Inhuman Resources

by Jes Battis

  “Not everyone who lives in Trinovantum is a necromancer. And not all souls get the same treatment. There are catacombs underneath the city full of unmarked bones.”

  “Like Paris. Neat.”

  We passed another kiosk from which a variety of amazing smells issued. A goblin was pouring steaming batter into fantastic steel molds: tropical fish, wolves, great horned owls, and even castle battlements. A giant bat was yelling at the goblin while he cooked. The bat hung upside down from a gilded wooden perch, its leathery wings crossed over each other. The louder it screeched, the more it swung, back and forth, like a perpetual-shrieking machine. The goblin tried to cook faster.

  “Can we get an owl pancake?”

  “No. You’re not allowed to eat anything.”

  “But they smell incredible.”

  “Everything does. But it’s not worth the price.”

  “I think I should be able to decide that for myself,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the stacks of savory fish and wolves.

  “Just follow me.”

  “Is everyone only allowed to wear two colors in this city?”

  “Black fruit tends to produce naturally black dyes. So black clothes are in fashion. But you saw the tapestries—there are other colors as well.”

  “And what about the people wearing gray?”

  “Subcastes. They’re mostly domestic servants.”

  “Wow. It’s like an undead version of Monaco.”

  “Class lines run deeply in Trinovantum.”

  “What class are you?”

  He smiled slightly. “Lilium has old and powerful roots.”

  “So you’re bourgeoisie.”

  “We’re stable. We used to have more resources, but for the last few decades, the Vespertine family has been on the ascendancy. They’re the center of power. At least for the present moment.”

  We eventually reached two kiosks that had been set up close to a stone wall. The first table was presided over by a slightly stooped vulture wearing glasses. I had no idea how the glasses managed to stay on his beak, but somehow they remained in place. He was selling a variety of instruments—fountain pens, bone knives, magnifying glasses, crystals, and plants with star-shaped black berries.

  The vendor next to him was small enough that he could actually stand on the table rather than behind it. He measured about two feet tall, and was completely covered in velvety black fur. I couldn’t even see his mouth. Only his eyes were visible, and they were a luminescent green. They reminded me of the Lampyrid’s tail.

  Lucian approached the Hamakei, who was whistling softly as he (or she) dusted and rearranged the sundry items on the table. “I was speaking with a Lampyrid vendor, and she said that you sold her a Polybius Book. Can you tell me where you found it?”

  The Hamakei frowned at Lucian—if a bird could be said to frown. “Why is it any business of yours?”

  He gestured to me. “She’s from offworld, and she’s investigating the murder of a citizen. A member of the Dark Parliament, in fact. The Polybius Book may have belonged to him.”

  The Hamakei gave me a long look. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I just explained—”

  “I know why she’s here.” His small eyes narrowed even further. They looked like black peach pits behind the lenses. “I want to know how she’s here.”

  I sensed that it was best to stay quiet. It was one of the rare moments when I actually stopped talking and just let someone else do the verbal acrobatics for a while. The hidden city had that effect on me. Once you see someone smoke a book, you kind of realize that you may be out of your element.

  “She has an audience with Lord Nightingale,” Lucian said.

  “Oh, does she? How fancy.” The Hamakei snorted. “I had an audience with him once. He was supposed to grant me a license to move my kiosk closer to the entrance. I waited for three hours without ever seeing him.”

  “That must have been frustrating.”

  “It was. And my table hasn’t moved an inch. I’m still stuck with the Night Hob and his fake silverware.”

  At this, the Night Hob stamped his foot on the table and hissed something. His eyes burned an even deeper green. I realized that he looked like a very small Wookie, but I didn’t think it would do any good to tell him that.

  “Maybe we could get you that license,” Lucian continued. His voice was suddenly smooth. “We’re meeting with him momentarily. If you tell us where you got the book from, we could make it worth your while.”

  The Hamakei clicked his beak. I was surprised to see that his tongue was bright pink. The Seneschal’s tongue had been like a gray lump. Maybe it was an age thing. How could you determine if a bird was middle-aged?

  “I don’t want any trouble. I don’t always work through the regular channels, and the penalty for illegal trading is—prohibitive.”

  I could only imagine. In a city where death was enshrined and transformed into a kind of art, punishments had to be pretty lavish. There must have been a gallows tree somewhere, and it wasn’t souls that hung from it.

  “We have no interest in exposing or interrupting your channels,” Lucian assured him, “be they legitimate or otherwise. We just want to know where you found the Polybius Book.”

  The Hamakei’s long neck swayed back and forth. Then he made a sound halfway between a hiss and a chirp.

  “I got it from a Thanatar,” he said at last. “As part of an estate sale.”

  “Whose estate?”

  “Some fellow of the Dark Parliament.”

  “Which fellow? There are seven.”

  The Hamakei’s eyes narrowed to small black slits as he considered the question. Then his pink tongue darted out again, tasting the air. “What’s your house?”

  Lucian’s smile vanished. His hand lashed out, grabbing the Hamakei’s skinny neck. The bird squawked. Lucian drew him closer.

  “¡Escúchame, hijo de gallinazo!” he whispered. “My family history is none of your business. Tell us where you got the book from, and how we can transport it offworld—then we’ll get you the license to move your wares. Keep trying to extort us, and you’ll get nothing.”

  He let go of the Hamakei’s neck. The bird shook itself, looking visibly distressed.

  “Fine, fine. You don’t have to get violent.” He blinked. “You’ll need a crucible to hold the book if you’re taking it offworld. Your precious Lord Nightingale may be able help you with that, if he’s feeling so inclined.”

  Lucian nodded slowly. “And?”

  The Hamakei sighed. “The one who gave me the book didn’t tell me his name. He was a Thanatar—who was I to argue? But supposedly it belonged to another Dark Parliament fellow who died. Ordeño was the name.”

  I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Luiz Ordeño?”

  The Hamakei seemed to notice me for the first time. “Yes. After he died, his estate was sold off in pieces. I had my ear close to the ground—which meant that I got most of the pieces. The book wouldn’t sell, though. Too dangerous. Only one willing to take it off my hands was the Lampyrid, but she just loves to collect things.”

  “When did you meet with this—what’s he called again?”

  “A Thanatar,” Lucian said. “One of Lord Nightingale’s guards.”

  “Right. When did he give you the book?”

  “A week ago. The Lampyrid’s had it since then, but it’s never going to sell.” He looked darkly satisfied. “She gave me forty moon-grubs for it. Excellent deal.”

  Apparently, to a bird, grubs were worth more than books. But I wasn’t thinking too much about the particulars of the exchange. One week ago, Ordeño had still been alive. As alive as any necromancer could be, strictly speaking. But this Thanatar had said that he was already dead, and that his estate was being sold.

  I turned to Lucian. “Someone’s lying. I don’t know who yet, but maybe this Lord Nightingale can clear some things up.”

  “Doubtful,” the Hamakei said. “He never says anything that makes sense.�
��

  Lucian ignored him. “We’ll have to take transit to Nightingale’s court. It’s not too far, but I’d rather not walk.”

  “Is there a subway?”

  “Not exactly. You’ll see.”

  The Hamakei gave Lucian a hopeful look. “About that license—”

  But he was already walking away.

  “We’ll try,” I said. “Thanks for your cooperation.” But he’d already returned to polishing his wares, mumbling to himself in some impenetrable dialect. It seemed to be the only activity that he genuinely enjoyed.

  17

  “This place is like an acid trip,” I said, once I’d caught up to Lucian.

  “Wait until we get to Spidergate.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Don’t worry.” He put an arm lightly on my shoulder. “There are three gates that lead to Lord Nightingale’s court. This one is by far the least bad.”

  “What are the others like?”

  “It’s probably better not to know. First we have to find some transportation.”

  We made our way through the market crowds, which gradually thinned out the farther we got from the main entrance. The square branched off into a number of narrow streets, like spokes on a wheel.

  “Try not to look back once we take this road,” Lucian said.

  “Look back at what? The market?”

  He nodded. “Just keep your eyes on the road ahead of you. Sometimes the streets have a mind of their own.”

  We walked for a few minutes, passing only a few scattered buildings that I couldn’t identify. They may have been houses, or stores, or banks, for all I knew. Everything was made from the same pale stone, with leaded glass windows and heavily reinforced doors. Some of the buildings had massive stone balconies, but they were all empty and choked with leaves.

  Despite Lucian’s advice, I looked back, just for a second. Instead of seeing the market in the distance, I saw white fog. The fog obscured everything. Confused, I turned back to the path, but it was gone.

  “Lucian?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. “Lucian, I looked back! I didn’t mean to, but now—”

  I felt a warm hand close around mine. He stepped out of the fog. I don’t think I’d ever been more relieved to see him.

  “I warned you,” he said. But his tone was more playful than anything else. He squeezed my hand. “Stay close.”

  “Where did the fog come from?”

  “It was always there. You just didn’t see it.”

  I decided not to puzzle out that particular statement.

  The fog thinned, and we emerged into a small square lined with hedges. Silver flowers grew within the hedges, their thorns glistening. In the center of the square was round structure made of stone.

  “Is that a well?”

  “More like a pool. Come see.”

  I could hear something splashing as we approached. Please let it be fish, I thought. Just fish. No monsters.

  I peered over the rim of the stone pool. At first, all I could see were indistinct shapes moving in the water. Then a pair of red eyes appeared, followed by a snout. I heard something clicking against the surface of the stone. The creature rose to the surface, revealing a long, muscular neck with a matted green mane that looked like tangled seaweed. Its glowing eyes gave the water a reddish cast, and I could see other creatures swimming around it. They seemed to be made partly of liquid, their dark shapes swelling and shrinking in waves as they circled one another.

  “They’re Nightmares,” Lucian said. “They’ll take us to the court.”

  “Are they made of water?”

  “Among other things.” He extended his hand, and I saw that he’d taken a black apple from one of the kiosks. The Nightmare breathed cautiously for a few seconds, eyeing the apple with some skepticism. Then it reached forward, lowering its snout. Lucian extended his open palm a bit farther, and the Nightmare snapped the apple up in its jaws, eating it in one bite.

  “There’s another apple in my pocket,” he said. “Go for it.”

  “I don’t want to lose a finger.”

  “Don’t worry. They’re herbivores.”

  I took the apple and approached the stone pool. Three more sets of red eyes regarded me, waiting for my next move.

  I held the apple over the edge. After a few seconds, another Nightmare reared up from the water. It leaned in closer, until its head was a few inches away from my hand. Part of its body was still submerged, and I couldn’t tell where the flesh began and the liquid ended. Its mane was a green-brown color, dripping and matted with bits of stone, broken shells, and a few small bones. Its breath was cold and smelled like damp earth.

  “Hey, there,” I said.

  The Nightmare leapt over the rim of the stone pool, landing on the ground a foot away from me. As its hooves touched the earth, they solidified, but still retained a liquid quality. It shook itself vigorously, and I tasted salt water.

  The creature examined me for a moment. Then it reached out and took the apple from me, halving it with a loud crunch. I could see its teeth working to tear the apple flesh intos pieces. Its front incisors were black and sharp, like a row of thin stalactites.

  “How are we supposed to ride them without saddles?”

  “Just wait. They’ll show you.”

  I waited for my Nightmare to finish chewing its apple. It paused for a few seconds, as if to savor the meal. Then it slowly lowered itself to the ground, dropping to its haunches. I climbed shakily onto its back, which was wet and smooth. Its fur reminded me of damp sand.

  “I’m really not sure about—”

  Before I could finish, the Nightmare rose in one fluid motion, forcing me to grab onto its mane. My fingers curled around the hair, which felt more like plant fibers, soft and slightly sticky.

  Lucian had already mounted. He smiled in my direction. “You did great.”

  “Sure. But I have no idea how to ride a horse.”

  “You don’t really ride them, per se. You just tell them where to go, and they do the rest. Like this.” He leaned forward and whispered something into the Nightmare’s ear. It made a small sound in reply that could have been a whinny, but more closely resembled a bubbling coffeemaker.

  “Just say, ‘Nightingale’s court,’ ” he said. “That should be enough.”

  Still holding on to the wet mane, I leaned forward and whispered, “Nightingale’s court,” into my Nightmare’s ear. It made no reply, but I got the impression that it understood what I was saying.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Just hold on.”

  I felt the Nightmare’s body tense underneath me. Then there was an odd pinching sensation, somewhere in the back of my brain, which reminded me of that feeling when a headache is about to blossom.

  Suddenly everything shifted. The clearing went black, then white, as if it had been buried in snow. I felt a penetrating cold. I tried to grip the horse’s mane tighter, but I couldn’t move my fingers. When I breathed in, it was like swallowing ice.

  Something pushed me forward. I was sailing through empty space, my stomach suddenly in my mouth. Every atom in my body seemed to be unable to decide whether it should stay together or fly violently apart.

  I saw a stream of disconnected images: snakes, rabbits, the mouth of a cave, fire, dark waves, a bridge swaying back and forth, metal dripping blood, and a dog spitting as it barked, louder and louder.

  For a few seconds, I felt as if I was being buried underneath tonnes of earth, and I couldn’t scream or even move. The sound froze into icicles within my throat.

  Then the world blinked back into focus.

  I was breathing hard. I realized that we were on an entirely different road. The Nightmares had vanished completely, and the sudden lurch of standing up made me stumble forward, tripping from vertigo. Lucian’s hand steadied me. I turned around and stared at him.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “Sorry.” He smiled ruefully. “I was goin
g to warn you, but I thought it might only be worse if you were expecting it.”

  “Where did the horses go?”

  “Back to the pool. In a sense, they never actually left.” He kept his hand on my shoulder. The slight pressure was reassuring. “Nightmares can move at the speed of thought. Instead of galloping along the ground, they travel through people’s fears. In order to reach a place, they have to jump from fear to fear. That’s why you probably saw a lot of strange images.”

  I frowned. “I saw rabbits.”

  “A lot of people are scared of rabbits.”

  “But they weren’t like the Holy Grail rabbit. They were cute and cuddly.”

  “Some people are scared of cute and cuddly things.”

  I shook my head. “Traveling through people’s nightmares is disorienting. I felt like I was trapped in a horror movie.”

  “It takes some getting used to.”

  “I’d much rather ride a hopes-and-dreams horse. Something that shows you cotton candy and winning the lottery.”

  “Unfortunately, they don’t exist. But traveling by Nightmare is quite efficient. We crossed at least five miles in less than a few seconds.”

  “Will we have to ride them back to the market as well?”

  “Probably.”

  “Great.”

  I followed him down the unfamiliar road, which was lined with trees. The fog was here as well, but it seemed slightly more cautious, gathering along the sides of the path without encroaching on it. This time, I resisted the urge to look back.

  After a few minutes, the road ended abruptly at the foot of a stone wall. The wall was surrounded by trees and undergrowth, so it was difficult to get an idea of its exact size. But there was a sense of gravity to it. I could feel the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stirring slightly as we drew nearer. There was definitely an active materia cluster here, and it seemed to extend in all directions, like a nebula.

  We followed the wall until we came to a set of double doors. They were made from what looked like a curious red iron. The metal was heavily oxidized, and etched with symbols that I couldn’t quite make out. I took a step forward, but Lucian grabbed my arm lightly, holding me back.