by Edward Cox
Angel looked along the table, past the line of Aelfir, and discreetly rolled her eyes at Van Bam.
Namji was not Ambassador Ebril’s daughter. The secret that she had been keeping – that everyone around her had been keeping – was that she had been born to a far nobler family. Namji was High Governor Obanai’s only child and heir, destined to be known one day as High Governess Namji, the ruler of House Mirage.
‘The deceit was necessary,’ Ebril had explained to Van Bam earlier. ‘It was for Namji’s safety.’
And to better prepare her for her birthright, he had added. Posing as Ebril’s daughter would allow Namji to experience the grittier side of inter-House relationships undistorted by the privileges and niceties usually bestowed upon the nobility. Van Bam fully understood, agreed, that this ploy would give Namji understanding of a more truthful – perhaps harsher – side of the political life she would one day come to inherit. But the illusionist had also pointed out that, when the war began, the Nightshade should’ve been made aware that one of its refugees was the future ruler of an Aelfirian House. Namji would have been afforded better protection; possibly a return to her own House might have been arranged much earlier than the two years she’d had to wait. But Ebril had shaken his head at these words.
‘On the rare occasions that I received any message from Mirage, I was instructed to maintain the pretence,’ Ebril had said with an apologetic air. ‘The High Governor and his wife decided that Labrys Town, protected by the Timewatcher as it is, was the best place to shield their daughter from the war.’
To Van Bam, Ebril seemed to be making excuses for his High Governor: a diplomatic answer given by a master diplomat.
Now, sitting near the end of the table, wedged between her mother and Angel, the young Namji had not only lost her secret but also her flirtatious air; she was refusing to make eye contact with Van Bam. Was it merely the official nature of the banquet that made her appear miserable? Her mother, Governess Vael, seemed equally unhappy. Looking much like an older copy of her daughter, she sat with a rigid back, kept all conversation to a minimum, and showed no interest in anyone around her. The reunion between mother and daughter did not appear to be a joyous one.
As for High Governor Obanai, Van Bam suspected he was utterly humourless. He had watched the string quartet showing neither pleasure nor displeasure on his gaunt Aelfirian features. Tall and lean, with a beard neater and less grey than Ebril’s, Obanai seemed a little younger than his ambassador. He wore white robes and headscarves inlaid with golden thread. His large eyes were brown and calculating. Thus far, he had addressed the Relic Guild agents directly only once, and that was to offer vague thanks for returning his daughter and ambassador to his House.
Van Bam noticed Angel try and fail again to make conversation with Namji and her mother. Catching Van Bam’s eye she gave him a slight shrug. Van Bam returned the gesture. He was beginning to feel the magickers were being kept apart on purpose. With a frown, he surveyed the banquet hall.
Beneath glow spheres that hung from golden chains, the tables had been laid out in a rough semicircle, leaving a clear area of floor in which the musicians played. Around fifty guests attended the banquet, enjoying generous offerings: platters of seasoned meats and herb breads, fruits, nuts and vegetables, jugs filled with wine and ale and water – more food and drink than this gathering could consume at a single banquet.
Around the hall, hanging on the wall spaces between ornate sandstone pillars, tapestries depicted moments from House Mirage’s history. And in front of the tapestries, guards stood with rifles hanging from their shoulders, watching the guests.
The Aelfir of Mirage were hard for Van Bam to read. Considering this gathering was to celebrate Ebril and Namji’s homecoming, the atmosphere was oddly subdued. There was a low hum of chatter beneath the lilting string music, but the way most of the guests went about their meals with polite conversation, wearing obviously fake smiles, avoiding eye contact with each other, made the illusionist wonder if this room was filled with people who didn’t much like each other.
Van Bam glanced quickly at the three armed guards standing behind the High Governor’s table, and then at the Aelfir with whom he sat at the table. Just when he decided that this was going to be a long night, he saw Governess Vael break her silence and engage Angel in conversation. And then, as the string quartet finished their piece, acknowledging light applause before beginning a new tune, High Governor Obanai also decided to speak.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began. His voice was low but perfectly pitched for the ears of the Relic Guild agent and the ambassador. ‘Having been informed of Ursa’s conduct, and the unfortunate events which led to his demise, I think we can all agree this is a troubling time.’
‘Yes, High Governor,’ Ebril replied formally. He looked at Van Bam. ‘The very idea that a citizen of from Mirage would align with the Genii, and bring the wrath of the Timewatcher upon our House, is as terrifying as it is abhorrent to us.’
Perhaps especially for the ambassador, Van Bam reasoned. Ursa had, after all, been a member of Ebril’s entourage.
‘High Governor,’ the illusionist said, ‘The Relic Guild’s mission is not to accuse Mirage, but to discover if Ursa was working alone or for someone else in your House.’
‘Ah …’ Although Obanai still didn’t look at Van Bam, a smile had quirked his small lips. ‘You search for a rat hiding in this nest of snakes that you see enjoying my food while concealing their disdain behind fake smiles.’
Van Bam looked over the guests. ‘Perhaps.’
Obanai scoffed. ‘My family has ruled this House for eleven generations, and we have occasionally had to fight to maintain our position. Every single person here belongs to a respected family that would gladly try to supplant me if I turned my back for even a moment. But would any of them betray the Timewatcher to attain the governorship of Mirage?’
His tone of voice was unconvinced, and Van Bam saw doubt creep into his body language. ‘I honestly can’t decide if your list of suspects is long or short, Master Van Bam.’
‘High Governor,’ Van Bam said. ‘Ambassador Ebril told me that before the war exiled him to the Labyrinth a delicate situation had emerged in Mirage. A conflict that was kept in-House?’
‘You were told correctly,’ Obanai stated, but offered nothing else.
Ebril cleared his throat and leant into Van Bam. ‘Such conflicts are not unusual, but neither are they considered polite dinner conversation.’ He gestured meaningfully at the banquet guests.
‘Forgive me, gentlemen,’ Van Bam said, keeping his voice low, but with a hint of steel. ‘I was given no details of Mirage’s problems, but it was implied they were directly connected to Ursa and the Genii who is loose in Labrys Town. Therefore, I’m sure you’ll agree, the nature of our investigation demands a touch of urgency, yes?’
Ebril chuckled politely, almost embarrassed. ‘Van Bam—’
‘It’s all right, Ebril,’ said Obanai. ‘I’ve nothing to hide anymore.’ He would not look at Van Bam as he spoke. ‘But first, I would like to know about this Genii that Ursa brought to Labrys Town – this Fabian Moor. What precautions have been taken to prevent him seizing control of the Nightshade and conquering the Labyrinth?’
‘I am afraid that I am forbidden to reveal specific details, High Governor,’ Van Bam replied. ‘Needless to say, the Relic Guild has taken the matter into hand.’
‘Magickers against a Genii?’ Obanai said dubiously. ‘No, no, no – I suspect Lady Amilee, or another Thaumaturgist, has better prepared the Relic Guild for this occasion?’
It appeared the High Governor was seeking comfort. For a member of his House to have loyalties to Spiral was one thing; to be responsible for the traitor who might ignite events that led to the downfall of the Labyrinth was entirely another. Obanai wanted – needed – to know that Ursa’s mess was being cleared away.
‘As I said
,’ Van Bam assured him, ‘the matter is in hand, High Governor, and – yes – the Relic Guild has been well prepared for dealing with Fabian Moor. Perhaps now you might tell me about this conflict your ambassador spoke of?’
‘Of course.’ Obanai nodded, his eyes scanning his guests. ‘It came to a head before the war began. I believed back then it had been resolved, but this is not the first time it has come back to haunt me. It is a long story, I’m afraid.’ He sighed. ‘Ebril, perhaps you would care to explain further.’
‘As you wish, High Governor.’ Ebril cleared his throat again. ‘A few months before the war began, there was a rumour of a lone man roaming the desert. He dwelt in the mountains close to the west of the citadel. The people of Mirage began calling him the Hermit.’
‘He lived outside the citadel?’ Van Bam said, sounding surprised. ‘I was led to believe that no one could survive the hostility of your desert.’
‘True enough,’ said Ebril. ‘We tried to communicate with the Hermit on several occasions, but he either disappeared from sight, or simply couldn’t be found. It was clear that he was surviving by preternatural means.’
‘A magic-user?’
‘And one of skill. He became quite a legend. In fact, it was said his power was so great that many began speculating that the Hermit was in actuality the Wanderer.’
‘The Wanderer?’ Van Bam said in surprise. ‘You mean Lord Wolfe, the Thaumaturgist?’
‘The very same,’ said Ebril. ‘Though it proved to be wild rumour, and I suppose to speculate on the Hermit’s true identity in this way now seems a little in bad taste. I’m sure you will agree.’
Van Bam nodded. Lord Wolfe, known to the Aelfir as the Wanderer, was a Skywatcher who had been killed by the Genii at a House called the Falls of Dust and Silver. Known as a benevolent Thaumaturgist, his name had become legendary because his murder was Spiral’s first strike against the Timewatcher, the act that started the war.
‘At first it appeared there was nothing the Hermit wanted,’ Ebril continued. ‘He was content to roam, no more than a charming curiosity of the desert. However, shortly before I undertook a diplomatic trip to Labrys Town and was stranded there by the war, the Hermit revealed his true intent—’
‘I do not know where he came from,’ Obanai interrupted, with no small degree of bitterness in his voice, ‘but there is blood on his hands, Master Van Bam. He tried to steal this House from me.’
Obanai fell silent again, clearly simmering, and Ebril took up the story once more.
‘As I said, for the longest time the Hermit was no more than a curiosity. But then he decided to stage a coup. With his magic, he coerced some of Mirage’s citizens into taking arms against the High Governor’s family. The uprising was short lived, but there were a lot of deaths.’
‘My people died in the Hermit’s name,’ Obanai said lowly. ‘If only he had died with them.’
‘He never set foot in the citadel himself, you see,’ Ebril explained. ‘He cast his magic from the desert, and allowed his followers to perish. At that time, he had only ever been seen from afar. After the failed uprising, he … vanished.’
The ambassador was thoughtful for a moment. ‘As I told you, although I could send no message home from the Labyrinth during my exile, I occasionally received reports from Mirage via the Nightshade. They were ciphered, of course, but a few of them mentioned that the Hermit had been spotted again, lingering in the desert, watching the citadel. And then, after hearing of Ursa’s crimes, I suspected that not all of the Hermit’s followers had died in the uprising.’
‘Misdirection,’ Obanai snorted. ‘The Hermit used the coup to conceal his real goal. ’
Van Bam looked from one Aelf to the other.
‘Please understand,’ Ebril added quickly. ‘Challenges to the ruling family are not uncommon in Mirage. It was easy to suppose that the coup was the Hermit’s intent. But Ursa’s actions point to a more sinister motivation. The Hermit hid him well, Van Bam. Ursa was the son of minor nobility, a trusted member of my entourage who never gave me reason to question his loyalty to Mirage and the Timewatcher.’
‘The Hermit must have subjugated him,’ Obanai growled. ‘He sent Ursa to the Great Labyrinth with a mission to bring Fabian Moor to Labrys Town, I’m sure of it. And I would be very surprised if Ursa was the last of the Hermit’s followers hiding among my people, waiting for orders.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Van Bam, looking puzzled. ‘If you believe Ursa was acting under the Hermit’s orders, and if the Hermit’s magic is as powerful as you say, then it was … higher magic? The Hermit is a Genii?’
‘No,’ said Obanai. ‘But perhaps no less an abomination.’
Ebril added, ‘While I was away, there were a few failed attempts to hunt and kill the Hermit. A few of the militia briefly had him in their sights. They report seeing the strangest of men. Ten feet tall, they said. Skin as pale as the desert moon and covered in the telltale scars of a blood-magicker.’
‘A blood-magicker?’
For the first time, High Governor Obanai turned to face the illusionist, his Aelfirian eyes serious. ‘They say the Hermit is a Nephilim.’
Obanai and Ebril joined the rest of the guests again offering polite applause to the quartet of musicians, who had finished their final piece and were now taking their bows. Van Bam looked down the table at Angel. The healer was looking back at him, her expression alive with bemusement; perhaps she had learned the same information as Van Bam, from Governess Vael.
The Nephilim. Van Bam knew their reputation well. They were a race of nomadic giants who roamed through the realms of the Aelfir as a single clan, without a House to call their own. Their origins were unknown, but they were feared because they were powerful blood-magickers. Such a race would make a fearsome ally for Spiral and the Genii. But only one?
‘Forgive me, gentlemen,’ Van Bam said. ‘I have heard tales of the Nephilim, but I have never known anyone who has actually seen them. Can the word of your soldiers be trusted on this?’
Ebril shrugged. ‘It’s true to say that the desert sun can play many tricks on the mind of an Aelf.’ He joined the crowd in giving the string quartet a second round of applause, as they carried their instruments to the doors on the far side of the banquet hall and left. ‘Who knows for certain what those soldiers saw?’
‘Whether he is a Nephilim or not,’ the High Governor said, his voice hard, ‘I believe the Hermit is still out there, hiding in the desert. And I am quite convinced that he is loyal to Spiral, and that Ursa was his servant, Master Van Bam.’
‘Perhaps you are right, High Governor.’
‘Be assured that my magic-users protect the citadel from the spells of blood-magic. Our walls are guarded night and day, as are the portals of Mirage. We have done all we can to ensure the Hermit cannot reach those portals and mount an attack on our neighbouring Houses. But you must understand that the real threat could come from within our walls, where the Hermit’s followers might hide.’
Obanai sighed and his eyes scoured his guests before returning to Van Bam. ‘I beseech you, Master Van Bam – you and your colleague – help me to clear my family’s name in the eyes of the Timewatcher. Help us to uncover the truth of the Hermit before this infernal war reaches my House.’
Perhaps the war is already here, Van Bam thought, but said, ‘Of course, High Governor. We all serve the Timewatcher.’
‘I am relieved to hear you say it,’ Obanai said, and with unexpected effortlessness his manner reverted to that of the serious, taciturn ruler of House Mirage. ‘You must conduct your investigations in whatever way you see fit,’ he continued. ‘You will receive the full cooperation of my people. And Ambassador Ebril will remain as your consultant – won’t you, old friend?’
‘My duty and my pleasure, High Governor,’ Ebril replied.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ Obanai told Van Bam, ‘I will arrange
for you to send a report to the Labyrinth. You must, of course, tell the Resident of Labrys Town everything. Withhold nothing.’
Van Bam nodded. ‘I appreciate your call for candour, High Governor.’
Obanai surveyed his guests again and sighed. ‘But for the rest of this night – please, try to enjoy our hospitality.’
At that moment, a slew of excited whispers buzzed through the banquet guests. The doors to the banquet hall had opened, and a huge glass tank was wheeled through it by a broad figure hidden beneath a heavy hooded cloak. The glass tank stood eight feet tall, and at least five feet wide and deep. Inside, the bottom foot or more had been filled with coppery sand. With the tank positioned at the centre of the floor, surrounded by the tables of excited guests, the cloaked figure stepped forward and bowed to the High Governor and his family.
‘Do not be afraid.’ It was a man’s voice, whispery, mysterious, yet loud enough for all to hear. ‘They say there is one who cannot be trusted. They say he is the keeper of the desert’s secrets, and only he knows how the desert lies!’
The cloaked man flashed out a hand. There was a crack, and a burst of light. A few gasps came from the audience as a second man appeared, standing inside the tank upon the sand.
A wry smile cut through Van Bam’s thoughts of giants roaming a desert plain as he recognised the man in the tank. It was Master Buyaal, the coppion merchant from the bazaar.
Dressed in only a loincloth, his body tanned and oiled, his facial tattoos glistening in the light, Buyaal turned full circle, glaring enigmatically, theatrically at the audience through the glass. When he came to face the head table once more, he opened his arms wide, his fingers stroking the glass walls either side of him.
The cloaked man addressed the hall again. ‘There is danger in what you are about to witness,’ his whispery voice said. ‘Buyaal, Master of the Desert, requests your silence.’
The guests fell into a hush.
As the cloaked man stood to one side and bowed his hooded head, Van Bam looked along the High Governor’s table. Considering that earlier Namji had spoken ebulliently about Buyaal’s show, she now appeared vastly uninterested – as did her mother and father. Angel seemed curious enough, but the only person at the table who seemed genuinely delighted by the spectacle was Ambassador Ebril.
