The Cathedral of Known Things

by Edward Cox

  ‘I’m going to call in every favour to gather allies, and use every trick I know, blackmail councillors into supporting me if I have to. When the Houses gather, I will stand up and address the entire Panopticon. By the time I have finished, they will all know that the Genii have returned, and the full horror of what they are planning to do.’ Tal gritted his teeth. ‘Every House ruler will understand that the agents of the Relic Guild are risking their lives, as they always have, to protect all of us.’

  Tal paused to cut the trawler’s engine and steer the boat towards a jetty near the base of Little Sibling.

  The elderly Aelf peered at Samuel’s shadowed face. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on the Sisterhood for a very long time. I’m going to call each member out, if necessary, reveal every dirty little secret that I’ve ever collected on them and publicly shame them into doing what’s right.’

  Samuel saw fire in the elderly Aelf ’s face, perhaps catching a glimpse of the dangerous person Tal had been during the war. ‘Will it work?’ the old bounty hunter said. ‘Do you think they’ll hear you?’

  ‘I have to pray that someone will,’ Tal replied as he brought the trawler to a halt against the jetty with a gentle bump. ‘This isn’t just about Labrys Town, Samuel. Spiral, the Genii, the Retrospective – this threatens everything. But, for what it’s worth, I will stand by the denizens of Labrys Town until I am no longer able to stand. You have my word on that.’

  And Samuel believed him.

  ‘But for now,’ Tal added, ‘you need to trust me. I can’t pretend to understand the avatar’s methods, or why it separated you from Clara and Van Bam, but I do understand that only the Relic Guild can stop Spiral and the Genii. Focus on that, Samuel. Let me worry about everything else.’

  Samuel stared out morosely at the dark waters of the River Bells, feeling acutely the absence of his magic.

  Namji stuck her head into the control room. ‘Are we ready?’ she said.

  Hillem and Glogelder stood behind her.

  With anxiety gnawing at his stomach, Samuel tried to summon his resolve. ‘I suppose so,’ he said, and gave Tal an appreciative nod.

  When Samuel disembarked he leaned back and peered up the length of the giant clock tower of Little Sibling. He was so close to its huge base that he couldn’t see the moon of its clock face. The jetty was broken in places, obviously unused for years, and a little rickety. Dodging the holes in the wooden planks, Tal led the way, holding a glow lamp.

  The old riverside path was lined by trees and foliage, overgrown and thick, and it gave no hint of the buildings beyond. The foliage ended where Little Sibling began, and Tal took them down a second path that ran alongside the clock tower’s base. The glow lamp swung, and shadows danced in the pale, violet light.

  ‘There aren’t many people left alive who remember this path,’ the councillor said. ‘It hasn’t been used since the end of the Genii War. Here we are.’

  He came to a halt at the thick metal bars of a gate.

  ‘This is the secret entrance to the old dungeons,’ Tal explained. ‘It was last used to smuggle war criminals down to the cells – people whom we had decided didn’t deserve a fair trial. None of them saw the light of day again.’

  As Tal inspected the gate in the light of the glow lamp, Samuel wondered how many of those war criminals had disappeared because of the elderly councillor.

  ‘A few of us were given special power stones that would release the magic on this gate’s locking mechanism,’ Tal said. ‘But even if I still had mine, I don’t think it would be much use anymore.’ He gave the gate a half-hearted shake. ‘The magic probably faded years ago, but the lock and hinges are completely rusted up.’ He looked back at Samuel. ‘As an agent of the Relic Guild, you must be prepared for such an occasion?’

  From a pouch on his utility belt, Samuel removed a phial of acid. Metal hissed and melted as he dripped its contents onto the lock and hinges. After carefully returning the phial to his utility belt, Samuel motioned for Glogelder to help him. Together they pulled the heavy gate from the tunnel entrance, and set it aside.

  ‘And this is where I leave you, I’m afraid,’ Tal said, handing the glow lamp to Hillem. ‘Just follow the tunnel. It leads straight to the dungeon’s entrance.’

  ‘Once again, Councillor, thank you for your help,’ said Namji.

  ‘My pleasure,’ Tal replied, and then to Samuel: ‘Whatever you find down there, whatever happens next – good luck.’

  ‘And to you,’ Samuel replied earnestly.

  The elderly Aelf offered his hand, and the old bounty hunter shook it. Samuel missed his magic. He missed Van Bam and Clara.

  Tal looked slowly from person to person. ‘Goodbye, my friends,’ he said sadly. ‘I hope to see you again.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three Truths and an Echo

  Van Bam remembered the Museum of Aelfirian Heritage. He remembered stepping through the doorway. But he didn’t know where he was now.

  He couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t move. Paralysed, he was staring into the face of a man no more than a foot away. The man’s features filled Van Bam’s vision with a clarity of colours and detail that he had not experienced in forty years – not since before he lost his eyes. And the man was staring back at the illusionist, into him, through him.

  Van Bam tried to summon Gideon, but he could not remember how to use his voice, not even in thought. And he knew that none of his colleagues were with him. Somehow he realised that he was not really standing before the man; Van Bam’s mind had been hijacked.

  The man was a Thaumaturgist; the diamond tattooed onto his forehead was starkly black against a weathered face much older-looking than Van Bam had ever seen on a creature of higher magic. He did not wear the usual elegant purple robe of a Thaumaturgist, but a simple russet habit, cheap and itchy-looking. His hair was unruly and thinning, beard long and grey. His appearance did not seem natural to Van Bam, more the parts of a carefully constructed exterior. It was an inoffensive look, belonging to a pauper, a harmless vagabond. But at that moment, the man looked desolate.

  A detached and alien part of Van Bam recognised the raggedy Thaumaturgist, and he knew his name belonged to a dead man, the Skywatcher known as the Wanderer. Lord Baran Wolfe.

  Still staring at Van Bam, Lord Wolfe moved back a few paces. The view revealed he was in some kind of amphitheatre, or auditorium. Stone steps, flanked by rows of bench seats, descended to a floor of dusty wooden boards. The ceiling was an artistic mural depicting men and women addressing an audience. Van Bam could see the far end of the auditorium had no wall. Five thick pillars stood before a barren landscape of rocks and mountains beneath a giant sun that drained all colour from the sky. The landscape was pale grey, the colour of skin dust. In the distance, mighty falls spilled from mountain plateaus, but not falls of water: a thick and grainy substance dropped from the mountaintops, sparkling beneath the sun like a hundred thousand stars cascading into deep ravines.

  Van Bam knew this House.

  Baran Wolfe, the old vagabond Thaumaturgist, stared wearily at the illusionist.

  ‘My dear Lady Amilee,’ Wolfe said. ‘Not so long ago, you told me that I was a fool. You told me that I was wrong – paranoid, you called me. How I wish I was paranoid, my lady. How I wish I was foolish and wrong. How I wish you were right.’

  Van Bam could only watch and listen. Somehow he knew he was listening to a voice of the past. By a twist of magic, the illusionist had become trapped inside a recording device, hearing a message recorded decades ago.

  Wolfe sighed. ‘Against your advice, I have been following the clues that I gleaned from my divinations. But as we discussed, my lady – the skies have not been quite as forthcoming of late as you believe. But, I have deciphered enough to know three things for certain, three whispers from the skies that speak of truths that have already come to pass. And somehow these t
hree truths have been concealed from us.

  ‘The first speaks of a House that is hidden from our sight within the Nothing of Far and Deep. It is called the Cathedral of Doubt and Wonder, and, no matter what I try, how hard I search, it proves impossible to find. The second is a device that is kept secret at the Cathedral of Doubt and Wonder. I do not know what this device is for, but it is called Known Things, and I am positive that it holds the answers to all the mysteries that have been plaguing my dreams for far too long now.’

  Wolfe paused and his face flushed angrily. ‘The third truth is by far the most disturbing. I know what you would tell me, my lady, but …’ Wolfe closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, perhaps steeling himself. ‘After we disagreed at our last meeting, I decided to continue my investigations, regardless of your advice. Much has happened between then and now, and I have finally gained clarity.’

  Lord Wolfe’s eyes welled with tears. It was the saddest thing Van Bam had ever seen.

  ‘Treasured Lady,’ Wolfe continued, ‘my fellow Skywatcher, my friend.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Every vision the sky has tried to show me, every clue it has tried to whisper, has led me here to this House. And if this message sphere has reached you, then you were wrong, my dear Yansas Amilee, and I was so very, terribly, right. The Trinity of Skywatchers has failed—’

  Wolfe stiffened and looked over his shoulder. ‘Ah, the time has come.’

  Turning away, Wolfe leapt. His silver wings flashed from his robe and stretched wide, sleek and fluid, strong and graceful, each as long as the Skywatcher’s arm span. Wolfe glided upon them, over the benches, down towards the wooden floor.

  Van Bam felt a lurch, a change inside him, as though his consciousness had become nothing more than a memory of who he used to be; and suddenly, dizzyingly, he was an echo of Van Bam inside the mind of Baran Wolfe the Wanderer, thinking his thoughts, seeing through the Skywatcher’s eyes, feeling with his skin, as he came to land, and folded silver wings upon his back.

  Clasping his hands before him, Wolfe stared across the floor, facing the five pillars at the open end of the auditorium. The echo of Van Bam knew who Wolfe was waiting for.

  And he had arrived.

  Borne on wings of silver, a man landed gracefully at the edge of the floor just beyond the great pillars. Against the light, he was nothing more than a tall and broad silhouette. He folded his wings, but remained where he was. When he spoke, his voice was rich, cultured, stronger and more commanding than any voice belonging to a creature of higher magic.

  ‘Baran Wolfe,’ he said, ‘Honoured Lord of the Thaumaturgists. Welcome to the Falls of Dust and Silver.’

  ‘You have been expecting me, my lord?’ Wolfe replied, afraid but calm.

  ‘Since the beginning.’

  With a light chuckle, the man stepped past the pillars and into the auditorium, away from the harsh glare of the light. Walking with a slow but confident step, he wore a black, flowing skirt, the hem skimming the floor, swirling with each step, giving fleeting glimpses of bare feet. From the waist up, he was naked, the smooth skin and muscles of his torso decorated with black tattoos: strangely designed symbols, glyphs, shapes that comprised the language of the Thaumaturgists. His head was bald, shaved smooth, but he boasted a thick black beard. His eyes were such a bright and clear violet they practically shone from his lean, chiselled face, utterly devoid of emotion.

  Simultaneously beautiful and terrible, Spiral, First Lord of the Thaumaturgists, made his way towards Wolfe.

  The echo of Van Bam panicked.

  ‘What have you done to yourself, Iblisha?’ Wolfe said, using Spiral’s true name. His voice, frail with age, was sad, regretful. ‘Where is your mark of higher magic? Your promise to serve the Timewatcher?’

  ‘My dear, dear Baran,’ Spiral replied. He gently touched a finger to a wound on his forehead; a fresh burn mark, red and wet, where a black diamond tattoo had once been. ‘I made the decision to break my promise some time ago. I am free from the Timewatcher’s restraints.’

  Wolfe seemed close to tears. ‘You betray our Mother. Break the Trinity of Skywatchers. Why, Iblisha?’

  ‘There are many reason I could give,’ Spiral replied. ‘Perhaps I should start with power.’

  ‘Power?’ said Wolfe. ‘My lord, you are the Timewatcher’s favoured son. You are the strongest and wisest among us. How much more power do you need?’

  ‘The kind that comes with freedom, Baran. Don’t you ever question the status quo? Don’t you believe in change?’

  ‘I believe in the way things are.’

  ‘Then you place your faith in stagnation.’

  The violet colour of Spiral’s eyes flared and dimmed as he advanced to within several paces of Wolfe. Physically, he was already taller, broader than his fellow Skywatcher; but the depth of higher magic he radiated made him seem larger still. The echo of Van Bam felt his presence weighing down on him, heavy, ancient, like a judge’s gavel preparing to strike.

  ‘For a thousand years the Timewatcher has forced us to uphold this ridiculous charade of equality,’ Spiral said. ‘I tire of pretending to be less than I am, and I say no more.’

  ‘What do you hope to achieve?’ Wolfe said. ‘What will this power of freedom gain you?’

  ‘To begin with, I will make the millions – billions – of Aelfir out there understand that they have never been my equal.’

  An ember of anger bloomed into life within Baran Wolfe. ‘You speak as though equality diminishes your strength, Iblisha.’ His voice was quiet. ‘It does not. It diminishes the need for oppression and war. It creates peace.’

  Spiral’s amusement was evident. ‘Do you know what the greatest trick the Timewatcher ever played is, Baran? She convinced the Aelfir that their lives are wrapped around genuine freedom and choice, that they are masters of their own destinies. I will use my freedom to dispel such delusions.’

  ‘You seek to abuse your position,’ Wolfe countered.

  ‘With respect, I disagree,’ Spiral said dangerously. ‘I once begged the Timewatcher to see sense. Rule, I told Her. Rule as any hierarch should. Do away with this façade of gentle benevolence that asks only for love and faith in return for all you give. Demand worship and loyalty from the lower creatures, I said. Teach the Aelfir their true place. Force them down onto their knees while they pray to you!’

  As Spiral spoke, the passion in his voice had risen like fire. The tattoos of the thaumaturgic language darkened upon his naked torso, as if the ink itself had come from a black void. The echo of Van Bam willed Baran Wolfe to step away from Spiral, to flee from this auditorium in the Falls of Dust and Silver.

  ‘But would She listen to me, Baran?’ Spiral took a calming breath. ‘The Timewatcher is no ruler, She is a peacekeeper. She has enforced her power, yet does nothing with it, and She has made us vulnerable as a result. I will not wait another thousand years, hoping for change, while playing along with this lie of equality. Baran, before the end, the Timewatcher’s hypocrisy will have the Thaumaturgists bending at the waist to the creatures of lower magic.’

  Boldly, defiantly, Wolfe took two steps towards his fellow Skywatcher. ‘Does your belief extend to the humans?’ he asked.

  ‘Humans,’ Spiral snorted. ‘What is the point of their existence?’

  The ember of anger inside Wolfe became a bed of hot coals. ‘Did you use the same reasoning to justify the ambushing of the Nephilim herd, my lord?’

  Spiral’s thick beard parted as he showed Wolfe his clenched teeth; his beauty seemed all the more terrifying. ‘What – you believe I should treat those abominations as equals, too?’ He shook his head, disappointed. ‘You speak of lesser beings as though they deserve our compassion, Lord Wolfe, like the old and blind fool you are.

  ‘You think that the humans are competent, perhaps? The Timewatcher did not give them the Great Labyrinth because of their benevolence and wisdom, yo
u know. She did it because of their weakness. She said their inability to wield and abuse the boundless thaumaturgy She had imbued into the Labyrinth made them perfect custodians. The humans are nothing but caretakers.’

  Spiral took two steps towards Wolfe. ‘The Great Labyrinth should have belonged to the Thaumaturgists from the moment it was completed. And once I have rid the Houses of our Mother’s hypocrisy, I will take the Labyrinth from the humans, and use it to rule the Aelfir. The Timewatcher has had her day.’

  Wolfe took a step back. Sadness doused the rising heat inside him, his disillusion battling against acceptance. ‘Iblisha, you will bring us to war.’

  ‘Yes. I have seen it.’ Spiral’s violet eyes flashed with fervour. ‘I do not stand alone, Baran.’ He gestured around the amphitheatre, to the glittering world outside. ‘The Falls of Dust and Silver is not the only Aelfirian House to support me. Many others agree that it is time a new regime ruled the realms. And there are more creatures of higher magic who also believe the time of our Mother is at an end.’

  Wolfe licked his lips. ‘Other Thaumaturgists have turned against the Timewatcher?’ The echo of Van Bam was terrified. ‘Who?’

  ‘There are more than you would likely believe, Baran,’ said Spiral. ‘I have my army, I have my generals, and we are ready to strike.’

  ‘How was this possible?’ Wolfe breathed. ‘How did you hide this from me, from Lady Amilee, from the Timewatcher Herself?’

  Pride came to Spiral’s face. ‘Yes, I suspect the skies have been a little difficult for you to read of late. I have been planning for this moment for so very long.’

  Spiral beckoned to someone behind Wolfe. The Wanderer turned as he heard footsteps. The man approaching wore a black cassock and his long hair, straight and white, fell about his shoulders. Like Spiral, he had a fresh wound on his forehead where he had burned the black diamond of higher magic from his skin with acid.