Vipond opened the linen bag. Inside was a glove of sorts, but fingerless, rather like the kind worn by market traders in winter to keep their hands warm but their fingers nimble. The material here was of the strongest thick leather, and emerging from the thickest part along the edge of the palm was a blade about five inches long, curving round gently at the end so as to follow the turn of the human neck. On the blade was an inscription: “Graviso,” after the place of manufacture. Just inside the interior of the glove was a name tag, like those attached to the clothes of schoolchildren, with “Petar Brzica” neatly stitched in blue. Shaking, Chancellor Vipond returned to the report.
Beginning with the women, the Redeemers led them out singly. They were made to kneel. Then a single Redeemer wearing the device sent with this dispatch came from behind, pulled their heads back exposing their throats and drew the blade, clearly curved for that purpose, across the victim’s throat. The bodies were then dragged out of sight and then the next victim would be taken from the building in which they were being held. We could find only one living witness-a boy. According to him, each one of these murders would take no more than thirty seconds from beginning to end. Not knowing their fate, the victims seemed fearful but not terrified and their deaths were carried out with such speed that none cried out, nor indeed did so at any point during the day. In this way the Redeemers had killed all the women (391) by one o’clock. (The witness could see the clock tower on the Town Hall.) The men of the village were then dealt with in the same manner (503). However, when it came to the (304) children under the age of ten, they lost all concern for keeping their actions secret. In ones and twos the children were thrown from the highest balcony in order to break their necks. Not even the youngest baby was spared. In all my life I never saw such a thing. Upon completion of his testimony, and before we could prevent it, the witness ran off into the forest, swearing revenge upon the attackers.
Geoffrey Menouth, Sheriff of the County of Maldon
During the hours of daylight for three days Cale had been in the woods that edged the Royal Park, watching the Materazzi army training in full armor. He had tested the weight of a suit left in a corridor while its owner installed himself in one of the rooms of Arbell’s palazzo. He must have been someone of serious significance because the city was already packed with Materazzi to the point where neither love nor money nor the rank that was more important than either could get you a decent bed. He guessed the suit must have weighed around seventy pounds. On the face of it he couldn’t see how such a burden could allow any of the speed and flexibility he took for granted, no matter how much protection it gave. But having watched them practice, he realized he was completely wrong. He was astonished at how quickly they could move, how light they were on their feet and how the armor seemed to flow with their every move. They could jump on and off their horses with an ease that astonished him. Conn Materazzi even climbed a ladder up the reverse side and then flipped himself over to scramble onto the tower he was pretending to take. The blows they landed on each other would have cut an unarmored man in two, but they seemed able to shrug off even the most hideous strike. There were some vulnerable spots-the top and inside of the thigh for one-but it would be hugely risky taking one of them on. This would need thinking about.
“BOO! Caught you,” said Kleist, emerging from behind a tree with Vague Henri and IdrisPukke.
“I heard you all coming five minutes ago. The fat women in the ice cream parlor would have made less noise.”
“Vipond wants to see you.” For the first time Cale looked at them.
“Did he say why?”
“A Redeemer fleet under that shit-bag Coates attacked somewhere called Port Collard, set fire to half of it, then left. One of the soldiers told me that the locals call it Little Memphis.”
Cale shut his eyes as if he had heard very bad news. He had. When he finished explaining why, no one said anything for some time.
“We should leave,” said Kleist. “Now. Tonight.”
“I think he’s right,” said Vague Henri.
“So do I. I just can’t.”
Kleist groaned.
“For God’s sake, Cale, how do you think you and Lady Muck are going to end up?”
“Why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier?”
“I think you should tell Vipond,” said IdrisPukke.
“We’re done here. Why can’t any of you see that?”
“Blab this to Vipond and all three of us’ll end up at the bottom of the Bay of Memphis feeding our kidney suet to the fishes.”
“He could be right,” said Vague Henri. “We’re about as popular as a boil at the moment.”
“And we know whose fault that is,” said Kleist, looking at Cale. “Yours, in case you were wondering.”
“I’ll tell Vipond tomorrow. You two leave tonight,” said Cale.
“I’m not leaving,” said Vague Henri.
“Yes you are,” said Cale.
“No I’m not,” insisted Vague Henri.
“Yes you are,” said Kleist, equally insistent.
“Take my share of the money and go,” said Vague Henri.
“I don’t want your share.”
“Then don’t have it. There’s nothing to stop you going on your own.”
“I know there isn’t, I just don’t want to.”
“Why?” said Vague Henri.
“Because,” said Kleist, “I’m afraid of the dark.” With that, he took out his sword and began lacerating the nearest tree. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
It was in this roundabout way that the three of them agreed both to stay and that IdrisPukke would go with Cale to tell Vipond.
This time Cale did not have to wait when he turned up at Vipond’s offices, but was shown straight in. The first ten minutes were taken up with Vipond’s account of the three Redeemer attacks and the massacre at Mount Nugent. He handed Cale the glove left on the post in the center of the village.
“There’s a name inside. Do you know this person?”
“Brzica? He was the summary executioner at the Sanctuary. He was responsible for killing anyone not meant to be an Act of Faith. ‘Public executions for the religious contemplation of believers.’ ” The tone in which he said this made it clear it was something learned by heart. “They were carried out by holier Redeemers than him. I never saw him use it, but Brzica was known for the speed at which he could kill with this thing.”
“I have made it,” said Vipond quietly, “my personal responsibility to find this man.”
He sat down and drew a deep breath. “None of these attacks seem to make much sense. Is there anything you can tell me about the strategy the Redeemers are using?”
“Yes.”
Vipond sat back and looked at Cale, picking up the odd tone in his reply.
“I know these tactics because I was the one who drew them up. If you show me a map, I can explain.”
“Given what you’ve just told me, I don’t think showing you a map would be wise. Explain first.”
“If you want my help, I’ll need the map to explain what they’re going to do and work out where to stop them.”
“Give me the sum. Then we’ll see about the map.”
Cale could see that Vipond was more skeptical than mistrustful-he didn’t believe him.
“About eight months ago Redeemer Bosco took me to the Library of the Rope of the Hanged Redeemer, something I never heard of a Redeemer doing for an acolyte, and gave me free run of all the works there on Redeemer military tactics for the last five hundred years. Then he gave me everything he had personally collected on the Materazzi empire-and there was a lot of it. He told me to come up with a plan of attack.”