‘Well, while you were enjoying yourselves,’ Fulcrom said, ‘the rest of us were trying to solve the murders of three members of the city guard – brutal killings, and each of them in plain view of the public.’
‘Oh,’ Tane said.
‘Oh exactly,’ Fulcrom replied.
‘One in front of the library, and two more on the gateways to the third and fourth levels, and there’re still no leads to finding the killers of them or the councillor.’
‘Sorry,’ Tane muttered, ‘but we didn’t hear about them.’
‘Don’t you know any better? The more of a reputation you get, the more you have to lose. You’ve all got a past, things you’d rather weren’t shared about – you’re playing into the Emperor’s hands even further. He wants you to become stars so it binds you further to your job. You’ll be a Knight for life at this rate, no chance to get away from it all when our work is done. How much more vulnerable are you all to being exposed when you’re celebrities?’
Nothing but silence. Fulcrom was right, he was always right.
‘Exactly. Before you had nothing to lose. Now, you’ve much more, and every time you invite people back here, that risk of not only exposure, but of fucking up the efforts of so many people looking to reduce crime, all gets greater.’
‘All right,’ Tane sighed. ‘You’ve made your point.’
Fulcrom paused, and eventually calmed. He took a deep breath. ‘Good. So, while people were busy getting killed yesterday, where precisely were you all?’
‘I was out, but there were only a couple of petty thefts – they were quite open and shut though,’ Lan told him.
‘Open and shut,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘Right.’
‘Do you think I’m lying?’
‘No – it’s just that these petty crimes, they might be an effort to distract you while something bigger’s going on elsewhere in the city.’
‘I didn’t realize,’ Lan replied.
‘It’s OK,’ Fulcrom said. ‘I’m only just working these things out for myself.’
‘You expect us to be everywhere at all times?’ Vuldon remarked bitterly. ‘There are hundreds of thousands of people in this city. We can’t stop every murder.’
‘I’m sure Fulcrom didn’t mean that,’ Lan said.
‘Well, you would take his side, wouldn’t you?’ Vuldon muttered.
Tane mouthed the words ‘Lover boy’ at Lan, and Fulcrom glanced to each of them in confusion.
Lan knew Fulcrom was smart enough to know what was going on, to read the silences, the conversation that wasn’t being spoken here. She felt incredibly awkward and embarrassed and shy, yet there was something about having her affections implied that offered some relief – because she sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything about her growing feelings for the investigator.
‘These murders,’ Vuldon said eventually, ‘what can you tell us?’
‘Each of them were committed in a public location,’ Fulcrom said, sitting on one of the plush settees. ‘Each victim was a soldier in the city guard, on a highly visible location. There was a note by one of the bodies, scrawled by the culprits – who we believe to be the anarchists.’
‘What did it say?’ Lan asked.
‘It said “You put symbols out here, with deeds we will be removing others”.’
‘A retaliation,’ Vuldon declared. He sat next to Fulcrom, his bulk making the investigator look like a child. ‘Which means you – or the Emperor – will want us to retaliate back.’
‘Exactly,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘Because they won’t stop until more people are dead. We’re dealing with a strange psychology here.’
‘What do you want us to do then?’ Lan asked.
‘As soon as you’re all ready, we’re heading into Caveside. The Inquisition has handed over to me the names and addresses of those we think are crime lords of varying effect – those who manage guilds on this side of the city, ones who are known to have their claws reaching deep into the caves. We visit them one by one and see what we can find, see what they know. It’s essential we find Shalev, and the Emperor is growing more demanding by the day.’
‘And if we don’t find her by this method?’ Lan prompted. ‘It seems unlikely a criminal would just hand over an ally.’
‘We try something else. But even if this doesn’t work, we’ll hopefully be able to put the fear into some of Caveside’s shadier characters.’
‘And it’s a chance to visit some old friends,’ Vuldon added, smirking.
Fulcrom reflected on his words. ‘I don’t want anything to get out of hand. No old vendettas.’
‘You forget that my secrets aren’t like yours,’ Vuldon protested. ‘I was framed for something I didn’t do, and I know there were some of these so-called crime lords involved in that, or their families were. I was set up and I—’
‘Want revenge,’ Fulcrom finished. ‘That’s understandable. But for now, Vuldon, please – you have a job to do. Virtually no one remembers what happened since it was covered up by everyone involved. To the public you simply disappeared. You’re just Vuldon now, someone with greater powers and responsibilities. There are several paths you can choose to making amends, and I suggest you simply get on with helping the people of the city.’
‘You’ve a smart answer for everything,’ Vuldon muttered, and Lan couldn’t discern if it was a simple statement or the start of a threat.
‘I’m not concerned with smartness,’ Fulcrom added, ‘just getting the job done.’
*
Fulcrom was in a morose mood as he marched them towards the crime lords. He hoped that Tane and Vuldon were sulking, or reflecting on their deeds. Their excessiveness was to be expected, perhaps, but they needed to know those actions would be a liability. Lan seemed to be the only one he could fully trust, and his fondness for her grew each day. He was drawn to her introversions, to the world of emotions beneath her surface – it made a change from the brashness and arrogance found with many of the investigators.
They wore dark hooded cloaks. Moving through the snow along the fourth level of the city, he watched Lan closely – she walked with an amazing grace, a lightness of step that must have come from her years of acrobatics. They headed down a network of small alleys, where the walls were actually chunks of rock smothered in dripping lichen, and every now and then there would be a small, steamed-up window, sometimes with a face behind pressed up against it. The snow ceased, filling the air with tension and light. Caught on the breeze, a couple of abandoned issues of People’s Observer skittered along the street.
The Knights were silent as they progressed further into what Fulcrom knew to be dubious territory: they arrived at a large, metal door set into a whitewashed wall of an expensive-looking house. It had been constructed so the owners could see over the lower levels of the city: rooftops sparkling in the sunshine, the spires and bridges casting bold shadows and, over the walls, in the distance was nothing but murky tundra, much of it trampled by the passage of refugees.
Standing next to the house were two men, each nearly as tall as Vuldon. Shaven-headed with dark cloaks flapping from their shoulders, each bore the scars of combat, and by each of their sides hung a fat sabre.
‘What can we do for you gents?’ one of them asked gruffly.
‘Three gents and a lady, to be precise.’ Tane indicated Lan, and one of them took a closer look at him. He slid back his hood to reveal his cat-furred face and weird eyes, but the thug didn’t seem concerned. Not even at the sharp claws he’d used to point at Lan.
‘Heard about you lot,’ one man declared. ‘Knights or something or other. Funny costumes, like them MythMaker sketches.’
‘That’s right, the Villjamur Knights, and I’m Investigator Fulcrom of the Inquisition. We’re here to have a word with Delandro.’
Vuldon glared at Fulcrom then, and the rumel turned away. ‘I didn’t know he was still alive,’ Vuldon hissed.
The two thugs consulted each other, and one went inside while the rest of them
stood in silence. Vuldon seemed to be in the grips of a barely contained rage.
The first thug returned and bid them enter and the Knights followed.
*
Every bit the signature of a man who had more money than taste, it was a dark yet garish abode, with gold-leaf cressets, black-painted wood, wide arches, full-length mirrors and erotic paintings. Each room was larger than Fulcrom’s own apartment, and smelled of some expensive fragrance.
They were escorted into an antechamber with a skylight shadowed by snow. A handful of logs burned in the huge central fireplace. A frail-looking man shuffled into the room, wearing a dark-green robe with neat stitching, a simple, costly elegance that was fitting for an emperor. He moved silently to the fire, where his bodyguard helped him into a large wooden chair akin to a throne. He remained there, the light of the fire warming one half of his face and casting the other half in darkness.
Tane leaned into Fulcrom and whispered, ‘This is one of the most violent men in the city? He doesn’t look like he’s capable of wiping his own behind.’
‘His power is all in his wealth,’ Fulcrom breathed. ‘He funds organized crime – though that’s something we’ve never been able to prove.’
‘Enough of this whispering.’ Delandro cleared his throat and continued in a frail voice. ‘What brings these famous celebrities to my house?’
‘We were wondering if you could help the Inquisition with some enquiries,’ Fulcrom said.
‘And you bring these – ’ Delandro raised a hand to gesture wildly at the others ‘ – enhanced thugs for added persuasion.’
‘It wouldn’t be all that different from your own business operation, now would it?’ Fulcrom challenged. ‘The deals which you’ve done with your men’s hands around people’s throats? Intimidation and bullying? The deception, the theft?’
‘You can prove nothing, investigator. Besides, I have friends in the Council who will vouch for my clean record.’
That was true, and didn’t Fulcrom know it.
‘This one, the brute, he looks familiar.’ Delandro indicated Vuldon, who was loitering in the shadows, by one of the paintings.
Fulcrom could hear Vuldon’s heavy breath even from this distance. He could sense the tension. ‘You met him in a previous life,’ Fulcrom said. ‘You probably remember his old name, though.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘The Legend,’ Fulcrom replied.
Delandro was visibly taken aback and examined Vuldon with cautious interest. ‘Oh.’
‘Oh indeed, fucker,’ Vuldon growled, stepping out of the shadows.
Whether or not Delandro felt any remorse, he didn’t reveal it. ‘I believe the Inquisition were also implicit in your demise,’ the old man offered, his tone radically changed to one of reason.
‘True,’ Vuldon replied, ‘but you’re the cunt who made sure the events panned out in their favour. Your men rigged that wall, your men set up the false crime so that I’d turn up – because you wanted rid of me too.’
Delandro sighed. For the first time in his measly existence of lies and corruption, he spoke a truth: ‘I’m old, I have no reason to hide parts of history where you’re concerned. The Council needed help. I was told Emperor Johynn wanted rid of you because you had uncovered evidence that Johynn had in fact killed his own father Gulion to claim the throne. You were ready to expose that, so they set you up. It was that simple, and I’m sure if you make enquiries through official channels, you will still find that no one will let you press the issue any further.’
‘Why kill those children?’ Vuldon should have been enraged, but there was a break in his voice. ‘Sixteen kids died because that wall collapsed on them – that was set-up by your men, and timed so that I would be there – too late to do anything about it, but right on time so that I could be set up for supposedly knocking down the wall. There was no escaping it.’
‘You were offered retirement in exchange for keeping everything quiet,’ Delandro said. ‘Or that was the plan. You kept your reputation intact where possible, and so did the Emperor. It worked out best for all concerned – it was a simple business transaction. The children . . . yes, that was a tragedy admittedly. But sometimes we must make tough decisions.’
‘You ruined so many lives,’ Vuldon murmured.
Fulcrom knew what happened to Vuldon next: the fall from grace, the spiral of depression, the alcohol and drugs and his wife choking on her own vomit after a drinking binge. The Legend fading into legend.
Fulcrom couldn’t bear to watch Vuldon like this for much longer. ‘Shalev,’ he said. ‘We’re looking for Shalev. You must have heard of her in your circles, surely?’
‘Ah, yes, our anarchist queen.’
‘You know her?’ Fulcrom pressed. ‘Have you met with her?’
‘Do you honestly think you can all waltz in here simply for me to tell you these things?’ Delandro chuckled.
‘We can give you money,’ Fulcrom offered.
‘Fuck your money,’ Delandro spat. ‘I have all the money I need.’
Fulcrom signalled to Vuldon; Vuldon lurched towards Delandro. One of thugs came in out of the darkness to intercept him, but Vuldon turned lashed out, shattering the man’s jaw, then delivered a blow to the stomach, hunching him over. Vuldon grabbed the scruff of his neck and slammed him down on a table right in front of Delandro. The wood exploded as the thug collapsed on the ground.
Delandro sneered at the ruined table and the stilled body. Four more bodyguards in red tunics stumbled into the room and, in the dull light of the fire, the Knights spun to challenge them.
It happened quickly, in the firelight, and in relative quiet. As the bodyguards drew their swords and lunged forward, Tane raked his claws across one man’s face with two further blows to the side of his head and he was down. Meanwhile, Lan leapt, hovered then kicked at another – first a blow to his arm sending his sword clattering to the ground, then to his stomach. As he doubled over she grabbed a vase and exploded it on his head – he collapsed pathetically.
As the action continued, Fulcrom strolled nonchalantly closer to the now-panicking Delandro.
‘Impressive, aren’t they,’ Fulcrom commented calmly.
‘They’re monsters,’ Delandro told him as he watched Vuldon put down another two attackers with ease. The Knights turned their attention to Delandro, and waited for Fulcrom’s word.
‘I have done nothing wrong, no crime,’ Delandro spluttered, sitting back in his chair, then laughing awkwardly. ‘Please, you would not hurt an old man.’
Vuldon lunged forward but Fulcrom held out a palm. ‘We’ve no reason to hurt you at all – well, Vuldon has, of course. Just tell us what you know of Shalev and we’ll be on our way.’
‘In all honesty, I know nothing.’ The old man stared glumly into the fire, before resting his head in his hands. ‘She comes to this city, she gets the proletariat on her side. It makes things difficult for businessmen of my standing.’
‘I get it,’ Fulcrom said. ‘You mean people from the caves, they’ve no need for your types of crime when they’re working for her.’
‘Crime, indeed,’ Delandro muttered. ‘Where I once gave hardworking men and women in my employ food and drink, trinkets and coin, she now provides them with such things for free. I hear she has done things to grow food in the darkness, and it is in plentiful supply. I hear they have no need for coin with her ways. If they have their desires met they do not wish to work for me. How can I compete with that? In what ways can I tempt them? No, I am done with it all. I have enough, and I am too old for this game now.’
There was nothing for them here, no new information. ‘Let’s move on,’ Fulcrom announced.
‘I’ll follow you out in a moment,’ Vuldon said, looking down at Delandro.
‘Don’t abuse your powers, Vuldon,’ Fulcrom warned.
‘I won’t abuse my powers,’ he replied, pushing his fist into his palm. ‘I just need a quiet word with an old friend.’
Fulcro
m knew what might happen, but felt that, all things considered Vuldon probably deserved this time. Turning reluctantly away, Fulcrom steered the others out of the house.
*
Outside in the wintry chill, Tane and Lan discussed what Vuldon had been through – it was as if they had a new understanding for him, and that pleased Fulcrom.
Vuldon joined them a couple of minutes later, leaving the door to the property ajar. Tane peered inside then quickly turned back.
‘What did you do to him?’ Fulcrom asked, shivering in the wind.
‘Told you,’ Vuldon replied calmly. ‘I had a quiet word, is all.’
‘Have you finally released all those years of suppressed anger?’ Tane offered.
Vuldon glared at him. ‘If you’d been through what I have, because of that man, you wouldn’t hold back.’
‘Fair enough,’ Tane replied, looking away. ‘My apologies.’
‘Did you kill him?’ Lan whispered.
‘He’s alive,’ Vuldon snapped, pulling up his hood. ‘Let’s just leave it at that. So, where to next, investigator?’
*
The Knights stood dumbstruck at the sight of Caveside. Apart from Vuldon, Fulcrom realized that, like much of the outer half of the city, the other two Knights had never visited the underbelly of Villjamur.
Despite its underground location, the place was bright, with light from the sky above channelled through strips, and down the underside of the massive cavern and adjoining catacombs, that were the under-city. Ancient, cultist-crafted glass captured light in a central hub and distributed it. This architectural magic meant that the people down here could dwell in almost similar lighting to the grand city of tier after tier of Imperial glory on the outside.
From their position of height, entering from the third level of the city, they could see across the buildings.
‘Place still looks fucked-up,’ Vuldon said. ‘Like a god vomited a hundred styles of buildings on top of each other.’
From Underground North to East, there were two-, three- and four-storey houses, in clusters and scattered randomly, and the rest of the miles-wide indoor plain comprised of crude stone constructs or half-arsed metal-and-wood shacks. Some houses were weirdly decorated, with marbles or shards of glass pressed into surfaces. They were utilitarian structures, for warmth, shelter – not things of beauty. There was nothing grand here, no styles to be proud of. Washing lines hung between some of the taller buildings, underneath which children played and mangy dogs and cats chased one another. And weirder things dwelled in the underground, animals that cultists had messed with, half-bred with lizards and birds and creatures that should not dwell on land.
Book of Transformations Page 21
