The Cathedral of Known Things

by Edward Cox

  When Ennis looked back to his new captain, Moira’s eyes widened with a deliberate gesture, a silent warning: be careful with your words, she was saying, there was no telling who might decide to eavesdrop, or when. She was as frightened as he was.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  With a sigh, Moira rose from her chair and stared out of the window behind the desk. ‘Hagi Tabet has promised to make many changes in Labrys Town. What they will be, I’ve not been told. But Lady Asajad has … impressed upon me how important it is that I succeed in stopping the Relic Guild, and the virus they would use to destroy us all.’ Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. ‘In this, we cannot fail.’

  The truth was Ennis did not know how much he could trust Moira. She had been after the captain’s position for years. A few people in the force called Moira Jeter’s shadow because she was always there, watching and waiting for him to screw up, like a wasp eager to sting. But with the captaincy finally hers, Moira was as aware as Ennis that the position had become a poisoned chalice under Labrys Town’s new regime. Was she the sort to take people down with her?

  She turned from the window and sat upon the sill. She looked weary. ‘Ennis, I have asked you here because your role in the Police Force is about to change.’

  Ennis frowned. ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘For a long time now I’ve been noticing how Captain Jeter never really appreciated your efforts. In fact, I would go as far as to say that he took credit for much of your work. Am I wrong?’

  Ennis averted his gaze. He couldn’t argue with that. Jeter had always taken the credit for the good work of his officers; not so much for the bad.

  ‘I’ve been watching you, Sergeant,’ Moira said. ‘You have a gift for police work. You think in ways that others don’t. You see evidence and connections that others miss. Your instincts drive you to look in the unlikeliest places, and you have solved more cases than Jeter allowed the records to show.’

  Ennis was looking at his feet. ‘Just taking my job seriously, Ma’am,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Oh, don’t be coy with me,’ Moira said, lacking patience. ‘You keep your head down, uninterested in praise, doing your job quietly, most proficiently, and criminals never see you coming. You are a credit to the force, Ennis.’

  ‘Thank you, Ma’am.’

  There was a long pause, and Ennis’s gaze rose from his feet to the captain.

  Moira was staring at the eye device again. ‘I think it is high time I let you off the leash,’ she said quietly.

  Ennis gave her another frown.

  ‘I’m taking you off regular duties,’ Moira told him. ‘And out of your uniform.’ She paused, considered, and then: ‘I’m ordering you to conduct a private investigation. Use those skills of yours and track down the Relic Guild for me. Find them so we can destroy them. Is that clear?’

  Taken aback, Ennis nodded.

  ‘Understand that I am giving you free licence to do whatever you think necessary, Sergeant. You are answerable only to me. Do not fail me.’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  ‘Good.’ Moira returned to her desk. ‘Then that is all. From this moment, you are working undercover.’ Her expression darkened. ‘We all need a quick resolution on this one.’

  ‘Of course, Ma’am.’

  Ennis headed for the door, his legs curiously light and shaky.

  ‘And don’t forget,’ Moira added as Ennis placed his hand on the doorknob. ‘You report directly to me. Tell no one else of your findings.’

  Chapter Eight

  Friends and Foes

  All was quiet in the Aelfirian jailhouse.

  Samuel didn’t know how long it had been since Councillor Tal had left, but Van Bam seemed to have been asleep on the bunk in the cell for a long time. His face was peaceful, the smooth metal plates fused to his eye sockets looking up at the ceiling with a cold stare, dull grey and lifeless. In the neighbouring cell, Clara also slept – at least, Samuel hoped that was what she was doing. Her metamorphosis back into human form had been torturous to listen to, and he didn’t want to imagine the kind of cruel agony it had inflicted upon the changeling’s body. She hadn’t woken since the change, and he prayed that Clara now slept because the experience had left her exhausted and not damaged – physically or mentally.

  Clara, by a spiteful twist of magic, now had the voice of Gideon haunting her mind. Whatever motive the avatar had for doing this, Samuel thought that if he was in Clara’s position, he would probably have shot himself already.

  With a sigh, the old bounty hunter pressed his face between the cool metal bars of the cell, and stared out through the only window in the jailhouse. His weapons and utility belt lay upon the table beneath the window, maddeningly out of his reach.

  The view outside was alien yet familiar. Samuel was certain that enough time had passed for the day to slip into night, yet the strange purple sun still shone above Sunflower. Samuel could see two of those wide wooden bridges that crossed to the tooth-shaped, free floating islands. And upon those islands were the portals that led to the sub-Houses of the Aelfheim Archipelago.

  Samuel had visited Sunflower before, years ago; but the view through the window did not belong to the House he remembered. He wondered what had happened to this place, what had happened to all the Aelfirian Houses, during the last forty years.

  The Houses haven’t heard from the Thaumaturgists since the end of the Genii War, Councillor Tal had said. And it seemed like they weren’t coming back.

  Samuel didn’t trust the elderly Aelf, but he trusted that Van Bam did. ‘For certain, Tal knows more than he is presently able to tell us,’ the illusionist had told Samuel earlier. ‘It seems he has been waiting for the Relic Guild. I believe he knew we would tell him the Genii have returned. He wants to help us, Samuel.’

  But if Tal’s word could be trusted, if the Thaumaturgists, the overlords of human and Aelfir alike, had abandoned the Houses as coldly as they had abandoned the Labyrinth, how could the elderly Aelf help the Relic Guild? How could anyone? Who was left with the power to rid Labrys Town of creatures of higher magic?

  With that daunting question hanging heavy and unanswered in his mind, his gaze still locked on the view through the window, it dawned on Samuel just how much distance had grown between humans and Aelfir. Four decades of separation, forty years of absence, enough time to forget, enough time for a new generation to grow with no memory of the old days. Samuel decided that the chill and unwelcoming landscape of Sunflower was a good representation of the cold divide that separated humans and Aelfir; and again he wondered – what had happened to this place?

  More than fifty years had passed since Samuel had last visited the Aelfheim Archipelago. It had been a time before Van Bam and Marney had joined the Relic Guild, and Samuel had been painfully young, younger than Clara was now. An old and wise empath called Denton had chaperoned Samuel, but the trip had not been undertaken on official Nightshade business; its reason was to give a boy the experience to grow into manhood. It had been the first time Samuel had seen an Aelfirian House.

  Denton had shown Samuel all the sub-Houses of the Aelfheim Archipelago, but it had been Sunflower that most impressed the boy. Back then, a great yellow sun had filled the days with brilliant light and welcoming warmth; the nights were fresh and clean and full of dreams, illuminated by three moons and a host of pinprick stars. Farmers had tended fields of golden crops that stretched as far as the eye could see; cattle wandered and fed upon sprawling plains of lush, green grass; animals roamed free and wild through forests of tall trees; and in giant greenhouses the size of the Nightshade, all manner of exotic fruits and plants were grown.

  The two weeks Samuel had spent in Sunflower had become his most treasured memories. Some days he would help the farmers in the fields or collect chicken eggs or muck out the stables. Other days he might walk with Denton through a forest, learning about the Aelfir and
what was expected of him as an agent of the Relic Guild. And sometimes Samuel would just walk alone, for miles and hours, across a natural landscape devoid of buildings – a vast change from the squalid houses of Labrys Town, surrounded by boundary walls and the twists and turns of an endless maze.

  He remembered not wanting to turn back from those walks, not caring if he never saw the Labyrinth again. The adolescent Samuel had been jealous of the Aelfir of Sunflower; they were living a life far more wholesome and free than a boy from Labrys Town had ever thought possible. And that jealousy had never entirely left the old bounty hunter.

  What event could have turned Sunflower into such a cold and unwelcoming place, Samuel didn’t know. It was depressing to see it in such a state. The glorious House that had impressed itself upon the mind of that young magicker might have gone now, but the memory of it had been the spark of warmth that had given Samuel hope through his long years of isolation in the Labyrinth.

  Samuel sighed. There was a sense of irony inherent to the situation in which the Relic Guild found itself embroiled. Irony that was personal to him. Only a few days ago, the enigmatic avatar had instigated Samuel’s involvement in this whole mess, and the shame of it lingered inside him.

  Before Samuel knew that Fabian Moor had returned, before he knew that the Relic Guild was needed – for the first time in forty years – the avatar had visited him, offering a bounty contract that was too good to turn down. The reward of the contract was escape from the Labyrinth. Samuel could choose any House of the Aelfir he liked, and the avatar would procure his passage to it. Instinctively, Samuel had thought of Sunflower; and for a while, had truly believed he might get to spend the rest of his days among lush fields of crops and forests of tall trees. All he had to do to secure this reward was to kill a young magicker called Clara.

  In the neighbouring cell, as if sensing Samuel’s lingering shame, Clara moaned in her dreams. She fell silent, and her sleeping breaths mingled with Van Bam’s once more.

  Samuel had meant to do it. Without a second thought, he would’ve killed Clara for the chance to return to Sunflower. But the avatar had a strange and unfathomable – not to mention dangerous – way of going about things. The bounty contract it offered had been a ruse, and a part of Samuel had always known that. The avatar had been manipulating events, and it had never intended to let an old bounty hunter kill an innocent changeling. The bounty contract had ensured Samuel’s interest; it had been a means to call him back to the Relic Guild, to remind him of his duty and the promises he had once made to protect the denizens of Labrys Town.

  Although Samuel had been duped, he could offer no excuses for his actions – he was glad he didn’t have Clara’s death burning a hole into his conscience. And he wondered if the avatar knew that its promise to him had been kept? Had it known that Samuel would return to Sunflower?

  ‘But not like this,’ he whispered.

  The view outside was a shattered dream, a broken memory of all that Samuel had once thought of as good and …

  His magic stirred.

  It was a pulse of preparation, not a sharp flare of warning. Samuel’s prescient awareness was telling him that the Relic Guild’s situation was about to change. And dangerously.

  He kicked Van Bam’s bunk. ‘Wake up,’ he hissed.

  Instantly alert, Van Bam sat up and turned to Samuel. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Someone’s coming.’

  Outside the jailhouse door there was a muffled thump followed by a groan. Van Bam jumped to his feet as the door opened, and two people entered.

  The first was short and slight of build. The second, tall and broad, was dragging the limp, unconscious body of the policeman who had stood guard outside. Both of them wore tops with hoods of charmed material that shrouded their faces with impenetrable shadow.

  The taller figure dumped the unconscious policeman, and Samuel immediately noted the strange rifle hanging from his shoulder. The barrel was unusually thick, more like metal tubing. And between the barrel and the stock was a drum, giving the weapon a clunky, awkward look. A spell sphere launcher, Samuel realised with surprise. He hadn’t seen one since before the Genii War.

  The shorter figure paused to look into Clara’s cell before moving to the next cell along.

  ‘Your names are Van Bam and Samuel.’ A woman’s voice, low and secretive. She carried no obvious weapons, but a cloth satchel hung from her shoulder. ‘We’re here to rescue you, and we don’t have much time.’

  ‘And you are …?’ said Van Bam.

  ‘Explanations later. You’re in more danger than you realise.’

  The illusionist looked at Samuel.

  Samuel shrugged. ‘I’m not sensing any threat. But she is desperate.’

  ‘Of course I’m bloody desperate,’ the woman hissed. ‘You have no idea what’s heading your way.’

  ‘You should listen to her,’ said the woman’s companion. His voice was deep. He had moved to the table beneath the window and was checking the items resting there. He came over to the cell and passed Van Bam his green glass cane through the bars. ‘And you’ll need these,’ he said, offering Samuel two power stones. ‘Yours have lost their charge.’

  Again, the illusionist looked at the old bounty hunter, seeking advice from his prescient awareness. Again, Samuel felt no danger and shrugged.

  ‘How do you know us?’ Van Bam said.

  ‘Interesting story,’ the woman replied. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

  Samuel detected a hint of amusement in her voice.

  ‘I’ll have to shoot the lock open,’ said the man. ‘These are too complicated to pick quickly.’ He adjusted the spell sphere launcher and reached for the pistol holstered at his hip. ‘Stand back,’ he said to the agents.

  ‘Look in my utility belt,’ Samuel said before the Aelf could draw the pistol. ‘You’ll find a phial of acid.’

  ‘That’ll do the trick,’ the man said, and he strode back to the table.

  ‘When these cells are open, we have to move fast,’ said the woman. She was gripping the bars, her voice earnest. ‘Do as we say, when we say it. You have to trust us.’

  Van Bam cocked his head to one side, a strange expression on his face. ‘I know your voice.’

  The woman paused for a moment. She then reached up and pulled back her hood. She revealed the face of an Aelf in her mid-fifties. Her hair was shoulder length and curly, black but laced with grey strands. Her large eyes were a soft shade of green, her small mouth and nose softened the usually triangular-shaped face of the Aelfir into a more subtle heart shape.

  ‘Namji?’ Van Bam whispered with incredulity.

  ‘Hello, Van Bam.’ She didn’t quite smile as she studied his face. ‘What happened to your eyes?’

  ‘That, too, is an interesting story.’

  Samuel watched the interchange with no small degree of confusion, his mind latching on to old memories. ‘Namji?’ he demanded of Van Bam. ‘From Mirage?’

  ‘Indeed,’ the illusionist confirmed humourlessly, his metal eyes still fixed on the woman.

  ‘And this ugly brute is Glogelder,’ Namji said as the man returned with the phial from Samuel’s utility belt.

  He also swept back his hood. He was younger than Namji – mid-twenties, Samuel guessed. His eyes were such dark brown they were almost black. His nose had been broken – more than once – and his pointed ears had seen their fair share of beatings. There was not one strand of hair on his head, no shade of stubble on his face, and nothing that even hinted at eyebrows. But the scars of old gashes and wounds pocked his face and scalp like craters on a battered moon.

  Glogelder chuckled thickly. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, as he dripped acid into the cell door’s lock.

  Whilst metal hissed and melted, Samuel glared at the Aelfirian rescuers. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  Namji shrugged. ‘
We’re the Relic Guild,’ she said happily.

  Samuel aimed his ever increasing bemusement at Van Bam. ‘You know what?’ he said in a surrendering sort of tone. ‘I’m just about ready to punch someone in the face.’

  The Resident was feeding.

  A long appendage extruded from Tabet’s navel, a pale tentacle that reached down onto the floor, where it stretched and widened into a fleshy sack that held a denizen. The sack squeezed and shuddered as it crushed and chewed away the life of the human male inside; breaking bones, pushing blood along with liquefied skin, muscle and organs up the appendage into Tabet’s body. Hanging upon her web of leathery tentacles, the Resident was frozen in a posture of ecstasy. Her arms and legs were splayed, her eyes closed, and her was mouth open as if preparing to issue a cry of pleasure.

  Below Tabet, watching her feed, Fabian Moor and Viktor Gadreel stood alongside each other. An air of impatience surrounded the Genii. Tabet had summoned them to the chamber because she had finished processing the memories that had been harvested from the empath Marney and stored within the flower. But the Resident had been weakened by her work, and needed sustenance before she could reveal what she had found.

  Moor’s hands were balled into fists at his side. He had waited decades to discover where the Timewatcher had hidden Oldest Place, but these final few moments of the long wait were by far the most frustrating to endure. He willed Tabet to eat faster.

  ‘Asajad should be here,’ Viktor Gadreel rumbled. ‘We should be together for this moment.’

  ‘Mo Asajad is busy controlling the denizens,’ Moor replied offhandedly. ‘Her absence makes no difference to the outcome.’

  Moor suppressed a smile. If Asajad had heard his words, they would have cut her to the bone. Good, he thought; she needed to learn her place within this small band of Genii. She needed to respect that it was Fabian Moor whom Lord Spiral trusted the most, not Mo Asajad. That she had not been summoned to this moment where the Genii would gain the information that would set their lord and master free … well, perhaps she would learn a little humility and finally begin to temper her challenging ways.