren?’
The Emperor shook his head. ‘None of us are certain what it is, but there has been violence in several towns. What few eye witnesses are still alive have suggested that magic has been used.’
‘Cultists, then,’ Fulcrom suggested. He couldn’t hide the allure of this mystery.
‘Whoever it is,’ Urtica concluded, ‘they are heading on a path here.’
‘And this causes you concern?’
‘Nearly a thousand people have died at the hands of this… this thing, this cultist. Do you have any idea what such a presence could mean for this city?’
And that’s why you’re not that concerned about the Knights being exposed, Fulcrom thought. ‘My Emperor, I wonder if the Knights would be in a position to offer some resistance to this threat.’
‘The Knights… but aren’t the people turning against them?’
‘We’ve had just one minor incident, but it’s too early to tell.’
‘I’ve had nearly a hundred of the most influential citizens in the city register their disgust at the Knights.’
‘They can’t help their own pasts, my Emperor. Part of why they were chosen was because of those pasts. This is the reason they were created.’
‘They were created to protect the citizens of the city, investigator, no more, no less. Their secrets were their security to us. If the people fear them for being monsters of whatever kind, then they are of no practical value. Feror, of course, we will execute for his betrayal.’
‘But his family-’
‘We must stay strong, investigator, until the very end. Feror will be used as a warning to others, and a symbol to the anarchists that we will not tolerate their ways.’
Fulcrom clenched his fists behind his back, and allowed the Emperor to continue. ‘My Emperor, I’m pleading with you, don’t-’
‘Don’t plead, investigator, not in my company. It isn’t decent.’ Urtica leaned forward and ran his hands through his hair. ‘Given that their secrets are out, especially Lan’s, it makes us all look like fools — particularly me. Is something wrong, investigator?’
‘No, my Emperor. However, whatever you believe Lan was before, she is now a committed member of the Villjamur Knights. I have a wonderful record that I can write up for you on the way she’s served the city.’ Fulcrom could feel his mouth becoming dry.
‘That may well be, investigator, but given the crises faced by this city, the people need to look up to the Knights. They’ve certainly cost me enough money. We can rebuild Tane’s reputation, perhaps. Vuldon’s too — a few articles in the People’s Observer can do that — but Lan… well, I have contemplated the issue in some depth and decided that it’s just not natural, is it? Already I’ve been receiving messages from councillors and various moneylenders to the Treasury, as well as the senior officials from the Jorsalir church, all expressing their concerns about what Lan is. A little slavery is OK, it seems, but I won’t gloss over her past. I rule strongly, investigator, but I need people on my side in times of a crisis.’
Fulcrom swallowed, felt hot. Don’t say anything that could get you executed.
‘Now,’ Urtica continued, ‘Lan is beyond salvation. Consider her decommissioned-’
A banging on the chamber door interrupted them. Disturbed, Urtica snapped: ‘What is it?’
A senior military official poked his head around the door sheepishly, with his helm under one arm. ‘My Emperor, I bring grave news.’
‘Out with it,’ Urtica ordered.
The officer stepped inside and took a stance as if he was on parade. ‘Combat has broken out from the caves, my Emperor.’
‘What kind of combat? Can’t your lot deal with it?’
Fulcrom noted the concerned look on the soldier’s face. ‘We believe we will have the situation controlled within a couple of hours.’