After a pause Brynd muttered, 'It's a set-up. Someone in Villjamur wanted this to happen.'
'But why?'
'So we're not properly prepared for the Freeze, I guess. Otherwise, no idea, really.'
'Leaves us well screwed,' Apium continued. 'Do you think we should've brought a cultist along with us?'
'It's all well and good saying that now, but everyone wanted to keep this low-key. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Cultists would've only drawn more attention. And they would've known too, which defeats the objective. Although why all this secrecy just for a bit of fuel? I realize Johynn wants us relying on them less. You know, he even told me before we came away that he suspected the cultists would bugger off to do their own thing during the ice age. It's not exactly classified information that he wants to be able to manage things without them, get used to them not being around. He might be a little weird at times, but there's some wisdom there, I'll say that much.'
'Hmm.' Apium wore an expression of uncertainty. 'Still, would've helped though.'
'I'm going to be asking some awkward questions when we get back home.'
'So you think we're going to be in trouble?' Apium suggested.
'It's not by any means an emergency. There's enough wood in the forests across the Empire to keep the home fires burning, for sure. This was more Johynn's doing. He was convinced the firegrain was needed – and you know what his mind's been like of late.'
Apium stifled a laugh, then he pointed through the trees.
Two moons could be seen between the tall hills rising either side of the fjord, one moon significantly larger than the other, and both an ethereal white, hanging low in the sky. Astrid, the smaller, appeared sometimes to be unnatural, as if it was made of some pale ore, out of place even – something Brynd felt an affinity for.
The men stared for several moments. There was a sense of stillness. Stars gradually defined the hillside.
'Looking nice tonight, aren't they?' Apium said. 'Strange to think they'll do it.'
'What?'
'The ice age. Strange to think just the moons are causing it.'
'When you think about it logically-'
'You see, that's your problem. I just said it's weird that it comes to that. You never just think plainly about stuff.'
'It's not a plain world, captain.'
'You need to get laid more often,' Apium grumbled, lying back flat on the ground, his arms behind his head.
Brynd stood up suddenly. He could perceive movement nearby.
'What's wrong with you?' Apium said. 'Touched a nerve, have I?'
Brynd gestured for him to silence.
The red-haired man pushed himself upright to follow Brynd's gaze. 'Can't see anything.'
Brynd stepped to the right, his eyes wide, alert. Within seconds he knew Apium had lost him, could see the man's gormless face lit up by the moon, even at a distance. How Apium had managed to stay alive in the Night Guard was beyond Brynd. Perhaps he worshipped some outlawed god who knew something no one else did. The injections this elite group received on their induction should have worn off over the years due to Apium's excessive drinking.
Brynd took several slow steps over to where he had seen the foliage move. He reached carefully for his sabre. Behind a sapling, he saw him. A man, naked, covered in mud. Brynd frowned, then reached for a stone from the ground. He threw it, the stone connected, but the man didn't move, didn't even flinch. Brynd repeated the action. Still no movement. He whistled back to Apium.
After a few seconds, his companion shambled through the forest to his side. 'What's up?'
'There's a man over there.' Brynd indicated the figure. 'He's naked.'
'Naked?'
'I said naked.'
'You're right,' Apium said. 'What's he doing way out here with nothing on? Bit of outdoors action, eh?'
'How the hell should I know?' Brynd said. Little harm could come from investigating this, surely? There was no sign of anyone else around, and he was sure they were alone. 'Let's get closer.' Brynd led the way towards the naked man, who had remained still for some time. If he was aware of their approach, he didn't show it.
'The Sele of Jamur to you, sir,' Brynd said, thinking the traditional Jamur greeting would prompt some response. Nothing. He looked the man up and down. 'You, er… you must be cold.'
Apium snorted a laugh.
The man still didn't move, just stared vacantly ahead. They stepped cautiously to within an armspan of him, noticing his face lacked blood as if totally drained of it. His eyes were slightly slanted, and they gazed directly past Brynd. There were strange wounds around his neck, then Brynd noticed that his head was shaven unevenly, so that tufts of black hair blossomed on it in patches.
'Looks dead, doesn't he?' Apium remarked.
Brynd reached out, prodded the man in the chest. Still no reaction. The commander took a bold step forward and reached out to feel his wrist. 'Well, I'll swear by Bohr, he is.'
'What?' Apium gasped. 'Dead?'
'Yes. There's no sign of pulse.' He let go of his wrist, and the man's arm slumped back to his side.
'This is cultist work, Brynd,' Apium warned, reaching for Brynd's shoulder with fear in his eyes. 'Nothing natural here. I don't like it. I've no idea what they've done to him, but we should send this fellow on his way and stay with Fyir. In fact, I think we ought to move off a little.'
Although stunned, Brynd didn't know what to make of it. A hardened soldier, he was used to seeing the worst of life, but this individual out here spoke of technologies he was unaware of. What options did he have? If they killed this man, there might be more in waiting. Should he provoke it? In their depleted state, Brynd considered it best to leave things be and report it back in Villjamur. 'I think you're right. This can wait. I'll maybe put it in a report.'
They carried Fyir gently to the ruins of an Azimuth temple.
Little was known about that civilization, and hardly anything was left there aside from hidden and subtle masonry. One of the towers had fallen so that it rested flat against a hillside, just beyond Daluk Point, the lower side now wedged firmly into the slope. Lichen and mosses suffocated much of it, but there were still discernible patterns, squares within squares, that were known to be traditional religious symbols. It was thought that the Azimuth had worshipped numerology and mathematical precision, a sentiment he liked: looking for beauty in the most abstract of places. Brynd pondered this reverence as Apium fell asleep alongside Fyir.
The commander sat at the foot of the tower, his knees pulled up, back resting against the stone. His sabre remained unsheathed at his side. Stars now defined the hills surrounding the fjord, and he concentrated on sounds, the way you always did on these shifts, hoping and yet not hoping to hear footsteps, maybe snapping branches, someone coming their way. But there was little activity apart from that of nocturnal birds and mammals, every one of their eerie calls reminding him how they were quite alone.
In fact, he began to feel he was barely there himself.
THREE
The hardest cynic, Investigator Rumex Jeryd thought, is often fundamentally the most romantic person, because he so often feels let down by the world. He couldn't detect much romance in himself today, but all the cynicism he could wish for.
He could hear the rain driving against the old stone walls. He liked the sound: it reminded him of the outside world. Lately, he'd spent far too many days in this gloom, had begun to feel a little too disconnected from Villjamur. Everything the city stood for these days was something he found a struggle to perceive.
The rumel looked down at the returned theatre tickets in his right hand, then his gaze switched to the note in his left hand.
It read: Thanks, but it's just all a bit too late, don't you think? Marysa x
Jeryd sighed, his tail twitched. It was from his ex-wife. They were a rumel couple, and had been together for over a hundred years. There were benefits in not being human. Not only was rumel skin tougher, but because of
