embodiment of emptiness.
'Jamur Rika, you're to become Empress,' Brynd said. 'Ruler of the Jamur Empire, its nations, its people. I'm here, therefore, at the request of the Council, to escort you back to Villjamur immediately.'
She stood, gazing out of the window again – at the sea, the clouds. Gulls screamed as they accelerated upwards. More life in the natural environment than her reactions. 'And what choice do I have in the matter?'
'Honestly?' Brynd said.
'Yes.'
'Very little.' He sighed. 'You have a duty.'
'I also have a life here, commander.'
'Yes, that's not gone unnoticed,' Brynd said, with a step towards her. He followed her gaze to a wild cat out on the grass below. It was ripping into a gull, blood covering the victim's white wings that were half-extended, broken. 'Strong cats you have here, for it to bring down a gull.'
'Indeed,' she said. 'Everything here is that little bit more… wild.'
'Nature's creatures learn to cope in any conditions presented to them.'
'It depends, of course, on what exactly those conditions are,' Rika said.
Silence followed yet again, while Brynd stood next to her, hoping that this proximity might symbolize to her that he was at her side in more than just the physical sense. He watched the skies begin to bleed snow. Winds blew in stronger, the wall hangings rattled.
'I'll come with you,' she sighed. 'Just give me a moment to get ready.'
*
Apium hurled a pebble into the sea some distance away from the Black Frieter. It vanished from sight long before it pierced the water, lost in the eruptions caused by surf beating granite.
'Well, at least she's coming willingly,' Nelum said, trying to light his pipe against the strong wind. He was failing miserably. 'And, when she eventually strolls down here, we can embark and get her back home. And then we can put our feet up for a while.'
Brynd glanced over at Apium.
'We can put our feet up for a bit, can't we?' Nelum said, examining their glances worriedly. He placed the unlit pipe back in his pocket.
'Not exactly, no,' Brynd confessed. 'Chancellor Urtica has informed me of some strange occurrences further north, and we've to protect the Empire by investigating. It's serious, according to eye-witness accounts. There have been reports of extensive killings, and it's up to us to establish order, and to give the local populace reassurance.'
'So why not send the Dragoons to investigate?' Lupus asked. 'Why send the elite soldiers?'
'Lad's got a point there, Brynd,' Apium said.
'Elite soldiers are required, and we've skills and training superior to the ordinary standards of the army. We in the Night Guard have access to some cultist-enhanced weaponry. After all, we're cultist-enhanced ourselves, let's not forget. And we possess better swords, bows that fire more accurately. And, anyway, I doubt that the sight of a massive army traipsing across the tundra would inspire any confidence that all is calm. It's easier to move in small groups, so I want one or two units with us, a couple of hundred soldiers at most.'
'Maybe the armies are needed elsewhere,' Nelum stated, his mind working ahead, processing all the possibilities.
'Not without my knowing,' Brynd said. 'You forget I've command of all the Empire's armies.'
'So now we're to be galloping around after three-cocked unicorns,' Apium grumbled.
'We don't know what these creatures are yet,' Brynd said. 'Unicorns or not, we shall go and investigate.'
'Aye, maybe you're right.' Apium chuckled. 'Look, here's our Lady Rika.'
TWELVE
As the sun rose lazily over Villjamur, Investigator Rumex Jeryd left his house in the Kaiho district. He walked past Gulya Gata, down alongside the irens near Gata du Quercus, Hotel Villjamur, and the inn called the Dryad's Saddle. There were a few eccentric shops down this way, high-end purveyors of drugs and erotica, where you could apparently find 'love potions' conducive to controlled rape. Nothing like as described in romantic songs, and why the potions were allowed, he had no idea. That was Villjamur for you – as long as you had enough money you could get whatever you wanted, and to hell with ethics. You could wander these streets and become defined by your fetishes.
In the shadows of high walls, where the road curved down to the right, the kids of Gamall Gata were already waiting for him. From the top of the street you could clearly see the two main culprits, the two that were always there, each maybe ten years old, a blond and a redhead, layered up with warm clothing, thick gloves on, and with snowballs ready in their palms. Jeryd stared hard at the kids – he had to make them wonder for a moment if this was a mistake.
They did not.
The snowballs came arcing through the air, but exploded too short, smashed at his feet, and he smiled. 'Not today, lads.'
He turned, sniffed the chill air, began to walk away-
– A snowball slapped his head.
Bastards.
He could see the blond and the redhead running off, their arms windmilling with excitement, the others nowhere to be seen, then all that was left was the echo of laughter as snow dripped off Jeryd's head.
*
Robes wrapped tight around him, snowballs nowhere to be seen, Jeryd proceeded along one of the lesser- known paths of the city, his breath clouding in front of his face like a ghost that wouldn't leave him alone.
He ran what few details there were of Delamonde Ghuda's murder over and over in his mind. The case was particularly difficult because the number of people who might have a motive to murder the councillor were high. So, a high-profile death, and such a cruel way of dying.
The only likely cause could have been use of a relic, so that made a cultist the most likely suspect. But in general, cultists seemed to have no use for councillors, considered that they operated at a level above government. Above everyone else, in fact. And because of their valuable services in military campaigns, cultists tended to remain on good terms with those high up in Villjamur. So no, a cultist didn't seem likely after all, although he still had to consider them.
He would have to penetrate the Council Atrium to find out what projects Ghuda was working on before he was killed. It must have been something significant, if his murder was the best way to stall it.
And what about the woman, Tuya, who was the last person to see him alive? Nor was he looking forward to confronting Ghuda's wife to explain how he had spent his final night on earth.
On top of all of this, he was due to meet with his own wife, Marysa, this evening. And how was he going to persuade her to come back to him?
What a day.
Tryst had arranged to meet him later. The young human was currently 'interrogating' a man suspected of burglary that had taken place in a street in Caveside. Jeryd let him get on with it on his own, because torture was something Tryst was good at – and it wouldn't necessarily be physical. Tryst had a gift for mental torture, would frequently have the suspect in fits of tears or else exploding with rage. Either way, he got what he wanted, which suited Jeryd fine so long as it was conducted within the legal guidelines. You had to do things by the book or those higher up would use it against you, some day when you happened to fall out of favour.
Jeryd loved this side of the city. He was now standing just beyond the Astronomer's Glass Tower, its bizarre octagonal structure towering above him, its expanses of glass capturing a rare moment of red sunlight that was trying to penetrate the cloud and mist. This side of Villjamur was certainly preferable to the neighbourhood adjoining the caves. Unfortunately, most of his cases inevitably led to Caveside. Living conditions were terrible there, back where poverty was kept hidden out of sight. Inferior sanitation pervaded the area with a constant
