Moon's Artifice

by Tom Lloyd

  Narin found himself colouring at the man’s words. Undeserved as they were, Vanden was genuine enough in believing it was Narin who had killed his attackers.

  ‘I was fortunate enough to not be alone,’ he muttered, ‘and with time to prepare in case anything did happen.’

  ‘The, ah, the matter is resolved then ?’ Kine asked. ‘You are not still in danger, are you ?’

  Narin cleared his throat and tried to sound confident. ‘Not quite, my Lady, but I come to ask your husband a favour – one I believe may go some way towards bringing it to an end.’

  ‘Then it is granted !’ Vandan declared expansively. ‘Whatever my friend needs, he shall have.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ Narin bowed again to try and hide his relief. ‘The young woman in question, I believe there are more criminals hunting her, waiting for her to leave the compound.’

  ‘I heard it was the goshe ?’ Vanden said. ‘Is the whole Order involved or were they hired killers ?’

  Narin shook his head, mindful of Vanden’s position. The last thing they could afford was any great interest from the military powers, as Enchei had pointed out.

  He’s a nobleman like any other, Narin reminded himself as Breven returned with a tray of glasses and small bowls of delicacies. Whether or not he calls me friend, he trades in power and favours. Any hint that this is more than a criminal matter and he’ll know who would appreciate hearing that ahead of the pack.

  ‘A small criminal element within the goshe,’ he said eventually, waiting until Breven had served his lord and been dismissed again. ‘Limited to one Shure training house – the Shure master is now dead, but there are others still at large.’

  ‘Well I’m hardly surprised, the goshe’ve been ripe for exploitation by criminals for decades,’ Vanden surmised, sitting back again. ‘The Lawbringers are an enclosed culture, modelled on the ways of the warrior caste, after all. It imposes the order and discipline necessary for such training. To offer all castes and trades that, disparate people handed skills of violence, I’m surprised such a thing hasn’t happened sooner.’

  ‘Indeed, Lord Vanden,’ Narin replied smoothly. ‘I suspect the Vanguard Council are increasingly coming to that opinion too.’

  ‘Good – high time they took a firmer hand, but how is it I can help you ?’ Vanden cocked his head. ‘I can’t imagine the other Houses would like Wyvern troops being the ones to investigate every Shure in the city now !’

  Narin smiled. ‘No Lord, I suspect not. However, these criminals will naturally shy away from a confrontation with troops. I intend to make a break from the compound using the guards as a diversion. If the criminals do attack even a large body of Investigators there will be significant bloodshed – if the Investigators draw them away, however, it buys us time to run for the Crescent and cross. If we can trick them we might be able to prevent a fight entirely.’

  ‘You want to come here ?’ Vanden asked with a frown. ‘Have a detachment of Wyvern troops waiting to ward off any pursuit ?’

  ‘And safe haven for the woman in question. She is young and frightened, her sister is dead because of this matter and I have promised to see her safe.’ I just have to persuade Kesh to stay safe. That’ll be a harder one to sell.

  ‘Naturally,’ the nobleman said with a thoughtful nod. ‘Perhaps not the Dragon dock though, just in case there is a confrontation. Lord Omtoray would not appreciate that, tensions as they currently are. If just one man with House Eagle blood draws a weapon in such a public part of Dragon District … well, there may be official ramifications quite aside from warriors taking matters into their own hands.’

  ‘We came via the Fett Canal just now,’ Narin suggested. ‘There were soldiers there already, perhaps that would be best ?’

  ‘Yes – I can assign men for that easily enough. Let me instruct my captain to do so and brief him on what to expect. When do you intend to do it ?’

  ‘Just before dawn, as the darkness is fading. There shouldn’t be anyone on the streets to get in the way or get hurt.’

  ‘Dawn it is,’ Vanden declared. ‘They’ll think Lady Trickster herself has it out for them !’

  Narin swallowed and smiled weakly. ‘Let us hope so.’

  Chapter 15

  The five Lesser Gods of each Order remain in ascendancy for ten days ; each Order rules the heavens for sixty with the last ten commonly styled a ‘dark week’ where none is in ascendance. These things we can observe ourselves yet between the light of facts, the shadow of argument may remain. The dark week tells some that more may yet be raised to Godhood but I prefer a different interpretation. Instead of being a prize dangled for all to reach for, I see the dark weeks as a reminder by the Gods that they do not see all – that sometimes, we can rely on no one but ourselves.

  From A History by Ayel Sorote

  Synter fought the urge to grab the man and shake him like a dog. Instead, she wrinkled her nose against the acrid smell that constantly surrounded him and took a careful step back. There was a virulent green liquid in the jar he carried and experience told her to be careful of everything in this room.

  ‘Tell me what you could manage ?’ Synter said carefully. ‘We need to be prepared, there’s no time to lose.’

  ‘Were I to lower myself to such things,’ replied the tall, skeletally thin man with naked distaste, ‘all you ask and more. One of the Moon’s Artifice variants would serve, but I will not provide it, precisely for the reason that we never used it in the first place. No matter how careful you might be, it will lead back to us if used on adults.’

  ‘Father Polagin, you must – for the future of us all.’

  With the care of a fastidious man Polagin replaced the brass cap on the jar and returned it to its rack. He turned and moved around to the far side of his long work table, pausing by the oil lamp before he sat. It was on a low wick and cast deep shadows over the Father’s workshop, his gaunt face looking ghastly in the dim light.

  ‘Must ?’ Polagin echoed at last, narrowing his eyes at her. ‘Why must I do anything you ask ?’

  He wore a long black robe, stained in a dozen places on the sleeves and waist, but somehow failing to look unkempt still. Instead of weapons there were pouches and vials hanging from his belt, but Synter reminded herself he was far from helpless.

  ‘This is our only opportunity,’ she urged, putting her hands on the worktop and leaning forward. ‘If we don’t now, the chance could be lost to us for ever.’

  Synter had changed her clothes since giving Kodeh his orders and now wore a close-fitting grey jacket, stiffened by overlapping steel plates sewn into the cloth. Her weapons and mask lay in a non-descript bag at her feet.

  ‘You do not know that, Synter.’ Father Polagin gave a little shake of the head. ‘You always were over-eager and impulsive as a student.’

  Synter bit back a retort and instead looked around the man’s workshop, hoping for inspiration to persuade him. They stood in the lowest levels of an orphanage run by the goshe, one of two that took in foundlings abandoned on their doorstep. Most of the children were taught a trade of some sort, the intelligent ones given clerking skills and employed to look after the economic interests of the goshe – properties, investments and bequests the order had accumulated over the years.

  The very best of them, the most loyal, were given additional training – shown the hidden face of the world by the Elders and made into weapons for their secret purpose. The Blessings were a range of magical alterations to body and mind – unearthed in secret or stolen outright from demons – that elevated their elite to the ranks of the Detenii. It was the Detenii who were entrusted with Moon’s Artifice and the purpose behind it, but it was the Elders alone who knew the fullest extent of their plan.

  ‘Impulsive ? No, not really. You just never liked the fact a woman was the best student you ever had.’

  ‘Watch your tone with me, girl,’ Polagin snapped.

  ‘No, I don’t think I will. If I was impulsive, I’d have put this kni
fe through your chest by now,’ Synter said plainly, brandishing a long-knife in the weak light. From the look on Polagin’s face she knew he hadn’t even seen her draw it.

  ‘And I’d gladly kill you,’ she continued, ‘but you’re still useful to me – just as you all need me. Year after year I see you Elders getting older and more frightened, time catching up with you despite all your Blessings and schemes. So the way I see it, we still need each other and the goal remains the same. I don’t have the skill for the final ritual, not enough to be sure, and none of you are going to survive the next few days without me.’

  Unexpectedly, Polagin laughed, a cold and grating sound. ‘You think us so feeble ? With all the Blessings we have given you, with all the power that made you more than normal mortals – you still think us weak ourselves ?’

  She shook her head. ‘I think you’re old. The Blessings have no cure for age, you’ve only staved death off a decade or two. Only success in our plans can achieve that – right now we’re at war and that’s a young man’s game, or in this case, a young woman’s. Our bargains still hold true, but if you don’t start doing what the fuck I tell you we’re all dead.’

  ‘And what do you suggest to save us from ourselves ?’ called a voice from her right.

  Synter whirled with her knife already moving, knowing them to be alone. Just as she had her hand back to throw, darting trails of light appeared around the fingers of her free hand as the shadow of a battered bureau unfolded to reveal Father Jehq, wrapped in a black cloak and faintly smiling at her surprise.

  ‘One Blessing you Detenii will not get,’ he added, ‘as useful as it might prove. I learned that lesson the hard way.’

  ‘How long have you been there ?’

  ‘Since before you came. Now – as you are so certain we are old and slow, perhaps you might put your surprise aside and tell us what we should be doing ?’

  Synter carefully sheathed her long-knife again and let the lightning playing around her fingers dissipate into nothing. ‘We need to act,’ she said firmly, ‘now – tonight.’

  ‘By poisoning the city ?’

  ‘If you heard everything,’ she said with a trace of defiance, ‘you know exactly what I mean.’

  ‘And you just expect us to trust your judgement, now at this most delicate of times ?’ Polagin demanded. ‘Jehq, the girl is mad – I told you she was never up to commanding the Detenii.’

  Jehq didn’t speak at first. Head cocked slightly to one side, he observed Synter with a strange, intense look as though staring into her soul. She bore the scrutiny in silence, fighting down her mounting impatience.

  ‘Not mad,’ he said at last, ‘and certainly no fool. We chose well I think, even if we do not like the result. This is the job we gave her, after all.’

  ‘What ? Have you lost your wits ?’

  Jehq shook his head very deliberately, gaze not leaving Synter. ‘Do you deny it, Polagin ? Did you not share the same instinct as I – to run and hide, lie low and let the Lawbringers pick over this mess until it is safe for us to act once more ?’

  ‘That is prudence, not fear.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Jehq’s expression told a different story. ‘We will do as you suggest, Synter. When do you need us to be ready ?’

  ‘We will do no such thing !’ Polagin roared. ‘Have you now assumed control of the goshe, Jehq ? We are equals – that is at the heart of everything we have done. Our circle has no leader, it never has !’

  Synter caught a slight nod from Jehq and readied herself. The white-haired man turned abruptly towards Polagin and stalked towards him, hands appearing from the folds of his robe – empty, but still threatening. Polagin reacted accordingly and retreated a step while he prepared for whatever was coming. In the next moment Synter chopped into his neck with her long-knife and hot, dark blood spurted across workbench.

  A heave of final breath came from Polagin’s ruined throat and sprayed blood down his front. The tall man shuddered and slumped over the workbench, feet scuffing on the stone floor as he kicked his last. Jehq didn’t wait for his friend to die but spread an open palm over Polagin’s face as though administering a benediction. A brief flash of blinding white light erupted from Jehq’s palm. By the time Synter’s Starsight had activated then receded again, Polagin with quite still.

  ‘He was my friend. I would not have him suffer unnecessarily.’

  Synter dipped her head in acknowledgement, knowing he wouldn’t want any comment from her.

  ‘It seems I am committed now,’ Jehq continued, ‘so what else do you need ?’

  ‘Authority,’ she replied after a moment’s thought. ‘My night’s barely started ; I need to give several sets of orders before I return here.’

  Jehq nodded and reached inside the neck of his shirt. From underneath it he pulled a scrap of metal covered in twisting lines that shone like oil in the lamplight. ‘This will convince any other Elders that you act under my authority ; they’ll not oppose you unless you do something outrageous.’

  ‘I need to move the artefact tonight,’ she said. ‘Mother Terail or Father Pallasane – either of them will notice when I do.’

  ‘One is pragmatic,’ Jehq said with a shrug, ‘the other quite mad. They will not object to boldness on our part so long as they are informed and summoned to participate. I will assemble those who can be trusted ; you mean to use the island sanatorium ?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I will have them there in time. Kill Stass and Lox, they are the ones most likely to object and demand any decision is made in committee. All your Detenii are ready to move ?’

  ‘Close enough.’

  He nodded towards the door. ‘Then go. I will have your poison ready in a few hours.’

  In a quiet, mouldering corner of the Shier Warrant on the city’s eastern extremity, Kodeh slipped through the dark streets with the stealth of a cat. The ground rose under his feet as he headed east and the mist seemed to fade away behind him as he ascended.

  This was a quiet corner of the city at night, Shier a poor district when compared to others. It was home to labourers and factories now, mills on the river bank and smallholdings in grounds that once had housed the palazzos of Imperial nobles and warriors. Little light came from the buildings around him and all was dark under a starless sky, but that was how the black-skinned Dragon preferred it. He wore his usual clothing now he was about business and moved with greater purpose, eyes ever scanning for wisps of white or some darting pale fox.

  ‘Kodeh,’ called a voice from the shadows above him, ‘you’re clear.’

  The big man grunted and glanced behind him. A dark figure, dressed in concealed armour just as he was, followed him up the street. He kept watching as more detached from the shadows around him and slipped down from the rooftops nearby. All told there were another six of them – hooded and masked. In his Starsight they looked like demons, eyes shining bright from behind a dull, expressionless mask.

  So the children of this city call us, he thought humourlessly. They’re about to learn there are worse things than the Detenii, though.

  ‘Good,’ he said once the seven were assembled in front of him. ‘Last bloody thing I needed was to pick up a tail on the way here.’

  ‘A fox-tail eh ?’ commented one. ‘Appropriate I guess.’

  Kodeh narrowed his eyes at the one he thought had spoken. ‘Who’s that ?’

  The figure gave a small bow of the head. ‘Atash, sir.’

  ‘Well, Atash – I don’t know what shit Irato let slide, but you’re playing by my rules now. This whole team needs to impress me, so any more dumb jokes and I’ll gut you, got it ?’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘Good.’ Kodeh turned and continued on up the street, his new team falling in around him. ‘Let’s get off the street then I’ll brief you all.’

  The Shier Warrant was as old as any in the Imperial City, once rural estates separate from the villages on the Crescent’s shore. Rogue towers remained along with scraps of wall, lendin
g the district a dismal air that had doubtless helped the settlement of newer districts to the west. There was another reason, however, and Kodeh made directly for it, the ground gently sloping up towards the highest point in the city.

  There the cliffs looked out along the eastern coast and an ancient tower had been converted into a lighthouse to help the navigation of the sandbanks and small islands in the bay beyond. Beside that was a grim building the size of a Great House palazzo, but different in every other way. A high wall surrounded a large courtyard, the top lined with twists of jagged wire, while on the far side of the yard loomed a block of dark stone three storeys high. From the street it appeared deserted ; unlit and silent over the sigh of the sea-breeze drifting in over its stone walls.

  Then the breeze waned briefly and Kodeh heard something else. A moan cut through the air ; faint, wordless cries that could have been an animal in pain, punctuated by clipped shouts from somewhere distant – certainly human, but equally as unfathomable.

  ‘I fucking hate this place,’ Atash muttered from behind Kodeh.

  The big Dragon spun around and grabbed Atash by the throat, slamming him into the nearest wall and ripping his mask from his face. Atash was a Wolf, Kodeh discovered – eyes so pale in Kodeh’s Starsight that they had to be yellow. His nose was uneven and scarred, giving the man a slight sneer to the lip even when he found a blade two inches from his left eye.

  ‘Not one more word, get me ?’ Kodeh growled. ‘No jokes, no bitching, no nothing except what’s necessary.’

  He felt Atash tense a moment, clearly wondering if he could draw his own weapons in time, then relax again. The man nodded as best he could and Kodeh released him.

  ‘Shift.’

  He went to the large gate set into the courtyard wall and took hold of the large iron ring that served as handle. There was no lock, but he felt it solid and secure under his touch until he’d imperceptibly squeezed the underside of the ring’s mounting, variously twisting, pulling and pushing on the ring until a quiet clunk came from the other side.