Emperor of Shadows

by Mike Truk

  “Societal reform.”

  “Yes. I grew up around here. My whole life I’ve watched the rich enjoy the best and resent the few scraps that fell to the rest of us. It seems a noble thing to do with my power.”

  “I, too, have grown up around here,” said Baleric. “And on the face of it, that is a noble pursuit. But a word of warning, Kellik. The nobility is not a species apart from the common man. They are the common man. The only difference is that they have the means to indulge in the excesses that everyone else is denied.”

  I considered his words. “I don’t think I agree. The people I grew up with were a far cry different from the nobility and councilors and magistrates I’ve met since.”

  Baleric shrugged one shoulder. “I won’t argue with you. But know that the Church of the Hanged God will be watching you closely. As a rule, we do not involve ourselves with politics. Such mortal concerns are beneath us. But if you stray, if you seek to emulate the worst of your father’s habits, if you become a menace, then we will intervene.”

  “Got it,” I said, raising my tankard. “Can’t say I’m too concerned.”

  “A fair warning. You deserve as much. As well as our gratitude.”

  “Gratitude?”

  “Aurelius was a blight upon the city. In many ways, he was the city. And therefore the city could not change while he yet lived. You have done the impossible. Now Port Gloom has a chance to grow. To change. For that, you have our thanks.”

  “I thought the Hanged God didn’t give a toss for how the living lived. Just how they died.”

  “He might not,” said Baleric with his cold smile. “But some of his living servants are imperfect in their veneration of his ideals.”

  And with that, he nodded to Pony, who’d been listening quietly the whole time, and left the tavern.

  “Huh.” I looked to Pony. “What do you think about all that?”

  Pony dipped his head a fraction.

  “You agree with him?”

  Again Pony dipped his head, then closed one eye and scritched at his blue cheek.

  “It’s a fair warning. Still, it rings a little hollow. If he was so concerned, then he shouldn’t have acted as Aurelius’s servant. A bit late now to take the high ground.”

  Pony shrugged one scrawny shoulder.

  I sighed and considered the tankard. I wasn’t even mildly buzzed. The liquor, harsh rotgut that it was, had no effect on me.

  “An exercise in futility,” I said, rising off the stool. “Come on then. We might as well get back to the others.”

  Pony grunted deep within his chest, near tore off a chunk of the bar as he rose to his feet, and followed me back outside.

  A few well-placed commands, a covered cart, and two nervous mules later, we arrived at Aurelius’s mansion.

  Dawn was breaking. The city was well and truly coming to life. The whir of iron-rimmed carriage wheels on cobblestones was constant; the bark of commands, the cry of salesmen, the sounds of the city.

  The eastern sky was awash with blood as the sun clawed its way out from under the earth, painting the cirrus clouds high above in salmon pinks and burning hues. My favorite hour. As a Family aspirant, seeing dawn meant you’d survived the night. Nothing sweeter than trudging home, stolen spoils slung over your shoulder, dawn breaking, feeling content and victorious, having triumphed over another night in Port Gloom.

  I frowned at that dawn sky. Here I was, returning home. Victorious? Aurelius was dead. The city was mine for the taking. But not content.

  The heavy bag slung over my shoulder made me think I never might be again.

  The guards pulled open the front gate as I approached, recognizing me even atop my rustic cart. I rolled on by, wheels crushing the gravel, and saw several carriages were pulled up around the circular entrance.

  Visitors.

  Of course. Men and women of power who’d come to consult with Aurelius. To discover why his magical compulsions had fallen apart. Why chaos was brewing.

  How to play it? They’d be awaiting inside, no doubt told to wait by Veserigard, who held my interests as paramount now. He’d recognize these nobles as instrumental in running Aurelius’s empire.

  This meant I couldn’t go in through the front door as I’d planned. Being on a cart made it easy, natural even, to simply keep riding, guiding the mules past the entrance and around the side toward the back, the stables, where the servants were wont to manage the affairs of the manor.

  I didn’t so much as attract a glance from the notaries gathered on the front steps.

  The rear of the mansion was typical – a courtyard, horseshoe-shaped stables, complete with storage buildings and a miniature smithy. Self-sufficient and all of it quiet now, the servants standing about conversing in low tones, unsure of themselves and the situation.

  As I’d done countless times before, I guided the cart into a large stable, and turned to regard the massive, covered lump that was Pony.

  “We’re here. I’m going inside to get the lay of the land. Want to wait out of sight till I give you the all-clear?”

  A huge hand clawed the heavy sheet away, and Pony sat up, blinking owlishly. He slowly took in the interior of the stable, then fixed his gaze upon me and gave a low grunt.

  “Good. Be right back.”

  I leaped down from the cart, gathered the heavy sack, and carried it outside.

  “Close the stable doors, stay close, and don’t let anyone inside,” I commanded a pair of stable hands, who moved immediately to obey.

  A few of the more officious servants moved to challenge my approach, but I cowed them without any effort and entered Aurelius’s manor through the servants’ quarter. Moving along the narrow hallways, navigating by instinct, I emerged at last in a massive dining room.

  Fortuna must have been smiling down on me. Pogo was there, seated at the table’s far end, a half-eaten meal set before him, his angular chin in his palm, staring out the diamond-paned windows at the blurred garden beyond.

  “Master Kellik!” He leaped to his feet and bowed deeply. “You are returned! Most gladsome news. I… “ And he simply seemed to run out of steam, slowing and stopping as his eyes alighted on the sack I bore.

  “Master Pogmillion,” I said, voice betraying my weariness. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  His broad lips pursed into a line and tears glimmered in his eyes.

  “Come,” I said. “Let’s find a suitable place for her.”

  “Yes,” said the goblin, voice tremulous. “I can scarce believe… I mean, the reality is self-evident, but somehow my mind, it insists on entertaining impossibilities…”

  “Nothing is impossible,” I said, rounding the end of the table and moving toward the double doors. “This battle isn’t over yet. Anything I need to know about what’s happening in the rest of the house?”

  “The ladies have taken themselves to bed. Veserigard is fending off the queries of recently arrived guests.” Pogo followed but one step behind me, linking his hands behind his hunched back. “I would advise you confer with him promptly. He seems an endless reservoir of information.”

  “Agreed. I’ll find a suite of rooms upstairs. Can you bring him to me?”

  “But of course.”

  I stopped, turned to where Pogo stood, staring fixedly at nothing. Moved to crouch before him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He raised his twisted little face, and I saw such pain and loss in his eyes that it harrowed my own, summoning my own grief back from the depths in which I’d hidden it.

  “We loved her,” I said. “And we’ll avenge her. Better yet, we’ll find a way to bring her back. Perhaps Tamara can offer hope. Who knows what her healing might be capable of?”

  “As you say, Master Kellik,” said Pogo softly, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, but I heard little hope in his voice. “As you say. Very well!” And he gathered himself, tugging at the hem of his little coat. “There will be time for… sentiment… later. For now, Veserigard.”

  �
��Good man,” I said, rising once more. “See you soon.”

  I climbed the sprawling staircase to the second floor, and there wandered the plush hallway, trying to decide where to go. Find Aurelius’s own suite? I didn’t want to sleep in my father’s bed. But perhaps there would be objects of value to be found there. A personal office. Yes. His suite, then.

  Instinct born of a lifetime studying such manors for pilfering guided my footsteps down the length of the hallway to the double doors of rich redwood. Shifting the hempen sack under one arm, I twisted the handle and entered the shadowy domain beyond.

  The room was large, gloomy, with the layout and furniture intimated by dark shapes and empty spaces. Thick carpeting underfoot. The smell of heavily waxed wood, of thick, slightly dusty drapes, along with a subtle incense and another mustier, unique smell.

  I padded forward, moving carefully, silently, as if I were a burglar breaking into a stranger’s home.

  I approached the closest set of curtains, and with quick yanks pulled them open, first one then the other. Bright sunlight streamed within and threw the quarters into sharp relief.

  I beheld a four-poster bed, a massive chest at its foot. A huge, gilt-framed painting on the far wall depicted a beautiful woman in repose, her face brought to life by uncommon artistry. A hoary old lion’s head was stuffed and mounted on the wall, its prodigious size hinting at the monster it must have been while alive. A corner of the large room was given to a huge desk, which was set athwart the angles, a magnificent chair set behind it. The wardrobe was large enough for Pony to step inside; a weapon’s rack was affixed to another section of the wall, displaying a number of very singular weapons.

  An alcove filled with shelving upon which were set as wide a variety of items as one could imagine; bottles, purses, small carved chests, statuettes, skulls, leatherbound tomes, mechanical contrivances, framed portraits in miniature, bars of precious metal, a withered and severed hand -

  Everywhere I looked I saw signs of a long life, like the high tide mark of the Snake Head, where the waves had deposited a wide array of detritus then receded.

  My father’s personal rooms. His private quarters. The heart of his terrible empire.

  I drifted toward the great table, and there set down the hempen sack. Havatier’s remains - if they could even be called that - had been left below in an airtight crate. I moved around it to take in the paperwork, the flute of quills, the bottles of ink, the broad blotter, the pile of freshly sealed documents, the pile of pouches set to one side.

  There were drawers in the desk, none of them locked. More paperwork, most of it looking to be official records, deeds, promissory notes and the like. One draw was divided into small compartments, each of which was filled with precious gems. Another held a massive ledger.

  The only object of personal value on the entirety of the desk was a framed portrait no larger than my hand, propped up by a stand.

  I took it up. Turned it toward the sunlight. A woman was painted in three-quarter profile, her smile enigmatic, her hair lustrous and dark, her fashion outdated. Another work of art. And a different woman from the huge portrait hung on the wall.

  Who had these women been? Loves of my father? Still living? No. I wagered they were long dead. The style of clothing was unlike any I’d ever seen, all given to frills and layers.

  Their presence discomfited me. I set the miniature portrait down and turned to the topmost document on the center pile.

  A shipping contract.

  Flicking through the other documents, I saw that they were all business-related. Transfers of wealth, manifests, interest yields, and more.

  And not just limited to Port Gloom. Aurelius had been doing business in Olandipolis, had trading interests in places as far-flung as Mendev and the Heshaman Isles.

  Pogo entered, a yawning Cerys behind him, followed by a pallid Veserigard and finally Netherys, who was binding her golden hair behind her head.

  “I took the liberty of awakening the ladies, Master Kellik, in part because Cerys instructed me to do so, and in part because I knew they should be part of this conversation.”

  “’The ladies’?” asked Cerys with wry amusement. “Is that what we have become?”

  “Good,” I said, gesturing for them all to sit. They alighted about the room, perching on a chest here, pulling out a stool there, or opting to remain standing in Veserigard’s case. “We have much to discuss. But first, we need to learn more about Aurelius’s operations. A quick scan of these documents shows that his business empire was vast. His wealth?”

  “Incalculable,” said Veserigard. “Literally. Though I know of much of his affairs, I am certain he took even more secret knowledge with him to the grave.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, sitting down in the ornate chair. “Tell me everything I need to know to assume his role in the city in order of importance.”

  Veserigard’s clenched his jaw as his left eye twitched, then gave a jerky nod. “But of course. In order of importance. By which I assume you mean your continued well being. Physical health. Which means identifying the greatest threats to your life. Which means the Aunts and Uncles of the Family.”

  “Good place to start,” I said, leaning back and lacing my fingers over my stomach.

  “There are twelve Aunts and Uncles in Port Gloom,” said Veserigard, his voice losing effect, as if he were speaking while half asleep. “They vary in race, power, and temperament, but all were completely beholden to Aurelius and sought to maintain his absolute grip on the city’s underworld.”

  “Was that their primary focus?” I asked, leaning forward. “I mean, growing up, I always thought they simply wanted to maximize the Family’s profit. You’re saying that wasn’t their goal?”

  “That wasn’t their goal. Aurelius adid not need greater wealth, though he enjoyed the process of making money. Instead, they were tasked with maintaining control through a variety of means, namely Imogen’s Web, directing -”

  Cerys cut in. “Imogen’s Web?”

  “I - yes. Imogen D’Meloni.” And Veserigard gestured at the massive portrait that hung upon the wall. “She was the greatest love of his life, and it was she that created the system by which magic users were forced to stand vigil over Port Gloom, constantly surveilling the city for threats or challenges to his authority.”

  Cerys’s voice turned hard. “Is she dead?”

  “She died over three centuries ago.”

  “I hope she died badly,” I said, remembering all too well the poor women we’d saved from the Web.

  “She did,” said Veserigard simply. “She sacrificed herself to make the first web, and fueled its existence for five decades before passing away.”

  “She what?” Cerys’ expression screwed up in confusion and disgust. “You said she was Aurelius’s greatest love.”

  “She was.” I thought I heard some measure of bitter pleasure in Veserigard’s voice. “You cannot hope to understand the nature of their relationship. Even I, despite having been told it over the years by Aurelius himself, can only piece fragments together. She was brilliant, unsurpassed in her gift of the magic arts, and utterly devoted to Master Aurelius. She sacrificed herself willingly as a gift to her love.”

  “Willingly?” asked Netherys quietly from the side.

  “Willingly,” replied Veserigard emphatically. “Aurelius swore that he never used his powers on her.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I said.

  “You don’t have to believe for it to be true,” said the butler simply. “But returning to your question. The Aunts and Uncles were tasked with running and protecting Imogen’s Web, creating a system that enrolled dissidents into a power structure that prevented them from causing problems -”

  “Dissidents?” I was taking a perverse pleasure in interrupting the man. “You mean… aspirants?”

  “Yes.”

  My head rocked back as if I’d been kicked in the teeth. “You’re saying… the gentlefingers, the Family, the trials,
the aspirants - all of it was just a way to keep us busy and from planning against Aurelius?”

  “There were ancillary benefits, but in large part, yes. Aurelius saw it as part circus, part a snake choking on its own tail. The Family was a mechanism that identified, trained, and controlled the most dangerous elements in the city, and which groomed the very best to eventually become Aunts and Uncles whose job it would be to propagate the system.”

  “The Family… was a lie?”

  I couldn’t explain why I was so shocked. Why this felt like an even greater betrayal than anything that had ever happened to me. I stared at Veserigard in horror.

  Who smiled coldly in response. “Oh, it turned a tidy profit, and as I said, had many other ancillary purposes. But yes. Its primary function was to ensure that the most talented and dangerous elements in society were kept sufficiently engaged that they were never able to cause problems for Aurelius.”

  “But…” I grasped for words. “The Family’s influence, the sheer scope of it, how it had fingers in every pie, how it basically ran the city…?”

  Veserigard’s eyes gleamed. “A rat racing within a wheel.”

  I felt bands of iron tightening across my chest. “And the Aunts and Uncles knew?”

  “Of course. Learning the truth was the final test upon their ascension to the role. Aurelius could have simply ordered them to obey, but he preferred to allow as much free will as was possible in these operations. The results, he said, were infinitely better when you worked with agents you could trust and whose interests aligned with your own. Thus if an Aunt or Uncle could come to terms with the basic premise behind the Family, and make it their own, they passed the test and were given the role.”

  “The fuckers,” I whispered, and my thoughts turned to Jack. Everyman Jack, the bastard who raised me then tried to kill me, my surrogate father and personal nemesis ever since he’d ordered me thrown in the Snake Head. “He knew. My trial, stealing the tax master’s personal seal - it was all a farce.”