The Cathedral of Known Things

by Edward Cox

  Namji seemed exasperated by the continual questions, but Glogelder was happy to provide answers.

  ‘A lot of Houses blame humans for the way things turned out,’ he said. ‘They think it’s your fault the Timewatcher left. They’re important Houses too, lots of influence—’

  ‘The point being,’ Namji said testily, ‘there are people in the Panopticon of Houses who already hate humans enough. Once they know denizens have escaped the Labyrinth, they won’t listen to anything you have to say about Fabian Moor and the Genii. But they will send the Toymaker. We have to keep moving.’

  As Van Bam shifted Clara’s position on his shoulder, Samuel could see the troubled, suspicious expression on his face, could almost hear the pernicious questions of Gideon inside his head. How much more did these Aelfir calling themselves the Relic Guild know? How much had the avatar shared with them?

  ‘Wait,’ Namji said.

  She came to a halt beside one of the gates cut into the guardrail. There, two police officers were on their knees. Samuel could tell straight away they had been shot by ice-bullets, and recently. Frozen into position with rifles still in their hands, they wouldn’t defrost for a long time. Despite the scene before him, Samuel’s magic detected no immediate danger.

  ‘As I told you,’ Namji said with a dangerous edge to her voice, ‘Marca believes in himself too much. We have more friends in Sunflower than he realises. This way – everything has been arranged.’

  Leaving the frozen officers, Namji led the way through the gate and onto the wide bridge on the other side. Considering it was comprised of wooden slats held together by rope, the bridge was sturdier than it appeared. To Samuel’s surprise, it didn’t sway or groan as the group headed across to the floating island at the other end. Held by some feat of magic, the bridge remained as solid as stone, and made for a safe crossing over the endless abyss of star-filled space.

  As they neared the end of the bridge, Samuel could see a cargo container positioned before the huge archway of a portal. The container was at least seven foot tall, and nearly as wide and long as the floating platform it sat upon. The double doors at its end were already open; the portal behind it was active and humming, alive with liquid darkness. And lying on the ground before the open doors of the cargo container were the frozen bodies of four more police officers.

  The environment pressed in on Samuel’s senses with sharp needles; time dulled, and his prescient awareness flared with warning. With his back to them, an Aelf was crouched over one of the frozen bodies, holding a pistol with its power stone primed and glowing.

  ‘Stop,’ Samuel ordered.

  Namji and Glogelder came to an instant standstill on the bridge, as if they had been heeding Samuel’s magic all their lives. They looked back at Samuel, waiting. Leading with his rifle, Samuel stepped ahead of the group, almost to the end of the bridge, taking steady aim at the crouching figure.

  ‘Who is that?’ Van Bam said.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Namji said hurriedly.

  The figure turned to the group and rose to his feet. Tall and thin, it was Hillem, Supervisor Marca’s idiot lackey.

  He smiled and waved. ‘I was getting worried,’ he said in a clear voice far from that of a simpleton.

  ‘Hillem’s an agent of the Relic Guild,’ Namji explained. ‘He’s been undercover in Sunflower for a while now.’

  ‘We’ve got a problem,’ Hillem said. ‘I can’t find Marca—’

  ‘Shut up,’ Samuel spat. He kept his rifle aimed at the tall and thin Aelf.

  ‘Hillem’s one of us,’ Glogelder stressed. ‘Lower your—’

  ‘I said shut up!’

  Samuel’s magic was gaining momentum, the sharp needles in his blood growing hotter, building to an event. But the danger did not come from Hillem, or the revelation that he was not the imbecile that Samuel and Van Bam had been led to believe; the danger was not in the immediate vicinity. But …

  Van Bam stepped up behind him. ‘What is your magic telling you, Samuel?’

  The answer came with a series of shouts filling the air, and Hillem’s expression dropped as he stared at the mainland behind the group.

  Samuel wheeled around. Glogelder ducked out of his way as Samuel took aim at the other end of the bridge. A door on one of the houses had burst open, and five police officers were running across the street.

  ‘You were supposed to take care of Marca’s surprises?’ Glogelder shouted at Hillem, hefting his spell sphere launcher.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,’ Hillem snapped back. ‘I don’t know where Marca is!’

  ‘It’s not an ambush,’ Samuel said.

  The police headed towards the bridge, but their shouts did not carry authority, nor were their weapons aimed at the Relic Guild. Their words were unintelligible, panicked, terrified; the officers were fleeing.

  A sixth person emerged, running and shouting in desperation. It was Supervisor Marca. He held a pistol, and turned, power stone flashing as he unloaded into the open doorway, blindly, madly. But he could not halt the progress of a stream of silver that rushed from the house. Marca dropped his weapon and began running again, shouting for help, but he didn’t get far.

  By the time Samuel could see that the stream of silver was in fact a swarm of small automatons, scuttling on metallic legs, each no bigger than a hand, the first of them had caught up with Marca. They clambered over him, stabbing his head and body with whipping tails that flashed with thaumaturgic light each time they pierced his skin. And by the time Marca fell to the ground, face down and dead, the swarm had caught up with the police officers.

  Each of them fell screaming, dying from the sting of thaumaturgy, leaving the band of scuttling automatons to head for the bridge. There had to be at least a hundred of them.

  ‘Shit!’ Namji hissed.

  ‘How did he find us this fast?’ Glogelder said. There was fear in the big Aelf ’s voice.

  Samuel wasn’t listening. As the swarm approached the gate to the bridge, he emptied his rifle’s magazine into them. Four shots, each one hitting a hand-sized automaton with a dull ring, punched them all back into the main horde. The power stone on Glogelder’s launcher whined. The drum of spell spheres whirred and clicked into place, and the big Aelf fired. The sphere arced over the bridge and exploded in the middle of the swarm. With a roar like thunder, the fiery shockwave sent small machines flying in all directions, and shattered the frozen bodies of the police officers on their knees, whilst setting aflame the rest of the dead.

  But the magic had as little effect on them as Samuel’s bullets. Before the firestorm had fully died, the automatons had regrouped and were swarming through the gate, small, fast, insectoid. Samuel didn’t bother replacing the empty magazine in his rifle, but, when the first of the horde reached the bridge, his prescient awareness knew exactly what to do next.

  ‘Everybody,’ he shouted, ‘get to the island! Glogelder – blow the bridge!’

  Glogelder didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the group joined Hillem on the floating island, the big Aelf turned, aimed the launcher low, and fired a spell sphere.

  Whatever magic had made the bridge feel unnaturally rigid disappeared as the sphere smashed halfway along its length and released its fiery spell. Wood shattered and burned, flaming rope snapped, and the two halves of the bridge fell away from each other. Against Samuel’s hopes, the scuttling automatons didn’t fall into the yawning chasm that suddenly opened between them and their prey; they clung to their side of the bridge that hung limp from the mainland of Sunflower. They clambered up, fleeing the flames and smoke that chased them.

  Regrouping on the mainland, the swarm scuttled away, scrambling over the dead bodies of burning police officers and supervisor Marca, back into the house from which they had appeared.

  ‘What was that?’ Samuel said angrily.

  ‘The
Toymaker,’ Glogelder replied. He pulled down his hood, revealing his scarred face. ‘I told you – you don’t see him coming. You only meet his toys.’

  ‘And right now he’ll be thinking of a way to get to us again,’ said Namji. She also pulled down her hood. ‘We have to leave.’

  The group approached the transformed Hillem, who had stepped away from the frozen bodies on the floor and now stood before the open doors of the cargo container. As Samuel slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle, Hillem holstered his pistol at his hip, quickly embraced Namji, and received a slap on the arm from Glogelder.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Hillem asked, nodding at Clara’s limp form slung over Van Bam’s shoulder.

  ‘She’s fine, Hillem,’ Namji said. ‘Now, please tell me everything’s set.

  Hillem nodded. ‘We’re all clear.’ He gazed across at the mainland and exhaled heavily. ‘For now.’

  ‘Good.’ Namji turned to Samuel and Van Bam. ‘It’s important you keep quiet in there,’ she said, jabbing a thumb at the open cargo container. ‘Officials can be paid to ask no questions, but if anyone suspects we’re transporting humans, no one’s going to let us pass. And we need to get through a few checkpoints. It should only take a couple of hours to reach our first stop.’

  ‘Which is where?’ Samuel said, sliding his rifle into the holster on his back.

  Namji shook her head. ‘Hillem’s going to travel with you. He’ll fill you in. Glogelder, you’re with me.’ She stood to one side and gestured to the empty container. ‘Let’s move.’

  Van Bam was the first to enter, carrying Clara into the container and laying her gently on the floor. Samuel followed, Hillem at his side.

  Namji stood in the doorway with Glogelder standing behind her, towering over her. ‘We’ll see you on the other side,’ she said.

  As the two Aelfir made to close the container doors, Van Bam stopped them.

  ‘Wait. The avatar has given you the benefit of peculiar insights that were not shared with us. Did it tell you the reason why the Genii have returned? What they are planning?’

  Namji was taken aback by this. ‘You … You don’t know?’

  ‘Do you think I would ask if I did?’ Van Bam sounded angry with her.

  Namji shared a glance first with Hillem and then with Glogelder before replying guardedly, ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  Her voice sounded small and frail. Samuel understood Namji harboured terrible news, and she didn’t want to be the one to break it.

  ‘We haven’t had time to breathe, let alone think,’ Samuel said from between clenched teeth, anxiety boiling in his gut. ‘The first warning we got was when Fabian Moor started taking Labrys Town apart. I haven’t got much patience left. Just answer the bloody question.’

  Namji hesitated.

  ‘Tell them,’ Glogelder said. ‘They have to know eventually.’

  Hillem gave a nod of agreement and averted his gaze.

  Namji moistened her lips, and her voice was filled with regret. ‘The Genii are planning to take what they’ve always wanted. The Houses of the Aelfir. But they can’t do it on their own. They want to find Oldest Place. They came back to free Spiral.’

  Forty Years Earlier

  The Way of the Blind Maze

  From the outside, the mighty citadel of Mirage was hidden from the naked eye, shrouded by a powerful spell of concealment. But within its walls, there were such sights to see.

  The bazaars of Mirage were a hive of colourful activity, dusty and stifling, bustling with Aelfir. Pairs of armed militia patrolled every street and narrow alley; the air was filled with the buzzing of voices and the rich scent of spices. Van Bam watched the bustle around him, enjoying the atmosphere as he read the dishonest body language of traders haggling over prices for their wares with customers who knew better than to believe the promises of bargains. There was an everyday sort of urgency about life in Mirage, and the Aelfir seemed too busy to show much interest – or surprise – in the human walking among them.

  ‘What about this one?’ Namji said.

  The young Aelf was standing at a jewellery stall. She wore a simple, light gown of white cotton, with a loose hood of the same material protecting her head from the sun. Her large green eyes stared shyly out from the hood as she held a pendant up to her throat. She had selected the piece from many items displayed on the stall. The wooden pendant, on a simple leather thong, was decorated with an intricate blue design.

  Van Bam stepped back and pretended to consider the pendant’s suitability.

  Earlier, after entering the citadel, Ambassador Ebril, his daughter, and his entourage, had quickly dispersed, eager to see their families and homes for the first time in two years. Van Bam and Angel had been led by armed guard through the streets of Mirage to the High Governor’s house. This grand and serious building, looking much like a small fort situated somewhere at the centre of the citadel, had thick and high walls, and was manned by armed sentries. Van Bam and Angel saw nothing of the plazas and gardens they had been told lay within the walls; they had been escorted directly to a plush guest apartment at the top of a tower accessed by a spiralling staircase. They had passed no one on the way, and Angel had speculated to Van Bam that they were being kept out of sight because the presence of the Relic Guild in this time of war was an embarrassment to High Governor Obanai.

  ‘Well?’ Namji said, jiggling the pendant. She obviously had no interest in purchasing the item and was fishing for a compliment.

  Van Bam played along. ‘I think it suits you perfectly.’

  With a pleased smile, Namji placed the pendant back onto the stall. ‘Maybe later,’ she said to the craggy old vendor, and then, linking her arm in Van Bam’s, began leading him through the marketplace.

  Van Bam and Angel had scarcely been given time to settle in the guest apartment before Namji had come calling. The young Aelf had said it would be a while before the Relic Guild were officially welcomed by the High Governor, but in the meantime it was customary to show visitors around the bazaars of Mirage. It was an invitation made to Van Bam alone, with Namji taking subtle measures to make it quite clear that it did not extend to Angel.

  Namji was young, but she was clever. Back in the Labyrinth, Marney had warned Van Bam that Ebril’s daughter was a devious customer; that she had secrets, and was not to be trusted. This private sojourn through the streets of Mirage was the perfect time for the illusionist to try to detect what it was Namji was hiding.

  ‘Forgive me, Van Bam,’ Namji said, and she giggled girlishly. ‘But compared with the rationing that the war has imposed upon Labrys Town, it must seem now as though the choices of all the Houses have been laid before you.’

  There was truth to that, Van Bam conceded.

  The stalls of the market traders lined both sides of the street, and voices were raised in argument and laughter, banter and barter. The textile merchants sold cuts of cloth as multi-coloured as the robes worn by prospective customers; butchers sold joints of dried and salted meats, while confectioners offered fruits and sugared nuts and all variety of other delicacies. Spirits and liqueurs were displayed in bottles of every shape and size and colour; wines and ales in dark wood caskets. Trinkets and jewellery, spices and herbs, perfumes and ointments – yes, compared to Labrys Town, it did indeed seem as though the citizens of Mirage had the choices of all the Aelfirian Houses before them.

  ‘You haven’t been to Mirage before, have you?’ Namji said.

  ‘I have not,’ Van Bam admitted. ‘Though Angel has.’

  ‘But what do you think, Van Bam? Do we make a good first impression?’

  ‘Mirage is a beautiful House,’ Van Bam said, choosing his words and tone carefully. ‘I only wish my visit coincided with a happier time.’

  Namji ensured her green eyes and shy smile were partially covered by the folds of her hood. ‘Me too.’

  Ambassador
Ebril had clearly trained his daughter well in the art of deception, and the illusionist would have to work hard to decipher this girl who would be so obvious in her affection for him.

  Arm in arm, they walked in silence until the street opened into a sizeable plaza devoid of market stalls. There were sentries, though, and many of them; each carried a rifle. Unlike the militia that patrolled the streets of Mirage, these sentries didn’t group together, or speak, and they stood to attention with unfaltering concentration.

  Portals – the sentries were guarding the portals of Mirage. There were four of them, placed at seemingly random positions around the plaza, but Van Bam knew there had once been others. Their absence felt as obvious to him as missing teeth in a mouth. The absent portals had been removed because they had led to Aelfirian Houses that had sided with Spiral in the war. Those that remained led to Houses that had fought for the Timewatcher.

  House Mirage had abstained from fighting in the war, though it retained its loyalty to the Timewatcher. Van Bam supposed that Mirage was shielded from the conflict by the Houses on the other side of the portals in the plaza. One of them led to Ghost Mist Veldt, another led to the Burrows of Underneath: two vast realms, embroiled in huge campaigns, the armies of both sides numbering in the millions. But of the last two portals, one led to the farms and plantations of Green Sky Forest, while the other led to the laboratories and weapons forges of the Floating Stones of Up and Down.

  Mirage’s part in the war was to act as a supply line, keeping the Timewatcher’s troops fed and stocked up with ammunition. If this House were ever to fall under the Genii’s control, it would give Spiral a new line of attack on four very important realms.

  Under the watchful eyes of the sentries, Van Bam and Namji skirted the plaza and joined another street where the market stalls began again, and the crowds of Aelfir were thicker than ever.

  ‘Tell me,’ Van Bam said as Namji studied the wares on a cloth merchant’s stall. ‘Why is it that you are not with your family at this time, celebrating your homecoming?’