The Thousand Emperors

her eyes fixed on Luc as she scripted. <I don’t recall asking you here.>

There was something calculating in her gaze, and Luc felt a flash of guilt that made him look away, as if he had done something wrong.

<I don’t need your permission,> Ruy scripted back at her, growing ever more red-faced. <Joe asked me to be here.>

Joe. Luc blinked, realizing with a start Ruy must be referring to Joseph Cheng. It felt strange to hear a man of such enormous power referred to in so avuncular a fashion.

‘Mr Gabion is here because Zelia made an excellent case why he should be present, Mr Borges,’ said Cheng, opting to speak out loud. ‘I hope you’re not questioning my judgement in this matter?’

Ruy Borges’s face went from red to white in a matter of moments. He turned towards Cheng, first glancing quickly at Luc with the expression of a man who had just trod on something unpleasant.

‘My apologies,’ Borges said to Cheng. <I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn,> he added.

<I’ll also ask you to avoid script-speak from now on,> Cheng replied. <Gabion must be allowed to see and hear everything we do or say.>

Borges nodded, suddenly submissive where he had been demanding. <Then may I at least ask why he’s here?>

De Almeida turned to Luc. ‘Mr Borges is curious to know why I had you brought here,’ she told him. ‘I’m sorry for bringing you here with such little warning, but I’m sure you understand why it was necessary.’

‘The victim – was it a member of the Council?’

‘It was, yes. A man called Sevgeny Vasili. Are you familiar with the name?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I assume you also understand what would happen to you if anyone outside of this room were ever to discover the purpose or details of our meeting here?’

Luc nodded uneasily and swallowed. ‘I can make an educated guess.’

‘No one is allowed on to Vanaheim except for members of the Council and their guests, all of whom are strictly vetted and closely watched at all times. You can understand this presents us with some difficulties when it comes to figuring out who might be responsible for Sevgeny’s murder.’

‘You mentioned “guests” – are there any on Vanaheim at the moment?’

‘Apart from yourself?’ asked de Almeida. ‘A few, all of whom are being detained until we can be absolutely certain they were not involved in any way. No one apart from yourself is being allowed to pass through the Hall of Gates. Even so, the circumstances of Sevgeny’s death mean that we’ve been forced to some uncomfortable conclusions.’

Luc met her eyes, and had a fleeting mental image of something dark and winged, with outstretched talons, swooping down from out of the sky. ‘You think Vasili was killed by another Councillor?’

‘No.’ Victor Begum stepped forward. ‘It’s ridiculous to suggest any one of us could have done such a thing to one of our own. It has to be someone from outside the Council.’

<Please, Victor,> de Almeida scripted, her tone weary. <We can’t make exceptions for ourselves if we’re going to work out what happened here.>

Somewhere beyond the high narrow windows, Luc could hear waves crashing on the island’s shore. His lungs felt like they had turned to granite in his chest, fear sharpening his senses. He was unpleasantly aware that any one of the men and women before him could order his death, without reprisal or consequences, and at a moment’s notice, if he failed to satisfy them.

‘Excuse me,’ he said.

They all looked over at him.

‘If I were to hazard a guess,’ he said, feeling cool sweat trickle past one eyebrow despite the chill air, ‘I’d say your biggest worry is whether you can trust each other since, technically, any one of you could be responsible for Vasili’s murder.’

There; he’d said it. He waited, breath catching in his throat, fully expecting to die at any moment for words that sounded wildly heretical even as they emerged from his mouth.

‘He’s right,’ said de Almeida, turning to the rest. ‘This is why Father Cheng agreed to my proposal – we need the perspective of someone from outside of the Council, someone who couldn’t possibly have an axe to grind with the victim.’

‘Yes, all very good,’ said Ruy Borges irritably, ‘but why him?’

Good question, thought Luc, turning his gaze back to de Almeida.

‘Luc Gabion has entirely proven his loyalty, and his skill, by almost single-handedly apprehending the criminal Winchell Antonov,’ she replied.

‘Oh,’ said Borges, regarding Luc with new eyes and nodding slowly. ‘Him.’

Cheng clapped his hands together, almost as if he were hosting a dinner party. ‘I think it’s about time we took a look at the deceased, don’t you?’

Luc’s feeling of being out of his depth intensified as de Almeida beckoned him through a side-door. The smell of putrefaction, mixed with the scent of smoke, hit Luc as soon as he passed through it. Sevgeny Vasili’s death had clearly not been a recent one.