I proceeded to the queue to get processed and drew some aghast looks from the aide and some security guards.
“What?” I asked, half to Treth and half to the aide.
Treth shrugged. The aide leaned in and whispered conspiratorially.
“You don’t need to queue, Ms Drummond. You are a special guest! Please, this way…”
“What about my weapons?”
The aide didn’t show an ounce of concern. Seems that the checkpoint was basically just to prevent stationary theft. I looked a bit sheepish as I observed the rest of the queue for their reactions. They didn’t seem perturbed by my special treatment. Torn between a desire for fairness and the undeniable benefits of skipping a queue, I decided to go with the latter and followed the aide.
A security guard opened a gate next to the queue and I followed the aide towards it, just as a guard stepped in front of me.
I prepared my wittiest jab, until I noticed that he was wearing a Crusader branded cap.
“Last Light! Sorry to bother you, but…” he took off his hat shyly and held it out towards me. “Could you sign this please?”
You might think I would sigh in a situation like this. But, of all the pressures of being a celebrity, this was one I didn’t mind too much. There was genuine admiration in this man’s eyes. And a sincere joy as I used a marker to sign my Conrad-approved signature onto the cap, next to the Crusader’s Aegis and Ithalen logo.
The guard thanked me and then saluted. I somehow managed to not blush as the checkpoint went silent, watching me disappear into the bowels of this den of bureaucracy.
“Do you sign a lot of merchandise, Ms Drummond?” the aide asked, sounding half curious and half anxious to keep to his employer’s schedule.
“Only when I’m around a lot of civvies. Monsters seldom carry a pen. Mostly, people want photos, which can be a bit inconvenient when I’m covered in guts.”
The aide grinned. Slightly, but there was some humour there after all.
“Tell him about that guy who tried to get you to sign a dozen t-shirts. All of them being Conrad’s discontinued warrior princess design,” Treth insisted. It appeared that while he seemed to age physically, and now sported a dark blonde goatee, he had become increasingly childish.
The aide finally stopped by a dark wooden door and knocked twice. A muffled voice on the other side bade us enter and the aide opened the door for me.
The Chairperson was, in practicality, the leader of the State of Good Hope. The leader was much more than a mayor, less than a president, and somewhat superior to a prime minister. Between keeping the Council respectable, making the first and final decision on all matters of governance, and being, effectively, the top dog of the State of Good Hope’s government, the Chairperson was, arguably, the most powerful person in the country.
As such, I had expected a larger office.
Riaan Haggenort sat at a plain wooden desk, topped with a desktop PC, three thick tomes on civics and law, and one of those metal balls physics thingies. There were two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, lined with tomes similar to those already on Riaan’s desk.
Riaan stood to greet me, and I couldn’t help but recall my preconceptions of him. Timid. Nervous. An uninspiring candidate who had won by default. Riaan was not a popular politician. He did not have that xenophobic populism of the late Radebe, or the appeal to the reasonable majority that Jane had boasted.
Riaan was a scholar. He had written an apparently interesting treatise on the effects of lawmancy on a modern republic. Colin probably would have found it interesting.
There had been many doubts about Riaan, including calls for re-election. But, in the interest of maintaining the favour of the Spirit of the Law, and because finding new candidates would disrupt the fabric of Hope City yet again, Riaan was now our dear leader.
Well, we weren’t dead yet, so he had to be doing something right. Still, Jane would have been better.
“Good morning, Last Light…Ms Drummond,” Riaan stammered, just a bit, as he considered which was more appropriate.
“Ms Drummond is fine. Rifts, just call me Kat!”
Riaan seemed a bit shocked at my casualness, but smiled, before indicating a seat at his desk. I sat down, adjusting my sheathed short-sword and holstered pistol to make myself more comfortable. I hadn’t expected to be allowed them during this meeting. But it was always nice to have them on me. Never knew when a rift could open up and swallow you whole. Trust me. I know!
“It’s good to finally meet you, Kat,” Riaan continued. “Personally, I would have liked to have had this meeting sooner. But, we are both busy officials…”
Following his election, I had put down a dozen undead outbreaks and put all manner of beasts in the ground. I wasn’t sure his form of busyness was the same.
Riaan visibly fidgeted, his gaze falling on the metal orbs slowly clicking away as they swayed this way and that.
“I must ask, Chair…”
“Please, call me Riaan. It’s only fair. And we are a modern republic. Social niceties and titles belong in days long gone, or in Europe today depending on whom you ask.”
“Riaan,” I continued, mentally shelving his reference to the budding feudal societies popping up in central Europe. “I understand the delay in our meeting perfectly well, but I must ask: why meet at all? I know it isn’t customary to meet with hunters. Even agency heads. You have not met with the leaders of Drakenbane or Puretide. Why me?”
Riaan, very much unpolitician-like, frowned. He lacked that cold calculating exterior that Jane had excelled at. In a way, he was a lot more sincere. But that sincerity revealed something that I couldn’t help but note. He wasn’t leadership material.
“I think it is common knowledge that you are not a usual hunter in this city of private contracting…” he stopped to consider his words. “Which puts you in a privileged position. For good or ill…”
I got the impression he believed the latter. Great!
“I am not a fan of my celebrity status, Riaan. Perhaps even less a fan of it than you are.”
Riaan showed some subtle surprise, but then seemed to calm a bit, as his shoulders relaxed.
“That is…refreshing to hear. But, like it or not, you saved the city. You became the Last Light. And Ms Phoenix’s marketing didn’t help to maintain your humble status. I know you are friends with her. And that you backed her for the position I now hold. That is something I personally found distasteful. Not because you backed her, in particular, but because a private citizen was made to hold too much sway over the politics of this city.”
“Is that any different from hiring a publicist?” I retorted, crossing my arms just a bit defensively.
“A publicist helps to spread a message. But Jane, whom I have a lot of respect for professionally, used your fame to win votes. It was akin to tabloid-electioneering.”
“Jane was a politician, yes. And she and almost every other candidate in this city perhaps do not represent the ideal of democracy that you hold dear. But do not think that Jane didn’t have principles. A message. She believed in the importance of freelance monster hunting in keeping this city safe. It’s a belief I shared. And I spread that message alongside her.”
Riaan frowned again. He reached out slowly towards the metal spheres and caught one, stopping the chain reaction. The click-clack of metal stopped.
“I…am well aware of your campaign. And its veracity. Well, veracity in the public eye. I have different views. But, be that as it may, Jane was successful in turning you into something else. A symbol of hunters unimpeded by law, order and the institutions that should govern a modern nation. I believe that the path to prosperity in Hope City requires the institutionalisation of our hunters. No more heroes. No more celebrity-hunters. And no more greedy corporations slaying monsters for only the highest bidder. This city needs to formalise its hunters and bring them into the fold of the civil service.”
His speech was impassioned but, as he finished, he slumped back in
to his chair. As if disappointed.
“But…that’s not what people want. People want the Last Light. The human embodiment of defiance. Against authority and monsters. They want you.”
I realised that I had uncrossed my arms. While Riaan’s diatribe against my profession had offended me, there was something vulnerable about him. Something defeated. I didn’t necessarily like him, but I struggled to hate him.
“They want me. But you do not,” I stated, matter of factly. Best to air our dirty laundry openly.
“Au contraire,” he said. “I do not have a special disdain for you. In fact, I respect you. You have done immeasurable good for this city through your practical deeds. I would be a fool to dislike the hunter who saved us from Loviatar, and countless undead. The Crusaders are a valuable organisation in my city. I may be…disappointed in the fame they have gathered, but I will not reject the good that they and you accomplish. But there are others who do not like what you have become. Taragon and Huguenot, for instance. Their agencies are practically ancient institutions in this city’s most famous industry. The Crusaders is an infant compared to them. But an infant that has skyrocketed in the public’s eyes. You have poached their hunters, taken contracts, and more than that…you have become a symbol. I have not met with them, but their communications are clear. They want you gone.”
“Delightful.”
“But that isn’t so simple now. Garce once tried to hamstring your operations to favour his interests in Drakenbane…”
Well, actually because I’d killed his son. But I wasn’t going to go announcing that from the rooftops.
“But something like that would only backfire now. You are a symbol, and symbols cannot be simply destroyed. Only…tarnished…”
He paused, contemplating his own words. My coat hummed during the awkward silence. I silently willed it not to burn his leather seating. That wouldn’t win me any favours.
Finally, I broke the silence.
“Why did you want to meet, Riaan? You obviously have a huge regard for democracy and equality. Something I can respect, in theory. But you are giving me the special privilege of meeting with me. Symbol or not, there must be a purpose.”
“In recognition of your importance to this city,” he said, his voice taking on an official tone. As if announcing a criminal sentence. “And that I am, before all else, a pragmatist, I would like to maintain a good working relationship with you. We both know that Jane Phoenix was going to win the elections. While the Spirit of the Law respected my…unorthodox election, I am yet to win the acceptance of the people. I hope that by working with you, I can accomplish two things. First, that your fame can rub off on me, but secondly and more importantly, that we can help each other rid this city of monsters.”
That’s something that I did like to hear. And, while I didn’t like working with authority, I had done it once before with Jane. Perhaps, I could implement her vision through Riaan.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
He leant back, seeming a bit more comfortable now that we had finished with all the nitty-gritty awkwardness.
“You start. Do you have any requests? Concerns? Ideas? What can we do together to help Africa’s last republic?”
“I heard the Anubite Syndicate has elections,” I pointed out, as an aside.
Something twinkled in Riaan’s eye as I brought up his subject of study.
“Yes, but they do not have universal suffrage. Far from it. I refer to the Anubite Syndicate as a Necrocracy. Only wights and spirits have a say in elections.”
“Maybe I should move there!” Treth chimed in.
“You’d love it,” Riaan continued, in the tone of good-natured sarcasm. “Necromancers and undead roam the streets with impunity, and Anubis offers boons in the way of consuming the souls of the living.”
“A charming little place.” I paused and rubbed my chin, thinking about what to say.
Riaan was offering me a golden opportunity to air my grievances. Or a trap to ensure my loyalty. As always. I would have to step carefully. Zombies were easy. Humans, not so much.
“The recent outbreaks in the slums,” I finally continued, deciding on my issue of focus. “There have been around a dozen in the past few months. Most of them in the slums. Puretide has downscaled its operations since its losses in the Necrolord case, and Drakenbane is not equipped to deal with hordes. That means that the Crusaders have been having to juggle more outbreaks than we have people. We’re stretched thin and I’m not sure how long until one of these outbreaks gets out of control.”
“What is your suggestion? Dedicate more police to the slums? Tensions at the Three Point Line aren’t high at the moment. We could spare some of the CDF.”
I winced. The thought of the military patrolling civilian streets didn’t sit well with me. It smelled too much like fascism. Too much like dark parts of this region’s history. But I had other concerns with the idea.
“Police and soldiers aren’t trained and equipped to deal with these outbreaks. They will lead to more infections. Case in point: the 2026 Muizenberg Outbreak. The first responders were police. They got too close to the zombies without the necessary weapons or protection. It just added fuel to the fire. No, the police have a role here…” I reluctantly admitted. “But that’s to contain an area until hunters arrive.”
“What about soldiers?” Riaan offered, rubbing his chin and crossing his legs. “The CDF handle the mass-undead infantry on the border well enough.”
“Frankly, give a toddler a tight and clear kill-zone and then arm them with a CAHSL, and they could wipe out Shaka’s Chosen.”
The CAHSL (pronounced like castle) was a monster of a gun. A fully automatic shotgun that fired hundreds of sharp pellets. They didn’t so much as kill zombies as turn them into black and bloody paste.
“And the CAHSL could not be deployed in the slums?”
“Not if you care about civilian lives. And I do.”
Riaan didn’t argue. Good.
“I don’t think brute force or even more bodies on the ground will solve this issue,” I continued, considering the case myself. “More hunters would help to eliminate the outbreaks more quickly but won’t stop them from happening in the first place. No, the real problem is necromancers.”
“So, these aren’t riftborne undead?”
I shook my head, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. How could someone so scholarly not know the basics of necromancy.
“For an undead to be contagious,” I explained, slowly. “They must be controlled by a necromancer. Necroblood is toxic regardless but requires that necromantic connection to be able to infect others.”
Riaan nodded. “So, there are humans behind this?”
“Most likely. Possibly, vampires. But, with the number of outbreaks and the range of times when they hit, I suspect it must be humans. And not a few. I suspect that there are many necromancers. Fortunately, quite new. The zombies we have faced are weak, with almost no mutations. They have also been unruly. Undirected. Thank Athena for that. It’s meant they’ve been containable.”
“So, you suspect there are a bunch of amateur necromancers causing outbreaks in the city?”
“Yes, but the question is how. Grafscripp is not common. You can’t just buy it from a shop. Necromancers are jealous by nature and tend to not take on many apprentices. If any. But, with the number of new undead, I am beginning to believe that someone or something is disseminating Grafscripp throughout the city’s underworld.”
“Could it not be the left-overs of the Necrolord?” Riaan suggested. “They were known to use criminal mage gangs. Perhaps they trained some of these mages to become necromancers?”
I immediately felt the need to defend Candace, but Riaan was right. When Candace finally abandoned her dark crusade and started moving towards the light, her zombie minions broke loose and flooded the city. Candace, I was sad to admit, was responsible for much of the evil in this city. But, I had to believe, and I did believe, that she was
doing everything she could to fix her sins. And I believed that she could find redemption.
“What do you need?” Riaan finally asked.
“Puretide needs to get back in the game. And other freelancers being incentivised to go after the undead would also help. Raising the general public bounty on undead will help.”
“Won’t that just enrich you?”
“Frankly, Chairperson,” I used his title coldly. “You can look at my taxes and see that I don’t need the boost. If I cared about money, I wouldn’t be hunting undead. They pay a minuscule amount for the danger they present, and that’s part of the problem.”
I was afraid that I had offended him, but he nodded again. “Point taken. I will consider it.”
I smiled, faintly.
“Some knightly orders would go a long way,” Treth suggested. I ignored him.
“Manpower will help,” I continued. “But, until we eliminate these necromancers, it will just be applying a band-aid to a gut wound. We need to stop the outbreaks at the source. Necromancers are humans, so they fall under the police’s jurisdiction. But, I am, in my humble opinion, far better suited to investigate necromancers. I would like access to the police files on suspected and confirmed mages dabbling in necromancy.”
“Those files are classified,” Riaan retorted.
I leant back in my chair, comfortable. He said that, but I had the undeniable sense that I held the negotiating power here.
“And they can remain classified. Just give me clearance.”
Riaan paused for a long time. I was used to decisive action and fast-talking, but there was a lot to say for being methodical. Riaan, for all his other shortcomings, was a careful person.
“I will consider all these, Kat Drummond. But, in return, I would like you to consider working with the police. On a formal basis. I will concede that the police are ill-prepared to deal with the undead. But you can change that. Work with them as they contain outbreaks and during your investigation. Help me bring police and hunters closer together.”
I frowned. “I have a bad track record with the police.”
The Silver Star (Kat Drummond Book 11) Page 4
