but in the Inquisition such things were usually a matter of tradition, for better or worse.
'If you were expecting a man, I understand your surprise – but I've been good at my job so far. They tell me you're from Villjamur, that you're a brilliant investigator, and that you do not accept bribes… and I wanted to learn from the best.'
There was no reason why such flattery should be anything other than that to be expected from the young or naive. If only she knew how out of touch he felt, and how he simply could not understand the mechanisms of the world any more. Hell, he could barely understand himself any longer. 'Come in, please, take a seat.'
'Thank you.' Walking past him, she graced him with a whiff of gentle perfume, a little vanilla musk. Her steps were lively, although slightly halting, as if she was recovering from a limp.
He first asked her for her name.
'Nanzi.'
'That's a beautiful and unusual name. As you know I'm Investigator Rumex Jeryd – just arrived in the city. Worked in the Villjamur Inquisition for a hundred and eighty years, and have seen a lot in that time.' It was growing on him fast, the idea that someone wanted to learn from him. It brought a new consistency to daily proceedings and he soon forgot his reservations about her being a her.
'The good investigator,' he continued, 'does not merely stand still. He never accepts what he learns to be absolute and final. Same with anything else in life. Those who are more prepared for change generally get on, while those who don't… they're forgotten quickly, left to rot.'
She nodded, took out a small notepad, began detailing what he said. This went on for a quarter of an hour, these introductory notes, a little wisdom to kick things off, things that might or might not be of direct help but needed to be stated anyway, if only for him to articulate them for himself.
Jeryd was beginning to like Nanzi more and more. He told her about his first possible case in his new city, about the albino who'd come to his door in the middle of the night whispering his name. She offered no opinion.
Jeryd said, 'I'll need, most of all, someone to show me around the city. You know this place well?'
'I've been here a few years now,' she admitted, 'but in that time I've come to know nearly every passageway, every stall, every cobble, every cobweb.'
'Wouldn't you rather get out of here with the coming fighting?' Jeryd felt a sudden curiosity about why people were in Villiren at all.
'Where else would we all go?' she asked. 'No one is going to take their chances out in the wilderness, in this weather. None of the other major cities are likely to let anyone in, so all people here have is this place. It might not be pretty here, but there is a great sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, even. And with that comes pride. It's long been a city of immigrants – from all over these eastern islands. I, myself, am not from here, and I have no family left, so this city is a haven for people like me, who needed to rebuild themselves.'
Jeryd contemplated her words. Maybe he had been quick to judge the city, too quick to think it lacked soul. As he had said himself moments earlier, those who were more prepared for change generally got on better.
*
As they made their way onto the streets heading towards the citadel and the barracks, Jeryd asked Nanzi more about her background, discovering how she had previously travelled around the Archipelago, even found a partner and settled down. Nanzi continued to walk with that distinctive limp, and it made Jeryd speculate on how she might have acquired such an impediment. 'Were you injured in the line of duty?'
A pause, a distant gaze. 'An accident, years ago. It still pains me, if I'm honest, but I'm much better off now than before. Working here is good – not too physically demanding, and I get out and about. That takes my mind off my own problems, which are nothing in comparison with some of the things we see here in Villiren.'
'A noble sentiment. How long have you worked for the Inquisition?'
'Not very long. But, given my accident, I realized how life is short – and I wanted to do some good by serving the city. I want to help wherever I can, to do the right thing for humanity. The Inquisition here is not as efficient or as good-intentioned as I would like – so I try very hard to make a small difference.'
'The good investigator,' Jeryd declared, 'is always motivated by positive goals. In the end, when people start to argue over intricacies of the law, all you have is your integrity to fall back on.'
'Things are rather relaxed in the Inquisition here,' she observed, 'too much so. Perhaps crimes go unsolved, some not even investigated. The Freeze has changed our priorities to more administrative matters. Many cases still need sorting out. The rumel who work here as investigators are just not interested any more. With the war coming, many such cases simply have had to be overlooked. Burglaries are never talked about, rapes never followed up – women, I find, are particularly hard done by in the culture here – but in some tribal communities you hear of worse. I do what I can in difficult circumstances. And then there are all those missing people…'
'People vanish all the time,' he remarked. 'The good investigator knows that. He has to start off at the source of information, because if people want to disappear hard enough, they will manage to do so. It's easy enough never to be seen again. Your source will quickly give you a hint as to whether you are wasting your time. A good investigator cannot afford to waste his time.'
'Or hers.'
'Whose?' Jeryd said, momentarily puzzled.
'Cannot waste his or her time.'
'Right,' he conceded.
'Anyway,' she continued. 'That is why I was excited when I heard that an investigator from Villjamur was heading our way. I hope to learn from your experiences there, but I do not know why you left such a prestigious place just to come here.'
'Sometimes we haven't got the choice, Nanzi, because things get decided for you.' And this dive was the only place I could get to work in, simply because of their casual attitude to the Empire's laws.
*
As they made their way to the barracks, along those rigidly alignetreets of the city, now and then she would stop to introduce Jeryd to a trader, or a tavern owner, which was something he appreciated, being so keen to become a familiar face with the locals. He adopted a friendly tone towards them, and they chatted back readily. One woman who was running a textile shop even offered nervously to pay him a bribe, as if he was involved in a street gang. A protection racket, perhaps? Nanzi had implied such shenanigans went on, but were the Inquisition involved too?
The final approach presented them with a glorious view encompassing numerous shades of white and grey, where the city met the sea met the skies. Accumulating force between the cliffs bordering the harbour, icy winds assaulted the Citadel violently. Jeryd had to keep a tight grip on his new hat. Nanzi led him up the final stairway to the vast Citadel directly at the front of the city, a decrepit and fortress-residence facing the sea. He couldn't believe how massive it was, getting on for twenty storeys high. Many different shades of rock had been used in its construction – from the speckled texture of granite to the smoothness of sandstone. Despite its vast, towering facades, crowded with spiked crenellations, the light mist of drizzle and gentle fog seemed to lend it an ethereal, almost otherworldly quality. Access was gained by several wide, shallow-stepped staircases, and the thin rectangles of lantern-illuminated windows were ranged regularly along each side. This was a place where you felt you wanted to be on the inside, certainly, and Fat Lutto, the portreeve of Villiren, lived here, as did the Night Guard, who had made it their headquarters. Other contingents of soldiers were arriving daily, though housed on levels lower down, but most were still gathered in camps to the south of the city.
*
Now this was impressive: a room surfaced all over with obsidian. Thame reddish volcanic glass also lined some of the main chambers i dazzling display of craftsmanship. Sure, some of the rooms anorridors he'd passed through were pretty deteriorated, with old stonhat was falling apart like in Villjamur, but now and again there'd bome fancy section of wall with gemstones pressed into the surface, in ostentatious display of tastelessness. He liked this, nevertheless: ias so bad it was good.
When they finally met the commander, Jeryd was delighted to recognize the thunderous old Dawnir creature, Jurro, who he'd met before in Villjamur. The beast loomed a few feet taller than Jeryd, his exposed body thick with brown hair, his modesty concealed only by a mere loincloth. Set in a narrow, goat-like head, over a pair of arm- length tusks that peeled back his gums, two large black eyes stared down unblinkingly at his visitor. To call him intimidating was an understatement, but Jeryd wasn't worried by this creature who was carrying a pile of books tall
