by Edward Cox
Samuel nodded as he finished tying the policeman’s hands to the back of the chair. He stood up, feeling irritated. ‘But he didn’t tell me you were on this one too.’
‘No. Well … you know what our leader is like, Samuel. Why do things the easy way when he can have his fun? I have to say I’m glad you’re here, nonetheless. I’m not really comfortable with this kind of work.’
Samuel swallowed his resentment. This was so typical of Gideon, to assign two of his agents to the same mission without informing one of the other’s involvement. It was his haphazard and spiteful way of sending a message of admonishment. The Resident was telling Samuel to be less keen in his desire to work alone. And Gene was being warned that he could not always stand back while the other agents got blood on their hands.
But where Samuel was used to Gideon’s little games, and could adapt to them, Gene found them hard. Never having been blessed with a brave heart, he had earned himself the reputation of a quiet coward. Not that Gene didn’t serve the Relic Guild well; but even the thought of a situation like this would terrify him … and amuse Gideon deeply.
Samuel was rarely troubled by compassion, but when he saw the lines of age and concern on Gene’s face, the way his eyes avoided the unconscious police officers slumped at the dining table, he felt sorry for the old apothecary.
‘Why don’t you head off?’ he told him. ‘I can take things from here.’
‘It’s a thoughtful offer, Samuel, but no.’ Gene attempted a smile. ‘I might be old and weak, but I’m still a professional. I’ll see this job through to the end.’
Despite Gene’s defiant claim, Samuel thought it more likely that he was staying because he was afraid of Gideon; and Gideon had probably given him strict instructions to remain until the end, no matter what.
He mentioned nothing of this to Gene and watched as his colleague held the phial steady in one hand, while poising the index finger of his free hand above the uncorked opening.
The apothecary’s face was now a mask of concentration. He squeezed his finger with a thumb. After a moment, clear fluid began to drip from his fingertip into the phial.
Gene’s gift never failed to strike Samuel with its strangeness. From the chemicals and minerals in his own body it seemed Gene could manufacture every kind of poison, potion and remedy, and then excrete them through his skin. Samuel had often witnessed him use his fingers like hypodermic needles to administer help or harm to a person. But never once had he seen Gene act as if his magic was something he was proud of.
Gene replaced the cork. ‘Here,’ he said, handing the phial to Samuel. ‘You’d better take charge of this.’
‘What is it?’
‘Antitoxin.’ Gene shrugged. ‘Gideon wants one of them left alive.’
Without further explanation, the apothecary took an ampoule from his coat pocket and cracked it open. He first held it under the nose of Lansdale, and then of Hope. As Gene stepped back, both police officers began to stir. Samuel took a seat at the dining table between them with the phial of antitoxin in hand.
Lansdale, his face unshaven, a sheen of sweat on his brow, was the first to reach full consciousness. He seemed confused as he stared across the table at Hope. Then he realised his hands were tied to the back of the chair, and – finally – noticed the two other people in the kitchen.
‘What’s going on here?’ he slurred. He shook his head to clear the fog. ‘What’re you doing?’
Hope seemed less confused. She sized up the situation far quicker than her fellow constable. Her lips trembled, and her eyes were wide with fear.
Gene cleared his throat. ‘The Nightshade has been watching you.’
‘Shit,’ Hope whimpered.
‘You have both been poisoned,’ Gene continued. Even though his voice was steady and devoid of emotion, Samuel noted he still could not meet the eyes of the captives. ‘Should you doubt this, I would ask you to consider the slight burning sensation you are experiencing in your stomachs.’
Both constables froze and looked at each other across the table. Their expressions gave silent confirmation they were indeed feeling this.
‘The poison is reacting with your stomach acid. The pain will continue to grow, slowly, until it becomes quite unbearable. The chemical reaction will burn a hole straight through you, and you will not survive. However, there is a cure.’
Taking his cue, Samuel leant forwards and placed the phial on the table between Lansdale and Hope. They both tried to reach for it, but struggled in vain against their bonds.
‘We’re police officers,’ Lansdale shouted, his voice angry but laced with panic. ‘You can’t do this to us—’
‘Shut up, you idiot,’ Hope hissed. She glanced first at Gene and then at Samuel. ‘They can do what they want. They’re the Resident’s men.’
Lansdale reacted as if he had been slapped. He licked his lips and cast furtive glances at the agents.
‘She’s quite right,’ Gene told him. He hesitated, and gave Samuel an almost apologetic look. ‘And you should know there is only enough antitoxin to save one person. Whichever of you is most helpful to our inquiries will live.’
Another tactic of Gideon’s, Samuel knew. But as cruel as it was to force Gene into this position, he could see the clever trickery in the plan already at work. Lansdale and Hope stared at each other, their eyes alight with betrayal.
‘Let’s start with what we already know,’ Samuel said with a nod to Gene. The apothecary seemed grateful to relinquish the lead. ‘The two of you were recently assigned to sentry duty. You were supposed to be guarding a portal in the northern district. Your orders were to make sure that no one tried to use it. But instead of doing your job, you sold the use of that portal to a treasure hunter named Carrick.’
‘Never heard of him,’ Lansdale said quickly. Too quickly. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but you’ve got the wrong man. I swear, I’m loyal to the Resident.’
‘Give it a rest,’ Hope told her fellow officer. There were tears in her eyes and a crack in her voice. ‘They obviously know everything.’
‘No, not quite,’ said Samuel. ‘But let’s make sure we have all the cards on the table. Not only did you allow Carrick to leave the Labyrinth, but also to return with a very dangerous artefact. You were due to meet him tonight in this house to collect your payment. For this reason, one of you is going to die. Now, which of you set up the deal?’
‘She did,’ Lansdale blurted. ‘She made all the arrangements.’
‘That’s a lie,’ Hope said, and two tears ran down her cheeks. ‘He and Carrick were friends before I even met him—’
‘Shut your mouth,’ Lansdale shouted. ‘You’re the liar.’
‘You have to believe me,’ Hope pleaded to Samuel. ‘I don’t want to die—’
‘And you think I do?’ Lansdale said to Gene.
‘Please listen to me. I—’
‘No, don’t listen to her—’
Lansdale fell silent as Samuel drew his revolver and held it to his head.
Samuel looked at Hope. ‘You first.’
‘Th-Thank you,’ she said and sniffed. ‘I won’t try to convince you that I didn’t go along with it for the money. I mean, that’d be stupid, right?’
‘Just get on with it,’ Samuel growled.
Hope stifled a sob. ‘He introduced me to Carrick. He’s always in the eastern district or along Green Glass Row, hanging around with those sorts.’
Samuel pressed the barrel of his gun harder against Lansdale’s head as he made to object, and Hope continued.
‘I knew what I was getting into. I knew it was wrong. But a constable’s wage isn’t much, and with the war going on, there aren’t many ways left to make extra money. I didn’t mean anything bad to happen.’ She began to weep, and struggled with words as she addressed Lansdale. ‘We knew that artefact was trouble th
e moment Carrick returned, didn’t we?’ She turned her liquid eyes to Samuel. ‘Only one of his team came back with him—’
‘Llewellyn,’ Samuel said. ‘Yes, I met him. He’s dead now. So is Carrick.’
Hope closed her eyes, her weeping intensifying.
Samuel turned to Lansdale and removed the gun from his head, though he didn’t holster it. ‘What’s your side?’
Lansdale’s mouth was open slightly, and he stared at his colleague with undisguised disbelief.
‘You bitch,’ he spat.
‘Be civil,’ Samuel said. ‘Your life depends on it.’
‘Civil?’ Lansdale looked at Samuel with a furious expression. ‘When she’s lying through her teeth? I’ve only ever been to Green Glass Row when on duty.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes! The first time I met Carrick was the night she brought him and his crew to the portal. I didn’t have any choice but to go along with it. She said I was an accomplice whether I wanted to be or not. If I didn’t take the money and keep my mouth shut, she said she’d set me up to take the blame. Just like she’s doing now!’
Hope looked up and her face was tear-streaked. ‘That’s not true,’ she whispered. ‘We got into this together, Lansdale. Why—’
‘Bitch!’ Lansdale roared. He leant forward, straining against his bonds, as though desperate to reach across the table and throttle his accomplice.
Samuel shoved him back in his chair. He placed the revolver on the table, picked up the phial of antitoxin, and shared a quick look with Gene.
‘I have one last question. Who else was involved? Was it just you two, or did Carrick pay off anyone else in the police force?’
‘Ask her,’ Lansdale snapped, still fuming. ‘She arranged everything.’
Hope shook her head at her colleague. ‘I don’t know. He never mentioned anyone else. I don’t suppose there was any need for help – it was only me and him guarding that portal, after all.’
‘Well then …’ Samuel sat back in his chair and studied the contents of the phial for a moment.
He looked at Lansdale. ‘You know, I have a friend with a talent for spotting liars. I thought this would be hard without his help, but I think I can tell for myself who’s not telling the truth here.’
‘What?’ Lansdale began to panic. ‘No, I—’
He broke off as Samuel snatched up his revolver and swung it around to smash into the side of Hope’s head. The policewoman slumped sideways in her seat, unconscious. A line of blood trickled down her face from a cut in her temple.
Lansdale made a choking sound, looking from one Relic Guild agent to the other with wide eyes. ‘You … You believe me?’
Samuel didn’t answer. He rose and grabbed Lansdale’s hair, yanking his head back. With his free hand, he took the phial and popped the cork with his thumb. Lansdale could only utter a small noise of complaint before he was spluttering on the contents of the phial pouring down his throat. No sooner had he swallowed the antitoxin than he too slumped in his seat and fell unconscious.
Samuel gave Gene an enquiring look.
‘I added a sedative to the mix,’ Gene explained. The small apothecary looked at Hope and sighed. ‘Do you really think she was lying?’
‘Does it make a difference?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Gene said miserably.
Samuel looked at Lansdale. ‘Let’s get him back to the Nightshade. There’s an eye on the church outside. I’ll go and call for the Resident’s tram—’
‘No.’ Gene’s tone was flat. ‘Gideon wants him left here. By the time he wakes up, he’ll be in police custody. Our Resident is concerned that other officers might decide to use the portals for a profitable sideline. The example made of Lansdale will serve as a deterrent.’
He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Samuel, would you mind leaving? The poison I’ve given this woman will …’ He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. ‘Gideon wants Hope’s pain to be as bad as I can make it, but I don’t want that on my conscience. I’d like to be alone with her. Before she wakes up, I’d like to … you see, I thought I could do it, but no one deserves to suffer that much, and—’
‘It’s all right, Gene,’ Samuel said. ‘I’ll leave.’
‘Thank you,’ the apothecary whispered, and he put on his glasses.
There was really nothing else to say. The job was done, and if Gene needed to appease his conscience by giving this woman a painless death, then Samuel wouldn’t stand in his way. With a nod to the apothecary, he turned and strode from the kitchen.
‘Samuel,’ Gene called after him.
‘Don’t worry,’ Samuel called back. ‘I won’t say a word to anyone.’
Least of all to Gideon, he thought, as he left the house.
The next morning, Marney awoke with a clear mind and refreshed body. It was the best she had felt since becoming an agent of the Relic Guild. It was as though something had bloomed inside her during the hours of sleep, something good. It was everything she could have hoped for, but she couldn’t fully explain it.
There was a war on, she reminded herself; there was a Genii on the loose in Labrys Town; Van Bam was absent from her bed, and there would be little or no chance in the coming days for the two of them to spend time together privately. All these grave facts Marney acknowledged with the full weight of understanding, yet still she could not deny the sense of fulfilment and acceptance she had awoken with. She felt … different.
Her mood buoyant, her mind focused, Marney readied herself and took a public tram to the central district where Denton had arranged to meet her. She enjoyed the journey, made in the bright morning sun, surrounded by fellow denizens: couples chatting and laughing, mothers trying to control their children, people just staring out the window in silent contemplation. This was life, Marney realised: people making the most of what they had. The Relic Guild always ensured there was nothing else for the denizens to worry about. For the most part. Until the war started.
Marney had always known there was so much more outside the Labyrinth, and she understood now the huge difference between believing Mother Earth was out there and experiencing the evidence first-hand. But still, she struggled to make sense of what Lady Amilee had shown her. What had she actually seen? The greater picture? Everything and nothing? Some strange and fantastic lightshow created within a Thaumaturgist’s observatory?
And how did she feel about it? Certainly not overwhelmed anymore, but not euphoric either. Even had she wished to share her experiences with her fellow agents, Marney wouldn’t have known where to begin. But she did know she felt more substantial, while the people around her seemed smaller – more in need of protecting than ever. Marney was no longer frightened: she welcomed the denizens of Labrys Town as a responsibility for whose safety she would sacrifice herself.
She was an agent of the Relic Guild. And she had faith in her duties.
Something tapped against Marney’s foot. She reached down and picked up the ball that had knocked against her. A young girl, around ten years of age, came down from the front of the carriage to retrieve it. Marney smiled as she held the ball out to her.
‘Be careful. You don’t want to lose it.’
‘Thanks.’ The girl spoke with a lisp. Taking the ball she stared at Marney. ‘You’re very pretty,’ she ventured.
Marney chuckled softly. ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she replied, and mussed the girl’s hair.
Delighted with this response, the youngster smiled, revealing a missing milk tooth. The smile quickly disappeared, however, when her mother arrived and took her by the hand.
Middle aged and care-worn, the woman began apologising for her daughter.
‘It’s not a problem,’ Marney assured her, but the mother was already dragging the girl back to their seats.
Marney heard her say, ‘What
have I told you about talking to strangers?’ as she settled her daughter into her seat.
‘But she found my ball, mum,’ the girl protested.
‘I don’t care. It’s dangerous, especially now. So sit quietly and keep still.’
Marney frowned as the mother sat next to her daughter, but flashed a quick grin as the girl glanced back and gave her a furtive wave.
Yes, Marney thought as she gazed out of the window, I have faith. And the sense of validation that gave her was pleasant company for the remainder of the journey.
On the western edge of the central district, Marney found Denton in a quaint little eatery called Fibbers Tea Room. For many years now it had been the old empath’s favourite place to eat, and when Marney arrived he was already tucking into a generous breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausages and fried potatoes, while reading a newspaper. He lowered the paper as his protégé approached, rose to his feet, removed the napkin tucked into his shirt, and gave a wide smile.
‘Marney,’ he said. She felt the wave of affection he sent her, and returned it. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Good,’ she said honestly. ‘Ready to confront Ambassador Ebril.’
Denton placed a finger to his lips, nodded to the few other diners in the eatery, and his voice entered her head.
I’m glad you’re filled with a sense of duty, Marney, but let’s save the shop-talk until after breakfast, shall we? ‘Come – sit down,’ he said aloud. ‘Order whatever you like. My treat.’
Marney didn’t feel particularly hungry, but she knew this could be a long day, and it was best to keep up her strength. So when the waitress came over to the table, she ordered some bread and preserves, along with a pot of coffee.
‘Food just isn’t the same anymore,’ Denton bemoaned as he cut into a fat sausage. ‘Before all these damned embargos, food was fresher, tastier. Now it’s all dried or powered or preserved, and the flavour of everything seems bland – not that I suppose you’ve noticed. You eat less than a mouse.’
Marney shrugged and bit into a slice of bread smeared with fruit jam.
