Artemisia concluded, ‘We shall settle final tactics on the ground, then for our own operation — for which we have gained new intelligence and our cartographers have supplied us with internal maps of the Policharos. After this discussion, we may watch the first wave of conflict.’
‘What, we just sit up here and watch the war like spectators? Shouldn’t we be down on the ground, rallying the troops, boosting their confidence, giving direction?’
Artemisia translated this statement to the elders, who seemed greatly amused.
‘Our people do war on an enormous scale, Commander Lathraea. More often than not, if we are on the ground, any information we give would be too slow and ineffective. No, it is better we stay up here, and view progress through our usual means.’
Brynd did not like this at all. It was his way to be on the ground, with his own people, protecting his towns and cities from whatever forces assaulted them. It seemed an artificial warfare, conducted from a distance, as if he were one of the ancient gods.
I am no god, he thought to himself. We will fight alongside our people.
TWENTY — SEVEN
Fulcrom and Lan headed back to the Partisans’ Club in the morning. When they arrived, Fulcrom made up some excuse about having lost Lan’s necklace the night before and asked to take a look around to see if he could find it.
‘You look like decent sorts,’ the doorman said, and let them both in.
While he was there, Fulcrom planned to engage the owner in a conversation about the event with Malum. It pained Fulcrom to praise the scenes he had seen that night, to wax lyrical about what was at best small-mindedness, racism and violence. But he knew he needed more information about what Malum had devised next and this was his best — his only — lead for now.
The owner turned out to be a woman in her fifties. She looked as if she could have once been a starlet in her day, and there was still something about the way she moved, and the make-up she wore, that said she hadn’t fully left the stage alone. She had greying blonde hair, a huge smile and wide, pretty eyes. Judging by the look of her she liked her food now, and almost anticipating such thoughts she said, as they took a table by the empty stage, ‘I’m not what I used to be, you know. When you have your own cook, sometimes the temptation is too great!’
‘There’s no harm in liking a good meal,’ Fulcrom said.
‘You rumel might be able to cope, but it’s not that easy for me. Now, can I get you a drink? I’ve more than one handsome waiter around here somewhere. .’
‘No, that’s OK,’ Fulcrom laughed, ‘we shouldn’t be that long — hopefully Lan will find the necklace soon enough.’
‘She’s a pretty girl,’ the woman observed.
‘She is,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘If you want to get yourself something to eat or drink, don’t let me stop you.’
‘I don’t get enough exercise to eat and drink all the time! I used to be on that stage every night in my youth.’ She gestured with a wave to the dimly lit platform just behind.
‘You’ve some interesting shows these days,’ Fulcrom told her. ‘That one with Malum last night was different. Not your typical piece of theatre.’
‘You could put it like that. Must confess, I don’t normally like to entertain the likes of him.’
‘You disapprove of what he said? I thought it was. . interesting.’
‘Not his message, no,’ the woman replied, leaning back in her chair and drawing a leg over her other knee. ‘No, he speaks wisely on that front, does the young man. I make no issue about being scared of the aliens — most of us are.’
‘It’s understandable, given the times we live in,’ Fulcrom said. ‘So how did you end up hosting his. . well, his little show?’
‘Oh, he’s a regular here — well, he used to be before the war. That was his chair over there, by the wall.’
‘He had his own chair?’
‘He was in the gangs.’
Fulcrom nodded, pretending to understand the significance of her statement.
‘Those gang types,’ she went on, ‘tend to have their own way around these parts. You don’t mess with them.’
‘It shouldn’t be like that,’ Fulcrom observed.
‘That’s the way this city is,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in complaining about things.’
‘How does a gang type end up here? And how does he go from having a table to going on stage?’
‘Well, he asked for a favour, and I was too scared to say no.’
‘I don’t really get the chance to mix with people like that.’
‘Count yourself lucky.’
‘I was interested in what he had to say, even if he doesn’t impress everyone. I had this silly idea in mind of offering my help.’
The woman eyed him suspiciously. ‘There are better people to help.’
‘But I agree with his sentiments.’
‘You know, I’m feeling generous.’ She then went on to describe the address at which Malum could be found. ‘That’s if you’re serious in your offer.’
‘I’m very serious,’ Fulcrom replied. As if on cue, Lan came over with a necklace in her hand and a wide smile on her face.
‘Well,’ the owner declared, ‘would you look at that. What were the chances?’
‘I know,’ Lan replied, with fake elation.
Fulcrom rose and stood alongside Lan. ‘That’s wonderful news. Now I won’t have to buy you another.’
‘We should probably be going.’
‘Let me show you out,’ the woman said. She walked them back through the musty corridors, which smelled of spilled alcohol and arum weed.
‘One last thing.’ The woman paused at the bottom of the stairwell to the exit. ‘You are both awful liars and performers.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I know lousy acting when I see it. You should have just been honest and asked for his details outright. I’d be glad to see him stopped — that’s if you think you have it in you.’
Fulcrom considered continuing the charade, but decided it wasn’t worth it. ‘We have to be careful. We know who we’re dealing with.’
‘I know. Make sure you watch your back.’
Outside, Fulcrom consulted Lan on their next move. They weighed up their options, but with nothing else in their way they decided to press on to the address.
‘With the military out of the city, we need to see if we can stop this sooner rather than later,’ Fulcrom concluded. ‘At the moment, though, I’m short on ideas. .’
The two of them headed through the wet streets. The cobbles were shiny in the afternoon sun. A giant trilobite, which Fulcrom had heard of but never seen until now, skittered across their path dragging a crate of tools. The devastation from the war was clearer here, but Fulcrom guessed that things had been far worse before they turned up. There wasn’t so much rubble, but it was the lack of activity in what should have been a thriving district that was disconcerting.
It took them the better part of an hour to reach the area they wanted, a well-to-do zone with a few taverns, faded shopfronts, and that kind of architectural spirit far too lacking in the rest of the city.
The building was a whitewashed affair with timber frames and a flat roof. A few people milled around nearby and Fulcrom tried to assess whether or not they were related to the operation Malum was running. A cluster of youths came out of a side door and marched with deliberate purpose and an air of nonchalance. He spotted a few knives being carried, so they decided to hang back a little while longer.
‘So what exactly is the plan?’ Lan asked. ‘We just storm in, the two of us?’
‘No,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘I think we need a little more confirmation of what’s going on. I suspect our next move should be a stealthy one. I want to get up on the roof.’
‘Easy enough.’
‘For you, maybe, not for the likes of me.’
‘Should get yourself some powers someday,’ Lan chuckled.
The roofs were all flat and the buildings close together so Fulcrom decided they should head to one of the nearby taverns, get up on its roof, and jump across until they were on the roof of Malum’s building. Lan happily enough skipped up onto the roof when no one was looking, but Fulcrom had to find his way around the back to scramble up. Lan gave him a hand up at the top, and with an effort he found himself on top of the tavern.