The Cathedral of Known Things

by Edward Cox

  It was then that Moor noticed Gadreel was no longer watching Hagi Tabet. His one eye stared at the floor, ignoring the Resident, and the fleshy sack that devoured a human. His big face was creased with concern.

  ‘Viktor,’ said Moor. ‘You are offended by Asajad’s absence?’

  ‘No,’ Gadreel grunted.

  Moor raised an eyebrow. There was an almost embarrassed air surrounding Gadreel’s reply. His hulking body seemed ill at ease.

  ‘Then what is it that troubles you?’ Moor asked.

  ‘Oldest Place.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Gadreel drew a breath. ‘You said that it is an eternal prison, a House of suffering, where Lord Spiral endures never-ending tortures.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘You said that the Timewatcher ensured our Lord would have no defence against his punishment.’

  ‘Viktor,’ Moor said intolerantly, ‘tell me what is on your mind.’

  Gadreel gritted his teeth, perhaps in anger, perhaps steeling himself. ‘Fabian, for forty years Lord Spiral has suffered the Timewatcher’s retribution. What if the ceaseless cruelty of Oldest Place was too much for him? What … what if he is dead?’

  ‘Have you lost your sense of reason, Lord Gadreel?’ Moor admonished, his voice laced with disappointment. ‘Do you really have so little faith in our lord and master?’

  ‘It is a valid concern,’ Gadreel growled.

  ‘No, it is a visceral and self-pitying whim that is clearly beneath you,’ Moor snapped. ‘Consider what you already know. The Timewatcher created Oldest Place as an eternal prison. For its sole prisoner to suffer eternally, I rather think he would have to be kept alive, don’t you?’ He looked up at Hagi Tabet, still on her web deep in the ecstasy of feeding. ‘The Timewatcher might have surrounded Lord Spiral with tortures, but She would have ensured that while in Oldest Place, he would be protected from other harms. At least physically.’

  ‘Then what of his mind?’ Gadreel said. ‘What would protect him from insanity?’

  Moor thought of his own forty years in isolation, and the long wait that had at times threatened to drive him mad. Many things had kept him sane – desire, ambition, vengeance – and he was in no doubt that those things would keep the Lord of the Genii sane too.

  ‘You worry needlessly, without thought or logic,’ Moor said. ‘And perhaps that is why Lord Spiral trusted me with command, and not you.’

  The sting of these words forced the aggression back into Gadreel’s body language, dispelling his uncertainty.

  Moor added, ‘Stop fretting like a human, and tell me, Lord Gadreel, how are you progressing with enticing Hamir out of his hiding place?’

  Gadreel grunted. ‘The necromancer has sealed the door to that room with magic I cannot yet fathom,’ he said angrily. ‘But give me time, Fabian, and I—’

  He broke off with a noise of disgust.

  The fleshy sack on the floor was now as baggy and limp as a deflated balloon. The greasy lips of its mouth opened, belched rancid air, and then squeezed out a pile of broken bones smeared in pink jelly. The sack then shrank as Hagi Tabet sucked the tentacular appendage back into her body, leaving an angry red bud the size of a fist at her navel. Tabet relaxed. She gave a satisfied sigh, but did not open her eyes.

  Two of the Resident’s servants materialised in the room, and Moor was almost too embarrassed to gaze upon them.

  It was a strange quirk of the Nightshade to project into being eerie phantoms that represented an inner aspect of whoever held the Residency. Their function was to take care of mundane chores, but the monstrosities that appeared in the room now also showed how damaged Hagi Tabet’s inner being was.

  Raw and pink skin hung from their withered bodies in folds. Their spherical heads drooped from the end of long, weak necks. Features were smeared across their faces, and they stared with watery, lidless eyes that bulged from sockets as pink orbs. The aspects began gathering up the pile of sticky bones with large, fat-fingered hands on the end of stick-thin limbs. Moor regarded them as disgusting creations, and he decided that Lady Tabet should feel ashamed of herself.

  His patience frayed, Moor glared up at the Resident.

  ‘Hagi!’ he shouted.

  Tabet’s eyelids fluttered open. She took a moment, as if struggling to remember where she was. She looked at the aspects clearing away the remnants of her meal, and then at her fellow Genii. Finally, her eyes met Moor’s, and her expression became accusing, bordering on rage.

  ‘You were wrong!’ Tabet spat at him.

  Moor shared a quick, confused glance with Gadreel, before replying, ‘Explain yourself.’

  ‘The empath,’ Tabet said, as though the word was a bad taste in her mouth. ‘That filthy, pathetic bitch of a human … you were wrong about her, my dear Lord Moor.’ Her teeth were gritted.

  ‘Hagi, stop delaying and tell us how to free Lord Spiral from his prison,’ Gadreel said. His simmering frustration seemed ready to boil over. ‘Where is Oldest Place?’

  ‘I cannot tell you,’ Tabet said in a deathly tone. ‘For the empath did not know.’

  Gadreel looked at Moor, his one eye shining vindictively. ‘What’s the meaning of this, Fabian?’

  A moment of stunned silence had fallen upon Moor, and he did not answer Gadreel. ‘Impossible,’ he whispered to Tabet. ‘You are mistaken.’

  Tabet’s gaze was as cold as it was accusing. ‘Fabian – the full extent of the empath’s memories were laid before me.’ She prodded her temple with a finger. ‘I can see them as clearly as I see you. The flower gave me every detail of a life belonging to a woman called Marney, and – believe me – she did not know the location of Oldest Place.’

  For the first time in an age, Moor found himself gripped by doubt. His mouth worked silently, his words frozen in his throat.

  ‘Look again, Hagi!’ he said finally, hating the desperate tone in his voice.

  ‘I have,’ she replied. ‘Many times.’

  ‘But … but how could I be wrong?’

  ‘Wrong?’ Gadreel rumbled. ‘You assured us the human knew, Fabian.’

  ‘She did,’ Moor replied flatly. ‘I know she did.’

  Hagi Tabet sighed. ‘She most certainly did not.’

  ‘Perhaps your tree creature did not function as you hoped it would,’ Gadreel said accusingly. ‘Perhaps it did not harvest the full extent of the human’s memories.’

  ‘The tree functioned perfectly,’ Moor said through clenched teeth. ‘The empath was drained of all she knew.’

  ‘Perhaps we should retrieve her body and try again.’

  Moor did not care for the disbelief and disappointment in Gadreel’s thick tones. ‘The empath is dead!’ he snapped at his fellow Genii. ‘Do you understand? Dead and rotting! We have already taken everything she had! Hagi—’

  ‘No, Fabian,’ the Resident said. ‘Please don’t try again to tell me I am mistaken. I searched through the empath’s memories a hundred times. At no point in her life did Marney discover the location of Oldest Place. At no point did she hold the key to Lord Spiral’s freedom.’

  ‘You said yourself that Marney had shattered her timeline,’ Moor said threateningly. ‘You said she had hidden memories within memories.’ His shock, his frustration, was quickly turning to seething, white hot rage. ‘Search them again, Hagi.’

  ‘No.’ Tabet turned her pale and watery eyes away from Moor, as if she was embarrassed to be associated with him. ‘You have made a mistake, Fabian. Accept it.’

  ‘Accept what?’ Gadreel rumbled. ‘That we have failed? That Lord Spiral was wrong to trust us?’

  Giving a bellow of outrage, he lashed out with a tree-trunk leg and kicked one of Tabet’s aspects into the other. With a sickening thud, the grotesque creations tumbled across the room in a mash of loose pink flesh, scattering human bones as they went. The aspects
faded and disappeared.

  Gadreel rounded on Moor, jabbing a thick finger at him. ‘You dared to admonish me for lacking logic and thought, when all the while it was you, Fabian Moor, whom Lord Spiral was wrong to trust!’

  ‘Hold your tongue,’ Moor growled.

  Gadreel sneered and issued a bitter laugh. ‘You are not fit to order me, you cretin!’ The look in his one eye was steely. ‘Lord Spiral gave you command, entrusted his freedom to you, and you have failed him and us and the future by placing your faith in a lowly human—’

  Moor snapped.

  His hand flashed out and gripped his fellow Genii by the throat.

  Physically, Viktor Gadreel was an obese brute, easily as strong as three humans. But his thaumaturgy was not as honed and powerful as Moor’s – nor was his mind. Always choosing muscle over magic first, Gadreel tried to crash a massive fist into Moor’s face. But with a burst of thaumaturgy, Moor lifted Gadreel’s bulk off the floor whilst his hand tightened around his throat.

  Gadreel began fighting for air, unable to break Moor’s grip. Only then did he try to summon his thaumaturgy, but Moor dampened it with his own.

  ‘I told you to hold your tongue!’

  And with another thaumaturgic burst, Moor sent Gadreel flying from his hand to crash into the wall, where he fell into a heap on the floor, unconscious among sticky, pale bones.

  Hagi Tabet watched the proceedings with the simple glee of a child watching a puppet show. ‘This is not Viktor’s fault, Fabian,’ she admonished. Her words were chiding, but her tone was airy and vague. ‘He was not the one who placed all hope upon the knowledge of a human empath. He did not fail.’

  Moor turned his cold gaze to the Resident hanging from her leathery web. ‘I want you to consider the answer to an important question, Hagi. And I want you to consider very carefully. Will you do that for me?’

  She gave a witless smile, as Moor continued.

  ‘If we cannot find where the Timewatcher hid Oldest Place, if we cannot free Lord Spiral, then what purpose do the Genii serve?’

  Tabet’s response was a giggle.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know why that is funny, Hagi, but if we have no purpose, then surely the only alternative left to the Genii is simple survival?’

  Tabet stopped laughing.

  ‘Viktor, Asajad and I may scatter to the winds if we choose,’ Moor said. ‘But what of you? Where will you go? Without your symbiosis with the Nightshade, you will die. How long do you think the humans will tolerate you without the protection of your colleagues? Who will feed you?’

  Tabet gave an odd smile, and Moor pulled a thoughtful expression.

  ‘Perhaps the kindest thing would be to take a knife and cut you down from your web,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I should slice your throat and drink the thaumaturgy straight from your blood and put you out of your misery.’

  Tabet’s odd smile disappeared, but her tone of voice remained airy. ‘That doesn’t seem like a very pleasant alternative, does it, Fabian?’

  ‘No.’ Moor reined in his anger. ‘Now tell me again, Lady Tabet, are you really so sure the Genii have failed?’

  Two tears ran in straight lines down Tabet’s cheeks. ‘I could have been mistaken.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Moor said hollowly. ‘Search Marney’s memories again – another hundred times if you have to, a thousand times, a thousand-thousand. Go through them slowly, methodically. Pull apart every second of her life, and find what she has hidden.’ Moor shook his head. ‘I was not wrong, Hagi. That empath knew the location of Oldest Place. I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Most assuredly, Lord Moor.’

  ‘Then get on with it.’ Moor looked to the crumpled and unconscious bulk of Viktor Gadreel on the floor. ‘And when this fool wakes up, tell him to open the door to that damn room, and drag the necromancer to my feet.’

  Chapter Nine

  Friendly Enemy

  Sunflower’s strange sun hung before the stars, apparently never altering its position in an alien sky. The orb of purple burned with cold fire, and Samuel’s breath rose in clouds, as the Relic Guild followed their Aelfirian rescuers, who had adopted the same moniker as the humans they were rescuing.

  The long, wide street outside the police station was utterly deserted. Not one Aelf was present to witness the group’s passing, and the windows on the faces of the terraced buildings remained lightless. Samuel wondered if most of the populace were now at the huge warehouse, sending Labrys Town its shipment of all-important cargo.

  ‘Lucky for us, Marca believes he’s a lot cleverer than he actually is,’ said Namji. ‘He’s too sure of himself. He thinks he’s one step ahead of us.’

  Jogging alongside Namji, spell sphere launcher in hand, Glogelder made a grunting noise that might have been a scoff. ‘But Marca’s going to learn a harsh lesson tonight – if he hasn’t already.’

  Both the Aelfir had covered their faces with the charmed hoods of their jumpers. They led the group along by the guardrail that marked the edge of Sunflower, and over which the gaping abyss of space waited to swallow any who might fall. Samuel was pleased to feel his rifle in his hands again and his utility belt around his waist, though he missed the weight of his lost revolver in the holster strapped to his thigh. Along with new power stones, Glogelder had also given Samuel fresh ammunition.

  Van Bam carried his green glass cane in his right hand, while his left arm was wrapped around Clara’s legs. The changeling was a limp weight on the illusionist’s shoulder. Despite several attempts, she couldn’t be woken. But Namji, who apparently had skill as a magic-user, assured the group that Clara had entered a healing sleep and would only wake up when she was ready. Samuel didn’t really understand what that meant, but Van Bam had said Gideon concurred with her prognosis, and that was as much as the old bounty hunter needed to know.

  So the changeling slept, feather-light and limp on Van Bam’s shoulder, wrapped up in the thick blue cloak given to her by Councillor Tal.

  ‘Tell me,’ Van Bam said. ‘Why do we have enemies within this Panopticon of Houses?’

  Namji gave a derisive laugh. ‘There’s a long explanation to that one,’ she said. ‘But for now you can be sure that your enemies have more power than your friends.’

  ‘That’s an understatement,’ said Glogelder in his rough, guttural voice. ‘Some people in the Panopticon really hate the Relic Guild.’

  Samuel wondered if he was talking about the human Relic Guild or the Aelfirian.

  ‘You have to understand,’ Namji continued. ‘The Labyrinth might consider Sunflower an important House – the most important, seeing as it’s responsible for keeping the denizens alive – but to … certain other Aelfir, it’s a scab on a wound that won’t heal properly. Sunflower really isn’t equipped for this kind of situation. Nobody expected to see humans again.’

  ‘But you did,’ Samuel said.

  ‘And also Councillor Tal,’ Van Bam added.

  ‘Catch on quick, this lot,’ Glogelder said to Namji with a throaty laugh. ‘Let’s just say we were given a heads up by a mutual friend who likes to appear now and then all shiny and blue and full of secrets.’

  ‘The avatar?’ Samuel’s voice was full of surprise. ‘You’ve seen it?’

  Again, Glogelder laughed. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘What do you know about it?’ Van Bam said.

  ‘Only that it gets around,’ Namji replied.

  ‘Do you know where it comes from?’ Van Bam pressed. ‘Who is controlling it? Who is the avatar’s master?’

  ‘We don’t know. But as I said, we’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you out of here first.’

  Their breath steaming in the air, the Aelfir continued to lead the three humans along the edge of Sunflower at a light run. Every so often, they passed gates to t
he bridges that crossed the gulf of space to the floating islands of portals. Each of those portals led to a different sub-House of the Aelfheim Archipelago, every one a bright and golden farming community – or at least they had been. Samuel wondered if all the sub-Houses had suffered the same eerie transformation that had rendered Sunflower a cold and miserable place.

  ‘We’ve arranged transport,’ Namji said.

  ‘Transport to where?’ Samuel asked instinctively, suspiciously.

  ‘Anywhere rather than here,’ Glogelder replied gruffly. ‘We can’t afford to stand still for long. From this moment, we’re all on the run.’

  ‘He’s right – we have to keep moving,’ Namji added. ‘The Thaumaturgists might have disappeared, but they did leave behind certain … safeguards that the Panopticon of Houses won’t hesitate to activate.’

  ‘Safeguards?’ Van Bam said. ‘Against humans?’

  ‘To stop us contacting the Labyrinth, and to deal with you if you should get out,’ Namji explained. ‘The Thaumaturgists left behind an agent. They call him the Toymaker, and he’s an exceedingly efficient tracker.’

  ‘Tracker,’ Glogelder grunted. ‘An assassin and an evil bastard is what he is.’

  ‘One man?’ said Samuel. ‘I’ll take care of him if he comes our way,’ he added confidently.

  Glogelder chuckled, half in approval, half in pity. ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever laid eyes on the Toymaker,’ he said. ‘You don’t know he’s around until his toys come for you – that’s what they say. I’m not sure your prescient awareness could stop him.’

  Samuel narrowed his eyes. ‘How do you know about my magic?’

  ‘More than that,’ said Van Bam, ‘why would the Aelfir send an assassin to kill us without listening to what we have to say?’ His voice was angrier than Samuel was accustomed to. ‘I suspect it has to do with more than the fact that we have broken the Timewatcher’s law, yes?’