by Toby Frost
“Where they hang ribbons from the trees?” Giulia remembered it from the journey to Averrio. She hadn’t stayed very long. Something about it had struck her as wrong, unsuited to her.
“That’s the one. Well, the world is full of places like that. Where this world and Faery overlap.”
“That’s right.” Hugh stretched out and yawned. “There’s a place in Cerno where, if a man sleeps on midwinter night, King Alba’s ghost appears and challenges him.”
Giulia thought of Hugh praying in a field, and realised, You know about this pagan stuff, don’t you?
“Exactly,” Sethis said. “Places of overlap. To the east of here is a district called Cerandi.”
“I know the name,” Giulia said.
“It’s near where I grew up. When I was young, Cerandi had a reputation for – well, not heresy as such, but leniency in religious matters. There was a tradition in one village, for example, that at midsummer one of their young women would—”
Arashina said something in her own language: one long, lisping word.
“Right,” Sethis said, “anyway, in Cerandi, there used to be a sect called the Berendanti. There weren’t many of them – a few hundred, perhaps a thousand. They worshipped your god, they had a church and a priest, but they were close to us as well. We would come and visit them, and celebrate with them when they drew the harvest in.” He frowned. “They had the blessing of our Lord and Lady as well as your god, and it granted them certain abilities. They could change shape.”
Giulia sat up. “Go on.”
“The Berendanti could pass into our land without a guide, into Faery. It wasn’t easy for them, but their elders could do it in summer and winter. People called them ‘wise walkers’. But because the border was weak where they lived, creatures from our land sometimes ventured into theirs. Harmful creatures; spirits. The Berendanti learned to change shape to fight them off.”
“Into wolves?” Giulia said.
“Wolves, bears, horses, even into birds, some of them. Even we cannot do that. The favours of the gods are strange.” The dryad smiled sadly. “Then the war came, and the purges. The Inquisition burned their villages to the ground. Some escaped, some we took with us when we destroyed our gate.”
“Your gate?”
“The pathway to the forest. Like the wood in the Scola gardens. Those we took with us are dead now, but they died peacefully, at least.”
“So what happened to the others, the ones that didn’t get away?”
“Most were taken alive. We didn’t see them again.” Sethis stopped and glanced up at the trees, as if he had only just noticed how tall they were. “Sometimes,” he said, “you make friends with strangers, even though they are very different to you. Perhaps because of it. At any rate, I had a friend among the Berendanti. The soldiers took her away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Giulia said.
“It was near the end of the war, when the Inquisition turned on the Berendanti. By then, the smarter inquisitors knew that they were going to lose. They needed anything they could get, I suppose, any advantage, no matter how heretical it might have seemed when they started out. So they took the Berendanti to their alchemists, and tried to become like them.” Sethis had stopped talking to them now. He looked out into the trees. “I would like to think my friend told them nothing,” he said. “But it’s hard to tell. I wouldn’t know which pile of ashes to ask,” he added, and Giulia could hear the rage wound up tight behind his voice.
“The Berendanti tried to strike a deal with the Inquisition,” Arashina observed. “But in all things, your god is cruel. And the Inquis never leave a man alive when they could murder him instead.”
“So that’s what the things we saw are, then?” Giulia said. “Inquisition men?”
Sethis said, “The older ones would be. They’ll probably have younger men working for them, though – too young to have been soldiers. I expect that they would just be criminals.”
Arashina leaned forward. “The one we are looking for is called Leth. He is an alchemist, a sort of apothecary. He learned how to turn the soldiers into what you saw. He was unusual, in that he had no desire to make himself rich. But Leth was one of the worst. He was very old, and evil long before he found the Inquisitors. He kept himself alive with alchemy, you see.”
“Leth,” Giulia said. “So he’s their leader.”
Sethis shook his head. “I very much doubt it. Leth is in hiding. He has been for a long time. He was ancient when the Inquis recruited him: by now, he would look nothing like a human being.”
“But he’s the one you’re looking for,” Giulia said.
Arashina nodded. “Among others.”
“So who was the man I saw?”
“We don’t know.”
It occurred to Giulia that she was the youngest person at the table, perhaps by several decades. This is an old man’s fight, she thought. All of them seemed like relics suddenly: Hugh with his aging friends, Sethis with his burning villages, Arashina with her undying alchemist. They all bore old wounds, scars from a war that had finished almost before she had been born.
Sethis poured himself a fresh cup of wine. “I never was one for vendettas, you know. I couldn’t see the point in something like that. After all, when there’s a war, most people just get on with their lives once it’s over. You have to carry on. There’s no point brooding over things, just poisoning yourself.” He paused. “But sometimes—”
“Sometimes you can’t help it,” Giulia said.
The dryad nodded slowly. “Right. You just can’t.”
For the first time she realised that she could understand him. Old scores or not, perhaps they could get along.
“Fair enough,” she said. “You’ve levelled with me. My turn.”
***
Falsi put his head around Orvo’s door. “Afternoon, Boss.”
The captain was cleaning a pistol at his desk, poking at the barrel with a tiny mop. A map of the city hung beside the window in a smart frame. Falsi hadn’t seen it before. He wondered if it had formerly occupied a space on the late procurator’s office wall.
“Falsi,” Orvo said, almost looking up. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Horse-shit you have, Falsi thought. For the past two days the captain had been away from his desk, leaving the running of the Watch-house to his men. “Well,” Falsi said, “here I am now.” He noticed that his own pistol was a good deal bigger than Orvo’s. The knowledge gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. “It’s pretty bad about the procurator,” he said. He’d never much liked the man.
“Stone dead,” Orvo replied. He put down the pistol. “It’s terrible, of course, but at least it’s ended now.”
“So the Anglians killed him? That’s what the lads are saying.”
“Damn right. Crept in his office and beat the poor bastard to death. Word is, the assassin climbed out the window and ran over the bloody rooftops. Foreigners: lunatics, all of them.”
“You said ‘the assassin’. So only one of them killed the procurator?”
Orvo frowned. “No, that’s not what I meant. Only one of them did the killing, for sure, but they were all in on it. A conspiracy, you see.”
Falsi nodded. “I see.”
“Then they ran for it. They got pretty far, too. The river boys got them, down at the docks.”
“Did we get the bodies?”
Orvo frowned. “No, of course not. The Customs people took them away. They’ll be in the Isle of Graves by now. All of them.” He picked up his gun and got to work with the mop again.
“So that’s that, is it?”
“Done and dusted.” Orvo paused, tools in hand. “You know, it would’ve been better if you hadn’t put them in that inn. You were too soft on them. All they did was plot to escape. You can see now why they had to be killed.”
“It
’s not our finest moment,” Falsi said. “You’re right about that.”
“I’ll tell you what it is, though.” Orvo looked the most alert he’d been for weeks. “Tidy, that’s what. And everyone likes a tidy town.”
“Too bad we won’t get paid for the work,” Falsi said sourly. “What with our boss being dead and all.”
“They’ll find another procurator.” Orvo grinned. “Maybe I’ll put myself forward.”
“I doubt it. No offence, Boss, but that’s noble’s work.”
“Now you,” Orvo replied, wagging a hairy finger in Falsi’s face, “are a nay-sayer. You hear the good news and you throw it back at me, just like Saint Jonas the Questioner.”
Falsi chuckled. “You’re quoting scripture at me. I think I’ve seen it all now.” He glanced down the corridor, towards the stairs. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll, er, leave you to the prophets.” He turned and walked away.
“Ye of little faith!” Orvo called after him, laughing as he did.
Falsi stopped smiling. He thought about Giulia Degarno, telling him she was being set up as she pointed her crossbow at his head. So then, Giulia, you tried to run for it. But why kill the procurator? How was that supposed to help your cause?
He walked downstairs, turning it over in his mind and knowing that he didn’t have the answers. Even if I knew everything, I doubt I could work out what really happened.
It didn’t matter any more. Tidy way for it all to work out, he thought as he walked across the narrow hall, into the sunlight. He paused, suddenly convinced he was being watched: not by his colleagues, but by something else, something high above him. Falsi glanced back at the tower, and a sentry on the rooftop waved at him. There was nothing to worry about.
Very tidy indeed.
***
“And then you both escaped?” Sethis said.
“That’s right,” Giulia said. “Hugh broke the door in and we both got out. I – well, I don’t know after that.” She looked at her hands. “I was in a lot of pain.”
“And then you woke up here. In the Scola.”
“Yes.”
Arashina picked the cigarillo out of her mouth, leaned to one side and ground it out on the underside of her chair. “And you want to go back up against them, then?”
Giulia took a deep breath. “Yes, I do.”
She looked over her shoulder. The thing they’d called Vurael was still there, standing at the edge of the trees in its hood and robe. She suspected it was a model, like the crude figures villagers made for saints’ day processions. She turned back to the others.
“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” Giulia said. “I’m going to kill that old bastard no matter what. If you want to help me, feel free. If you want to stand back and let me get on with it myself, I don’t mind that either. But if you don’t want to help, I’d be grateful if you didn’t get in the way.”
Arashina sighed. Hugh watched her. His eyes were half-closed, as if he was about to fall asleep.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Giulia said. “That’s just how it is.”
“Have you ever killed anyone before, in cold blood?” Arashina said. She stretched in her chair, but she didn’t yawn. “It is one thing to steal, quite another to take a life.”
“Plenty,” Giulia replied, and disliked herself for putting it so crudely. “I’ve killed a few people. Most of those were ones I needed to pay back for my face. Others were self-defence. I can’t say I’m proud of that, or that I enjoyed it – but knowing the kind of men they were, I can’t say I regret it too much, either.”
“True,” said Hugh. There was a moment’s silence.
“So where do I find them?” Giulia asked. “The only lead I’ve got left is Varro, the boatbuilder, but he’s dead. There may still be something at his boathouse, but if they’ve got any sense, they’ll have cleared it out by now.” She shrugged. “They killed the priest for a reason, and the only one I can think of is that he knew something about them. But as to what he knew… well, I’ve no idea.” A thought surfaced in her memory. “Have you ever heard of something called the New World Order?”
“The New World is known to us,” Arashina said. “King Paratan of Maidenland is a good friend to our people. But an order – no. Is the New World Order a group of monks, perhaps?”
“I’ve got something that might help,” Sethis said.
Giulia looked at him. “Oh yes?”
“A while back I did a little looking around,” the dryad said. “Most of the inquisitors kept the money they stole. They hid it underground, stashed it in wine barrels, that sort of thing. But a few of them were more, er, forward thinking. A while ago I heard a rumour that the money the Inquis made from looting Cerandi had gone into the Fiorenti Bank, right here in Averrio. So I asked on behalf of the Scola to see the bank’s records. To be honest,” he added, “I was pretty surprised when they said yes.”
“Did you find anything?” Giulia asked.
“Doubt it,” Hugh muttered.
“Nothing that I could understand. They have a new system – double entering, whatever that means – and of course the man who showed me was one of the bank’s own people. He had an interest in me remaining ignorant. Though it didn’t seem right, somehow. I might be wrong, of course, but I think they were hiding something. So I contacted Arashina here – and well, now this has come along.”
Giulia said, “So no proof at all, then.”
“None that would satisfy the Council of a Hundred.” Arashina looked round slowly, as if she was just coming to. “But we are not wrong,” she added. “They are here in the city, the last of them, still using the magic they stole off the Berendanti. We’ve suspected that for a long time. And now you have confirmed it.”
***
Azul tore off a crust of bread and transferred it to his mouth. He squinted as he chewed, as though it hurt him to eat. “They aren’t dead,” he said, wiping his lips. “Not one of them is dead.”
He sat in the port offices of the Fiorenti Bank, in the private rooms of the Master-Banker, picking at pilchards in sweet sauce and drinking a bottle of cheap wine. Cortaag lurked by the wall. His stomach had been bandaged, and he could not sit. Outside, the air was full of gulls and the creak of ropes. Men called out in different languages; raucous laughter rose up from below.
Benevesi stood by the window, watching the ships. For him, Azul reflected, commerce was a virtue in itself, a representation of the will of great men to succeed. Azul felt nothing for this place. The sailors disgusted him. Mongrel louts, all of them.
“Several of our hired men were killed,” Azul continued, poking his bread with a thin finger as if to get its attention. “That I can live with. But the woman and the knight got away. That is not acceptable.”
“So?” Benevesi turned from the window. “If they’ve got any sense, we’ll never see them again.”
Azul frowned and sucked on his cheeks. “I don’t think they do have any sense. You know, I’m beginning to wonder what we’re dealing with. The woman said all kinds of rubbish when I questioned her, about assassination, vendetta and the like – at least, I thought it was rubbish at the time. On second thoughts, I think there might have been some truth in it all.”
“Maybe,” Cortaag said. “They know how to fight, that’s for sure. Or at least the old man does.”
Azul stared across the room. “Believe me, Benevesi, they’ll still be here. They’ll be hiding out somewhere, making a plan. If what that woman said is true, she’s probably sharpening her knife right now.”
“No doubt,” Cortaag grumbled.
“So then,” Benevesi said. “What should we do?”
“Hunt them both down.” Azul tore off a scrap of bread and dipped it into the sauce. “Finish the job off.”
“Couldn’t’ve happened at a worse time, too,” Cortaag growled. “I bet that priest timed it to
happen now. The last thing we need is for this shit to come to light with the old brothers in town.”
“Calm down, would you?” Benevesi said. “Maybe it’s just chance.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Cortaag took a step forward, hands at his sides curling into fists. “What the hell do you know about it? I got a blade through the gut for you to tell me to calm down? For these people to shit all over us?”
Azul glanced up and smiled thinly. “Sit down, Felsten – if you can. You’re scaring our friend. He’s not used to violence.”
Cortaag leaned back against the wall. Benevesi sighed. “Look,” said the banker, “can’t you just pay some people to take care of this? I mean to say, the Watch aren’t the best, but there’ve got to be some Customs men we could hire, or mercenaries. Heaven knows we’ve got enough money coming in—”
“We’ll do it ourselves,” Azul replied. “This is a private matter. And besides, I doubt a few hired men could do the job.”
Benevesi sighed. “You’re getting worried about a madwoman and a broken-down old soldier. What is this man – pushing sixty, and still throwing his weight around? And this woman follows him about like a squire? It’s like something from Don Alonzo Rides Out. If you ask me, these people sound like relics.”
Azul scowled. “Do you consider me to be a relic, too?” Soon, he thought, you will realise how foolish an attitude that is. All of this – the city, the world around it, will be changed. The proper order will be restored, and the nonsense of the last two decades swept aside. Then, then you’ll realise what a relic I really am. You judge the strength of a ruler by force of will, not money or age.
Benevesi was smiling at him. “Here,” he said, “I’ve got something else for you. You’ll like this.” He stepped to the door. “It’s this way. Come on.”
Benevesi led them down through the building. They passed through a hall of shipping clerks who sat scribbling at their desks like oversized schoolboys, surrounded by the scratchy whisper of pens.
Azul tapped Cortaag on the shoulder. “Did you find that dryad girl, the one the woman mentioned?”
