'Unless they kill us first,' Fulcrom suggested.
'Yes. Unless they kill us.'
'But still, if we don't know how Urtica plans to achieve this massacre, it'll remain difficult to foil his plans. How would one eliminate so many people without others soon knowing about it?'
Jeryd was silent as he reflected on this, and could not think of a plausible answer.
It had been a long time since Jeryd had been required to participate in an armed mission, and never on a scale such as this. The last time he had fired a crossbow was before Johynn was born, against a corrupt network of the city guard who were abusing their position to kidnap young girls in Caveside and sell them as sex slaves to private landowners on the outer islands.
This was not a bunch of renegades, but the chancellor they were up against. Obviously Urtica was power-mad and hungry for control, prepared to go to any lengths to achieve his insane objectives. Clearly, in his eyes, removing the nuisance of the refugees was a good thing, reducing the strains on the city's resources that would, ultimately, lead to great political unrest. For Urtica to retain his seat comfortably, the refugees had to go.
Both rumels stared out at the familiar evening scene. Theirs would be no easy task, but it was the right thing to do. Jeryd felt a great sadness at the corruption overtaking his beloved city. All that mattered now was that he would do all he could.
FORTY-ONE
Another one of those melancholy nights of Villjamur, in which a pterodette called out across the city's spires so loudly it sounded like a banshee. Up here on the top floor of the Imperial residence, starlight clearly defined the rooftops, meaning the evening would be cold and cloudless. Incense burned somewhere, mere hints of it on the breeze, prompting thoughts of some wild ritual being performed in a forgotten corner of the city.
Tryst loved this city and he could easily see how it invoked such passions in people – in Chancellor Urtica, in himself. Raising a corner of the tapestry preserving the still warmth of the chamber, he stared idly out of a window, waiting for Urtica to arrive. There were occasions, in the chancellor's presence, when Tryst felt so much reverence for him that he wanted to be part of his consciousness and see the world through his master's eyes.
The door opened and Urtica marched into the ornate room, with its glittering trinkets arranged around the immense fireplace.
'Sele of Jamur, chancellor,' Tryst greeted him.
'What happened to your face?' Urtica paused as he moved closer. 'A fight, I suspect? I hope you're not attracting too much unwarranted attention.'
'No, not at all. It was just… well, Investigator Jeryd had some sharp words to say to me.'
'What about?'
Tryst met his gaze boldly as they eyed each other across the glow of the flames. Tryst had used Tuya to all advantage, now simply wanted her out of the way. He probably would have killed her if she hadn't escaped him and run to Jeryd. Now the damned rumel knew everything. No matter, Tryst would soon have her hunted down, with a reward on her head. 'I strongly believe that a prostitute is responsible for the councillor murders.'
'A prostitute?' Urtica wore a look of utter amazement on his face.
'Yes, from what I gather, Ghuda spilled certain secrets across a pillow. Disclosures that linked him with you, sir. She learned about your plans for the removal of refugees. She knows who was involved and decided to take matters into her own hands.'
Urtica interrupted, 'We can't have her blabbing such rumours in case she brings attention to me. She must be removed promptly.' The chancellor paused. 'Does Jeryd also know of this?'
'I'm afraid so,' Tryst said, feeling guilt now for having put his own interests above those of the chancellor. 'You see, I had her under confinement, but he took her off my hands. I merely wanted to protect your honour, sir.'
Tryst watched his idol with hope, heart thumping in his chest.
'Very good, young Tryst, you did well.'
'Sir, I'd do anything for you,' Tryst said eagerly. 'Anything.'
'Still, I need to be able to trust you totally. I've seen that you're a sharp man, but can you be loyal?'
'Of course,' he breathed.
The chancellor paced back and forth before the flames. 'Good. Then I want you to kill both Investigator Jeryd and this prostitute. They must not have the chance to inform others.' He leaned forward, continued with a whisper. 'Now, I'm about to initiate my plans with the Empress Rika. She'll be arrested tomorrow at the Snow Ball for maximum publicity, with an order for her execution coming the following day. All the Ovinist councillors are ready to support me. Tomorrow night some Ovinist colleagues in the military will begin guiding in some of the refugees in small numbers to meet their fate, all on the quiet of course. They'll make use of some of the precarious tunnels under the city – and it doesn't matter if they collapse on them, does it? They'll think they're being taken to temporary housing within the city, and we can finally start poisoning them one by one. As they are dying we can move them to tunnels nearer the coast. Then I think we can just dump them out at sea. Tryst, I want you there with me, at the centre of things. Can you do that, lad?'
'Indeed, chancellor. Anything for you, and for the Ovinists.' Tryst swallowed, bowed his head slightly. 'One thing, though: what about the banshees?'
'What about them?'
'This many deaths – on a large scale. Surely their screams may attract rather too much attention?'
'Leave that to me,' Urtica said grimly, and paced around momentarily. 'Now, in getting rid of the rumel, I'd suggest some explosives. Make it look like something other than an assassination. I know a cultist open to persuasion, so you can get armed with the necessary equipment to take out his entire house – in case he may have documented his findings. Set a timer to make certain you're clear, but I can guarantee you a good alibi.'
A strange emotion overwhelmed Tryst, and suddenly his stomach felt sick. He really didn't want to kill Jeryd. Certainly he had resented the old rumel, but he only wanted him to suffer. Killing him was going too far. But he had to prove himself to Urtica, the man who would soon be Emperor.
*
Tryst had been travelling so far under Caveside that he feared he'd never see daylight again. Urtica had given him the address of a cultist who worked alone, and, somewhat dubiously, occasionally helping out people when the coin was right, no questions asked.
The bag of money he carried was slowing him down. Coloured lanterns lit the way sporadically, casting light on rats and dogs and grubby children playing games among discarded poultry bones.
Eventually he came to a narrow, solitary street, whose habitations were carved into the cliff. After peering carefully around him, Tryst approached the one he wanted, then knocked on the door three times in quick succession.
It opened to reveal an old woman wrapped in a dark red robe. 'What d'you want?' she enquired harshly.
'I was sent by the chancellor,' he explained. The lines etching her face creased even further, though her eyes were dazzling in the dreary light.
'Urtica, eh?' she said, with obvious interest.
Tryst revealed the bags of money. 'I need some devices making tonight.'
She eyed it carefully, then himself. 'By all means, come in.'
The room beyond the rough wooden door was lit by dozens of thick candles. Tryst had to walk awkwardly around piles of books that littered the floor to reach a central table. There were items in bottles on shelves which he couldn't discern, maybe organs of some hybrid beast, and he swore that one of them was moving.
She indicated a chair and he sat down, placing the bag of money on the table. She turned to face a mirror. She removed her hood, combing her hair with her fingers, pulling long, grey strands to either side of her face. There was something distinctly childlike about her manner.
Eventually, she came over to the table, sat opposite him.
Her eyes were blue-tinted, and she regarded him with a soft intensity, as if thinking him someone from her past. 'What d'you need?' she asked.
'Brenna devices for destroying an entire house. And the person within it.'
