by Edward Cox
‘It’s good to see you both again,’ he said.
Marney embraced the old man, squeezing him tightly. Tears sprang from her eyes. She looked like a child clinging to her father.
Denton, Clara thought. She had heard that name before. Samuel and Van Bam had mentioned him, and always fondly. An old agent of the Relic Guild, an empath like Marney. But Denton hadn’t survived Fabian Moor’s first incursion into Labrys Town during the Genii War.
As Denton held Marney, his eyes found Clara’s. ‘You have travelled your path bravely and wisely, and all for the greater good.’
‘I sort of didn’t have a choice,’ Clara replied evenly. ‘So, all this time, you were behind the avatar?’
‘All a part of Lady Amilee’s plan.’ Denton stroked Marney’s hair fondly. ‘My ghost has been serving the Skywatcher for many years. And quite willingly.’
‘They’ve been waiting for us, Clara.’ Marney looked up at him. ‘This all started back during the Genii War, when Denton and I went to the Library of Glass and Mirrors. I couldn’t remember until now.’
‘And with good reason,’ he said. ‘Amilee has worked hard to hide her plans from the skies, from Spiral’s vision.’
The way the two empaths stared at each other with such affectionate recognition, sharing years of experiences, made Clara realise that for all she had been through, it would be a long time before she was embedded in the Relic Guild’s history. But she was tired; she was bruised and beaten; she had watched Van Bam die, heard the voice of the Timewatcher, been hunted by her own magic, and enough was enough.
‘You know,’ she said with strained patience, ‘Samuel told me once that empaths take a long time to get to the point. I don’t suppose you’d like to prove him wrong, would you?’
Denton chuckled. ‘Samuel might not be the best role model you could choose, Clara, but I take your meaning. You are long overdue an explanation.’
Gently, Denton coaxed Marney away from him so they could both address the changeling. ‘Before the war even began, Spiral had divined many of the Timewatcher’s future actions. He knew that She would abandon the Labyrinth and the Houses of the Aelfir. He foresaw the coming of the Retrospective. Most importantly, he divined the creation of Oldest Place, but he could not foresee exactly where the Timewatcher would hide his prison.’
‘But what he did discover,’ Marney added, ‘was that a record of certain things he couldn’t see would be held at the Library of Glass and Mirrors.’
‘And I guess this is where you two come in,’ Clara said, urging the story along.
‘Fabian Moor knew that his lord and master had planned for both winning and losing the war,’ Denton said. ‘Though we didn’t realise it until late in the game, Moor had been biding his time, waiting for the Relic Guild agent who would go to the Library of Glass and Mirrors and return with the location of Oldest Place.’ Denton grinned. ‘Me.’
‘But he didn’t get what he wanted from you,’ Clara pointed out.
‘No, because Denton gave it to me,’ said Marney. ‘I didn’t know it at the time, and I only started remembering on the night Fabian Moor returned.’
‘And then you gave it to me,’ Clara said drily. ‘But does anything you did matter any more? The Genii know the location of Oldest Place and Spiral is probably free by now. Why didn’t anyone stop his plans back then?’
‘Divining the infinite variables of the future, even for a Skywatcher, is more complicated than we could ever understand. So much is hindered by luck, chance, opportunity.’ Denton removed his hat and began twisting it in his hands. ‘Spiral’s arrogance was his downfall. He was so certain that Known Things was a perfect creation, that no one would be able to glean his secrets. Sadly for him but lucky for us, Known Things wasn’t as watertight as he believed.’
‘The Library held a record of Known Things,’ Marney said, as though she was constantly surprised by memories she was suddenly recalling. ‘Unbeknown to Spiral, he had revealed more about his future plans than he’d intended to. And what Denton discovered was that Spiral never expected to win the war.’
‘There was nothing much to go on,’ Denton added. ‘Scraps and fragments of Known Things’ contents, more like ideas – and certainly not enough for Lady Amilee to convince the Timewatcher that Spiral had planned for losing the war, had perhaps always meant to lose it. But coupled with the information stored inside a message sphere sent by Baran Wolfe shortly before his death, Amilee slowly pieced together a vision of Spiral’s future. She divined that at some indeterminate point the Lord of the Genii would return. But by the time Amilee knew this for certain, the next stage of Spiral’s plan had already been set in motion. The Timewatcher and the Thaumaturgists had disappeared from all of our lives and there was no one left to stand in his way.’
‘Except Amilee,’ Clara said.
‘She stayed because she had to,’ Denton said. ‘She put her countermeasures into action because she knew that Spiral had to return. Only when freed from Oldest Place could he be destroyed.’
Clara nodded. ‘But not by us.’
‘Without the Timewatcher, without the Thaumaturgists, Amilee waited for the Genii to make their move. And then she made hers, using what remained of the Relic Guild as unknowing participants in her scheme.’
‘And as it turns out,’ Marney said, ‘nearly everything the Relic Guild did during the Genii War served to gather the information and time that Amilee needed to form her plan. Now it’s up to us to do the rest.’
‘All right,’ said Clara. ‘I understand, but … please tell me this leads to the Nephilim.’
‘Ah, yes, our lost saviours,’ Denton said. ‘I learned at the Library of Glass and Mirrors that the whereabouts of the Nephilim was stored inside Spiral’s not-so-perfect records device, but that we would have to get inside it to find them.’ He gave a flourish of his hand, encompassing the room. ‘And the information is stored right here, in the last dregs of Known Things, wrapped in my memory, which I planted in Marney’s mind, and she in turn hid in yours, Clara.’
His good cheer evaporated as the door rattled, followed by the bestial cry of Clara’s magic.
‘I regret that I never got the chance to say goodbye,’ Denton said quickly to Marney. ‘After I planted the information in your mind, I told Amilee what I’d learned and she doctored my memory. We needed to prevent Fabian Moor from finding out just how much I’d discovered at the Library of Glass and Mirrors. We needed to force his hand.’
‘We really did try to kill him on that night, you know,’ Marney said. ‘He almost got me.’
‘It might be difficult to stomach, Marney, but Moor’s survival – and yours – ensured Spiral’s vulnerability. Amilee needed to keep the location of Oldest Place secret until such a time as she could understand and exploit Spiral’s weak spot – the Nephilim – and she … we had simply run out of options.’
‘I know.’
‘I have always been so damn proud of you.’
Marney sank into his embrace and fresh tears filled her eyes. Clara watched, wondering if she was witnessing a moment that had been waiting to happen for forty years.
‘You have to leave, don’t you?’ Marney said.
‘My part in this little game is over.’ Denton put his hat on and winked at Clara. ‘Adventures into the unknown are waiting for me.’
Clara smiled sadly.
‘Take me with you,’ Marney said – pleaded. ‘There’s nothing left for me now, I could—’
‘No, no, no – your part in this hasn’t ended yet, Marney.’ The door rattled again and Denton’s face became grave. ‘Though I don’t envy you the path you’re about to walk. Goodbye, my dear, dear friend.’
Marney held him tightly, as though she never wanted to let go.
Denton looked at Clara, a strange glint in his eye. ‘I can lead you to the secrets of the Nephilim but I can’t prepare
you for what happens next. Good luck, Clara.’
Even as Marney wept in Denton’s arms, the old empath broke apart into thousands of tiny blue lights. Drifting like dandelion heads, they swarmed together, flying up to re-form into a glowing sphere atop its lamp post.
Clara gasped. To her astonishment, Marney now stood in someone else’s embrace.
‘Van Bam!’
It was definitely the illusionist, though much younger than the man Clara knew, somewhere in his mid-twenties. He was dressed in his usual dark trousers and shirt that appeared to be made from the night sky. His head was as smoothly shaved as always, but there were no metal plates covering his brown eyes as he gazed lovingly at Marney. He pulled the empath into a passionate kiss.
Clara couldn’t take her eyes off them. A feeling rose inside her – perhaps from magic emoted by Marney – and it told Clara all she needed to know. Marney and Van Bam had been lovers, and not even their decades of separation had dulled their feelings. Seeing them now clinched in a kiss somehow made sense to Clara. They looked right – as though they were supposed to be together.
‘Thank you for finding me, Clara,’ Van Bam said as he and Marney broke their kiss.
‘No problem.’ Clara smiled lopsidedly. ‘Figured you’d do the same for me.’
‘I am impressed by how easily you have adapted to our symbiosis. It was not so easy for me and Gideon.’
‘Well …’ Clara blinked. ‘What?’
Van Bam stared at her for a moment, scrutinising her, before returning his gaze to Marney. ‘You have not told her, have you?’
Marney placed her hand upon his cheek. ‘I thought it would be better coming from you.’
‘Told me what?’ Clara asked.
With his eyes still on Marney, Van Bam said, ‘The Nightshade has been watching you.’
Clara’s frown was deep. ‘What’s going on? Where’re the Nephilim?’
‘Clara,’ said Van Bam, his voice deep and comforting, ‘the Nightshade is a sentient building. For generations, its magic has selected who among us will govern the denizens. And from the moment you stepped within its walls, the Nightshade recognised you.’
Van Bam and Marney looked unconcerned as the door rattled with a howl of rage. They only had eyes for each other.
‘What are you talking about?’ Clara demanded.
‘Don’t you see?’ Marney said. ‘That’s why you could hear Gideon’s voice. That’s why Van Bam is in your mind now. He’s your spirit guide.’
‘The Nightshade chose you, Clara,’ Van Bam said. ‘You are the Resident of Labrys Town.’
Clara almost laughed at the absurdity of the statement, but her rogue magic hit the door with such force it split wood. To the sound of vicious snarling and gouging talons, the door groaned and bowed inwards.
Van Bam kissed Marney again, quickly, desperately, before turning to Clara. ‘Here,’ he held out a fist. ‘The final shard of Known Things.’ He opened his fingers to reveal the star of green light shining on his palm. ‘Take it. It will tell you everything you need to know about the Nephilim.’
Clara stared at it and licked her lips uncertainly.
‘Take the bloody thing!’ Marney shouted as the door buckled and began to fall apart.
Confused, daunted, but compelled by the deafening howl that filled the library, Clara clasped Van Bam’s hand. As the door exploded into a million splinters, the changeling tumbled into an abyss filled with green light and the whispers of blood-magic.
Samuel carried Marney to a whitewashed room high in the Tower of the Skywatcher. Clara was there, lying unconscious on a padded table. And she wasn’t alone. Samuel placed Marney down on a table matching Clara’s, then stared around at the next surprise in this apparently endless game of secrets.
Clinging to the walls and ceiling, the one hundred pieces of the Toymaker watched over Clara. The assassin who had been tracking the group since their escape from the Labyrinth was no longer a foe, but rather Amilee’s servant and the Relic Guild’s ally. Samuel was dubious, but his magic detected no danger from the hand-sized automatons. The only member of the group who showed no fear of the silver insectoids was Bellow, who studied them with fascination.
‘Gulduur,’ Amilee said, prompting him towards the changeling and the empath. ‘If you would …’
Marney was not as lost as people had supposed. She had transferred a copy of her mind into Clara’s; that was what Marney had done with a kiss on the night Fabian Moor returned. Now she and Clara were searching the contents of Known Things, which the changeling had somehow gained access to. Samuel didn’t really understand and he didn’t care to; he only understood that his fellow magickers were searching for the salvation of everyone.
Leaving Bellow to work his unique brand of thaumaturgic blood-magic in an attempt to reunite Marney with her mind, Amilee led Samuel, Namji, Hillem and Glogelder to the small reception hall outside the room. And there they discussed the revelations that Amilee had been sharing with them on the way to this floor of the tower.
‘The Nephilim?’ Namji said. ‘They are the secret weapon that will destroy Spiral?’
‘Only the Timewatcher truly understood how strong the Nephilim are,’ Amilee said. ‘I sometimes wonder if they frighten even Her.’ She looked back at the closed door to the room where Marney and Clara lay. ‘Now all we have to do is find them.’
Considering that he had just met his creator, Bellow had remained remarkably calm and compliant. Hamir had taken his leave from the group a while earlier, and Samuel couldn’t blame him. The truth of Hamir’s origins was finally out after all these years, but Samuel didn’t really care.
He didn’t care that the elderly necromancer was a disgraced Thaumaturgist, stripped of rank and power for murdering a hundred humans, and who had become the legend the Nephilim called the Progenitor. He didn’t care that the group had reached the sanctuary of Amilee’s tower and the Skywatcher was finally providing some answers. That the Nephilim herd, nearly a thousand creatures of higher magic, were just waiting to save all of the Houses in existence meant nothing to Samuel. Not at that moment. Because Van Bam was dead. And the pain of it stabbed into Samuel’s soul.
‘What about you, my lady?’ Hillem said respectfully. ‘Surely having a Skywatcher on our side still counts for something in this fight?’
Amilee smiled wanly. ‘You’re not exactly catching me at my best. Beyond what I have already done, I am now largely powerless.’
Much to Samuel’s chagrin, the rest of the group seemed keen to bypass Van Bam’s death and focus on the task ahead. Hillem stood alongside Namji, both of them unfazed by meeting a Thaumaturgist for the first time. Or maybe it was because the Skywatcher looked so frail and old and unimposing in her purple robes that they spoke to her so directly. Glogelder, who had apparently given up on being daunted by anything, helped himself to the nutrition cakes and water set out for them on a glass table.
Samuel sat next to the big Aelf on one of the cushioned sofas that formed a semicircle in the reception hall. He recalled visiting Amilee’s House in his younger days, and how the tower’s rooms had appeared magical, providing whatever a person needed at any given moment – a little like the rooms in the Nightshade. He also recalled Amilee’s miserable Aelfirian aide, Alexander, who now haunted the tower as a ghost.
‘Beg your pardon, my lady,’ Glogelder said through a mouthful of food. ‘What exactly have you done – besides leading us on a merry chase, that is?’
Amilee considered Glogelder, perhaps trying to decide if his manner was disrespectful or just as gruff as his appearance suggested.
‘I did the only thing I could,’ the Skywatcher said stiffly. ‘At the end of the war, I remained in my tower while the rest of my kind fled back to Mother Earth. I created a mindscape – a garden – a personal slipstream much like Spiral’s Known Things. And there I made plots and plans of my own, an
d hid them from divination.’
‘And then you sent your avatar with instructions for us,’ said Namji. ‘Which weren’t always particularly clear, my lady.’
Amilee clasped her hands before her. ‘I was never as strong as Spiral – none of us were. And I think we can agree that he proved just how powerful a Skywatcher he became.’ She looked at Samuel but he averted his gaze. ‘I had to conduct my plans in a clandestine fashion otherwise Spiral would have divined my counteractions from the skies and stars.
‘Forty years I hid in my garden, watching, listening, planning, waiting for a time when the Genii returned and the Relic Guild were needed again. I spent too long in my own personal slipstream and it sapped the last of my thaumaturgy. What little remains of my magic is bound to my tower. If I leave, I will die.’
‘Is there nothing you can do?’ Namji asked.
A distant look came to Amilee’s eyes. ‘My magic will rekindle itself in time, but that will be too much time to be of help to you.’ She fell into a moment’s reverie before snapping out of it. ‘But everything I have done has led us to this moment, and I will help you to exploit the heart of Spiral’s weakness. He does not know that we hold the key to the Nephilim’s prison.’
‘Could they really do it, though?’ Hillem said as he poured himself a glass of water. ‘I mean, if Spiral has control of the Retrospective, can anyone beat him now?’
‘Have no doubt that until he claims the First and Greatest Spell, the Lord of the Genii is not impervious to death,’ Amilee replied sternly. ‘Time is a factor, but Spiral believes he has more time than he does. We have the secrets of Known Things.’ Her tawny eyes bored into Samuel’s, and this time he did not avert his pale blue glare. ‘And yes, it cost us dear to get them.’
The Aelfir tensed, looking at Samuel to gauge his reaction. With fatigue in his ageing body, hollowness in his soul, the old bounty hunter turned his gaze to the floor. He felt Glogelder lean away from him as Amilee approached. Gently, she reached under Samuel’s chin and lifted his face to meet hers. He saw some of the splendour, some of the beauty of the Skywatcher he had known in his youth. The black diamond tattoo of the Thaumaturgists on her forehead seemed to blaze from her pale skin like a symbol of hope.
