‘Hours? What the hell is going on?’ Urtica demanded. Fulcrom felt lucky: the Emperor’s tone with him had been remarkably mild. To this officer, it was filled with venom.
‘It seems that a significant number of citizens have armed themselves with weapons. What’s more, I suspect there’re relics in use.’
‘How many is a significant number?’
‘About four thousand, give or take, my Emperor.’
Urtica sighed, and glanced down at the maps before him, his fingers slowly scrunching up the corner. He suddenly stood and walked over to the soldier. With the pathetic effort typical of someone not trained in combat, Urtica struck his face with the back of his hand. The soldier showed only surprise; he lowered his head and muttered his apologies for delivering the news to Urtica. A silence lingered.
‘So, how many military personnel are there now?’ Fulcrom enquired of the soldier. ‘All ranks. Three thousand?’
‘Two and a half,’ he replied, cautiously eyeing the Emperor. ‘Skilled fighters, mind — not like those Cavesiders.’
Fulcrom nodded. ‘Sounds like it’ll be in hand then.’
Urtica began to walk away, the tension began to drop, but before he sat down he snapped, ‘I want a report every hour, on the hour, is that clear?’
‘Yes, my Emperor, of course.’
‘Get out.’ Urtica sat down then peered at Fulcrom, more tired than before, more desperate. ‘Return to your post, investigator, and await further instructions.’
Fulcrom stood, but dared the Emperor’s wrath one more time. ‘And Lan?’
‘We’ll decommission… her. I’ll send notice soon for her powers to be extracted.’
*
Fulcrom stomped back to his office, nearly starting fights at each guard station. He didn’t have the time to deal with pedantic idiots any more.
Insane. That’s what he was — an unhinged individual. How that man can lead this city — let alone an Empire — is beyond me.
How could the Emperor be such a fucking fool? Lan was immensely valuable to the city. She was — and had always been — a woman. It was as simple as that. Why should she have to suffer because of everyone else’s small-mindedness?
After he arrived back at the Inquisition headquarters, settled back at his desk, he looked at the walls and desperately tried to form some kind of strategy.
Warkur opened the door then knocked on it gently.
‘You got the stare, Fulcrom,’ he said.
‘Sir?’
‘The stare. Seeking that distant place, wishing you were anywhere but where you are right now. Be fucked if I don’t know that well enough myself. Can I sit?’
‘Sure,’ Fulcrom grunted, indicating the chair opposite his desk. He lit another lantern to brighten the room.
‘What’s eating you, Fulcrom?’ Warkur asked with a thunderous sigh as he slumped in the chair.
Since when have you cared? Fulcrom thought. ‘A few concerns.’
‘How did it go with Urtica?’
Fulcrom explained the situation with the Knights, and his meeting with the Emperor, and his thoughts about how to move from here.
Warkur listened in unusual silence, offering no pearls of wisdom, no sarcasm — not even when Fulcrom mentioned that the Emperor reeked of drugs. Something’s wrong with you as well, Fulcrom thought.
‘These, uh, Knights of yours,’ Warkur started. ‘So the Emperor is fine for Tane and Vuldon to continue as normal?’
‘More or less, yeah.’
‘And the other?’
‘I’d rather not dwell on that, sir.’
‘You see, that’s a little tricky, Fulcrom. Some of the fellows in here have registered a complaint about your relationship with this Knight.’
‘She has a name, sir. It’s Lan.’
Warkur’s face betrayed his discomfort. ‘I, uh, yeah… You’re a good investigator, Fulcrom. One of the best lads here. You’re young, what fifty-odd? You’ve got a big career ahead of you, well over a century of good investigative work. Don’t piss that away because of some woman.’
Fulcrom stifled an incredulous laugh. ‘Misogyny aside, sir, I take it that you have a problem with my relationship with Lan? Perhaps it’s not so much my relationship — your problem lies with Lan herself.’
‘Not me personally, you understand,’ Warkur replied, breathing deeply.
‘Then who?’
‘It’s… well, the others say she’s just not natural, and if I’m honest, there are some people here who have — there’s no easy way to put this — raised speculation over your sexuality because of this. That this Lan figure is some kind of he-she, well — you know the laws of the city as well as I do, Fulcrom. You don’t want to face the executioner on those city walls, so come on, have a think, yeah? It just can’t be permitted if you want to stay in this role. Relationships, they come and go — trust me, I know about them.’
‘With respect, sir, you know nothing about relationships,’ Fulcrom replied, glaring at his senior officer.
‘No, I guess I don’t.’ Warkur stood to leave, his mannerisms full of uncertainty. He inched towards the door. ‘Fulcrom, don’t be foolish — just think about it, yeah?’
‘Let me get this clear: you’re threatening me with dismissal, because of my relationship with Lan, and what you don’t like about her is that she does not fit into your neat little view of the world?’
‘It isn’t like that, and you know it. It’s about perception, it’s about the law.’
‘The law’, Fulcrom growled, ‘says nothing about a situation like this.’
‘They’re saying once you’re a man, you’re always a man no matter what cultists say. That means you’ll be drawn into this. Get out of it while you can.’
‘You’re right — I’ll get out of it,’ Fulcrom said, sliding back his chair. He rummaged around his neck to unhook his medallion and sent it clattering across the floor by Warkur’s feet.
‘What’re you doing, Fulcrom? Don’t be a fool.’
Fulcrom gathered his cloak and bundled a few items in a satchel while Warkur assaulted him with trite reasons as to why he should reconsider this move.
‘You’ll regret it,’ Warkur concluded.
‘No,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘All I’ll ever regret is working with people I no longer have faith in. It’s been a pleasure, sir.’
Fulcrom offered his hand, but Warkur merely gave him another world-weary look. ‘Fulcrom, you’re our best investigator.’
‘Will you get the others to reconsider their views? As my superior, will you help to find clarity in our legal system?’
‘Those things can take years…’
‘Will you?’
Warkur sighed and shook his head. ‘The others, they’ve dug up old Jorsalir texts about the souls of men and women… I don’t think it could ever happen.’ He stared at the floor, and Fulcrom pushed past him, through the old, dusty hallway, past the offices of the other investigators and past the receptionist, Ghale, who was staring dreamily over her desk at some other rumel, and he headed right out of the door, past the guards and down the steps into the snow, where he wondered just what the hell he was going to do.
THIRTY-TWO
Tired and relieved, Lan strolled back with Ulryk out of the library, down the main steps and into the beautiful courtyard. It was daylight, though she didn’t know which day it was, and the snow had just ceased, leaving a light dusting that had yet to be absorbed into the warmth of the buildings, be cleared by cultists or trodden into mush.
Ulryk hugged his books in his satchel while Lan was watchful, concerned for his protection. It wasn’t long until someone called out to her, the words echoing around the stone. ‘Hey, Lan! You’re Lan, one of those Knights, right?’
‘Yes!’ she shouted back, trying to find the person speaking.
‘You fucking freak, man-woman!’ the voice called. ‘We know about you now. We’ve seen the truth. You’re disgusting.’
Like a bolt through the heart.
Her world ready to implode, Lan spun round to see three middle-aged men in thick coats, one of whom was shaking daggers from his sleeves.