through an artificial reality! You were quite right, Lan — it was a dream, more or less, but one created by Frater Mercury — who must have used his technology to store the book in a safe place.’
‘Why?’
‘So only those who deciphered his code could understand where he had hidden it? So it left a connection to him, but one almost impossible to find.’
‘What happened to the ghost, Adena, if it wasn’t real?’
‘I’m here,’ a voice said.
The priest moved around the room trying to locate where the voice came from. ‘Adena?’ he said. ‘Speak again.’
‘I’m in the mirrors this side now. Look closer.’
Faintly, in a cluster of the small mirrors, a shape took form, broken up by the stonework behind, and it began to resemble the girl who had guided them here.
‘So many mysteries,’ the priest muttered. ‘So little time.’
‘I’m fine now,’ the ghost said. ‘There’s more, so much more on this side…’ And with that, the form faded, leaving the room in utter calm.
‘So now what?’ Lan asked.
‘I need to return to the surface, reflect upon the texts and compare them, then I must conduct the rituals.’ Ulryk paused for a moment, as if the weight of expectation dawned on him. ‘Then I suppose I must see about bringing Frater Mercury into our world. I am ashamed to admit that I have not thought much about the realities of this: merely finding the other book. For years I thought it did not exist. And now…’
‘Let’s get back,’ Lan said. ‘There’s plenty of time for speculation later.’
PEOPLE’S OBSERVER
The Secret History of the Villjamur Knights
The famed heroes of the city of Villjamur are frauds. They are not what you think they are. They are weapons of the elite, trying to suppress the poor. Would you let these people protect your city?
Here be secrets:
The one called Lan — the female of the group — used to be a man! Cultists have turned her body from a man to a woman by using the evils of relic technology. Would you let your children roam the streets with such a monster claiming to be their protector? This is not right!
The one called Tane — he is famous for having huge amounts of wealth. Tane is the son of Lord Chattel, who owned the most vicious slave business in the Archipelago. Slavery, though frowned upon in this city, still goes on in the corners of the Empire, and Tane is an inheritor of a vast fortune. More! He has earned much of his wealth in his own lifetime. He is a man who trades in death and yet parades about the streets as if he has the moral upper hand. This is not right!
The one called Vuldon is no stranger to these streets: he is the Legend, the so-called hero from our city’s past. Those with long memories will remember the Legend as being responsible for a tragedy whereby many children were killed. He escaped into hiding, but deems himself now suitable to return to this city. A child-killer is loose and unpunished. This is not right! Would you let this brute see to the safety of your child?
Documents signed by cultists associated closely with the sinister Knights will be produced as proof in the next issue. People of the city, you have been fooled. These people are monsters. Do not let them get away with this. Reject them. We call for them to be harassed from the streets for the safety of ourselves and our children. Do not let these perverts and abusers roam free.
THIRTY-ONE
Fulcrom found the article in the afternoon, as it fluttered about the streets, and he picked it up only because he’d seen more than a few citizens eagerly reading their own copies.
Time stood still; even the snow seemed to linger hesitantly. He could feel his pulse quicken as the words filtered through his mind. Things connected there. He realized that the anarchists would have used the printing press stolen from the Inquisition to make this and that somewhere along the way, someone had betrayed them. But these were his final thoughts — his first concerns were for Lan.
Immediately he stormed back to the clifftop hideaway to find the other Knights, but they were out, and Lan was, of course, still with Ulryk. Fulcrom fumed and stomped about the complex, shouting at whoever was around. He ordered every available cultist and staff member into a brick-ceilinged antechamber, whereupon he held up the faked copy of People’s Observer, and read it aloud.
That was when Feror broke down in tears; all eyes turned towards him.
Fulcrom moved over to the cultist, and dragged him by his collar into the Knights’ quarters. He slammed him up against the cold stone wall. ‘Talk,’ he snarled into his face.
Feror slid down the wall, drew his knees to his chest and began to sob.
‘You have one minute to tell me why I shouldn’t kill you!’ Fulcrom shouted.
Feror was merely the sum of his emotions then, nothing more, nothing less. ‘They… they made me.’
‘You know,’ Fulcrom said, ‘we hear that excuse all the time. They made me. Who the fuck made you, and what did they make you do?’
‘They took my family — my daughters, they’ve got them hostage. Still have. What was I to do? It was my family, investigator… Y-you understand, don’t you?’
‘You should have come to us first. We could have helped. We’re the fucking Inquisition, if you hadn’t noticed.’
‘They said they would kill them in an instant,’ Feror blubbered, ‘if I so much as breathed a word about it to the Inquisition. They just wanted background information. I didn’t see it as a big issue, just a little information.’
‘Have you seen People’s Observer? This forged rag that has now spread about the city like a plague?’
Feror nodded, and he closed his eyes with more tears streaming down his face.
‘There’s your big fucking issue. The effectiveness of the Knights depends upon the population’s favour now. I’ve no idea how they’ll react, but I’m guessing it won’t be kind — especially to Lan. They’ll probably want to lynch her.’
‘I know,’ Feror sobbed. ‘I know.’
Fulcrom stared at him for a while longer, and kicked at Feror’s legs to release some aggression. ‘What do you know of the anarchists’ organization? I want addresses. I want names. Otherwise I’ll hand you over to the Emperor’s special forces and let them deal with you.’
The distraught cultist revealed only a handful of facts. He didn’t know any leaders, had never even seen Shalev. The anarchists — such as they were — operated in splinter cells, virtually independent of each other, united only in their hatred of the rest of the city.
Feror had seen his family one member at a time in the top floor of a backstreet tavern, and only for a few minutes at the most, enough to ensure his loyalty to them. He’d pleaded for their return but they refused until they’d bled him dry of information.
‘Are they still with the anarchists?’ Fulcrom demanded.
Feror nodded.
Fulcrom’s rage ebbed, and mental clarity returned to him. Could he have acted any differently than the old cultist who was protecting his family? What if they’d taken Lan? Fulcrom hauled him to his feet and stood toe-to-toe with the man.
‘We’ll get them back for you.’
‘How?’ Feror’s eyes brimmed with hope.
‘We’ll use the Knights while we still can.’ Wherever the hell they are. ‘Presumably you had a contact, someone to go to when you found something useful?’
‘A landlord at the tavern. I’d go to him and he’d send word. We’d meet in his upper room.’
