The Pilgrims

‘Sure. Whatever you like,’ said Case.

‘I cannot see you, Arch Mage.’

‘Of course not, I got powers.’

‘Mighty powers, Arch Mage. Is this a test, Arch Mage?’

‘Where’s this Vous?’

‘Our Friend and Lord is in his chambers. His meal has been served. None have since disturbed him, Arch Mage.’

‘Where’s that, you spud-faced bastard?’

The young man placidly raised an arm behind him. There stood the door the winged woman had described, with swords mounted above the door frame. It was open. Case marched to it, then held himself in check. OK, this is what she wanted. Get in, get the job done, then we’ll ask her for a drink and she can tell me what happened with Eric. Spent too long on this sordid business to blow it now. Get it right, Stuart Casey, for once in your life.

Through the door was a huge room with heavy bookshelves on one side and a thick carpet down the middle, rich with woven patterns of threaded gold. Pronged stands held gleaming candles, lending the room a soft golden light. A window at the far wall had its curtain drawn.

There was no one in the chamber, no guards or servants. The man seated on a throne by the far wall, not moving, Case had taken at first for a statue: one knee raised, an elbow resting upon it. He wore some kind of ceremonial gown of loose, shining silk.

Case took a deep breath and went inside.

Vous’s head was tilted forwards at an angle, and his eyes — glassy, pure blue, encased in slanted lids — didn’t blink once. He was slim, maybe Eric’s age, but somehow not young seeming. Short golden hair was cropped neatly over a head that seemed to slightly bulge. He was handsome in a sense, with features well defined, but also delicate-looking, as though one hard blow would smash his face like glass.

Case went closer, very careful to keep his steps silent. Jewellery hung over Vous’s neck, thick lengths of chain not unlike the charm Case wore, though much newer and fancier. Rings gleamed on his fingers. A small table was set some way before the throne; it held a plate of food and a goblet of wine. Case’s eye lingered on the wine and he felt a powerful urge to go ahead and swallow it down, whatever might happen to him.

Vous stirred at last: his head tilted Case’s way, listening for something. ‘She did not wail long, this morning,’ he said quietly. Case’s blood froze. ‘She did not wail for me. Perhaps, at last, she’s learning.’ Vous fell quiet. The hand resting on the throne’s arm was very tense, knuckles white, and its fingernails picked at the gold. Vous looked down at his hand, pale and stiff, scratching, and he blinked, seeming surprised by what it was doing.

Case couldn’t be certain Vous was talking to him. Looking around the room, he saw a tall, thin mirror mounted on the wall and approached it, just to double-check his reflection was still invisible. When he stood before the glass, he nearly cried out — there was no reflection, just a smoky swirl of light, and ghostly faces within it. Five of them. One was a woman’s, her hair flowing as though she lay in water. Another had sharp teeth and beast’s eyes, and seemed barely human. They were asleep but for one, its face almost featureless as a skull, with wide, dark eye sockets. That one’s mouth opened and it gasped in alarm. ‘Friend!’ it called. ‘Vous! Friend! Beware. I hear something. I hear steps-’

‘Shut up!’ the scream from the throne lashed out like a whip. Case jumped at the sound of it. Vous’s teeth were bared like an animal’s. The skull in the mirror whimpered and went quiet. All the others opened their eyes. They whispered quietly amongst themselves, then separated fast as fish darting away in different directions when water’s disturbed.

The smoky light faded when they’d gone, revealing Case’s reflection, almost invisible. He sighed, relieved, and tried to calm his heart before all these frights made it quit altogether. Boy, did he want a sip of that wine now.

He went back to the throne. Vous’s head was still turned towards the mirror, but his face had gone back to its previous expression, eyes still unblinking. ‘You’re here now, aren’t you?’ he whispered. ‘You’re here right now. Watching me again. Watching me.’

Case swallowed, and he tried to breathe without any sound at all. His mouth was very dry and the wine was calling to him, positively singing. He could almost taste it, sweet and strong.

‘Watching me,’ said Vous. ‘But, ah! You never speak. You … never … speak.’

And then he was up, prowling around his throne as though to catch someone hiding behind it. He looked suspiciously at the far doorway, through which Case had come, then turned to the curtained window and approached it like he was stalking prey.

Case knew he would not get a better chance. He grabbed the wine goblet, and he’d have sworn on his life afterwards that he only intended a quick little sip, just to wet his parched tongue. But when he tasted it — so very sweet, fizzing across his tongue, unlike any wine he’d sipped before — he was startled to find the goblet seemed to have drained itself down his throat. Panicked, he set it back, and very nearly ran away. But oh, his head spun so pleasantly, almost coaxing away the fear of what he’d just done.

Vous stepped away from the window. He’d been catlike and tense a moment ago, but now his head slumped forwards and a tear crept down his cheek. ‘Watch,’ he whispered. ‘Watch, if you must.’ He slumped back on the throne, chin on his chest, glassy blue eyes staring at nothing.

It took a minute for him to see the empty wine goblet. When he did, he stared at it hard for a long while, not moving, not saying a thing. Slowly, he nodded. ‘Yes! You are here.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘I knew you were here. But I grow so tired … so tired.’ Vous shut his eyes as more tears rolled down his face. ‘Why, Shadow? What more can I give you? You have seen all my forms, splayed and bare. To the pits of pain with your hideous judging eyes! Shadow! What more can I give …?’ He choked up, a knuckle in his mouth, then stood, grabbed the plate and with an echoing scream of rage threw it hard at the far wall, where it shattered. He took the wine goblet and did the same. Then he stalked towards the door, his gown rippling. Case followed. Only now, as Vous passed the candles and the light of the open doorway, did Case notice something peculiar: Vous’s body cast no shadow on the thick red carpet.

Back out in the hall the drab grey-robes shuffled on their way, though a few heads turned to watch Vous pass. He stopped in their midst, seeming undecided. ‘You,’ he said, pointing to an older man. The man came forwards, head inclined. ‘Take that girl’s clothes off. Rip them off.’

The older man inclined his head further, and did as he was asked, clumsily pulling at a young woman’s grey robe. It took a while before her slender pale body was exposed. She watched Vous, waiting without expression.

‘Fuck her,’ said Vous. ‘Now.’

The older man shoved the woman over and began removing his own clothes. The other grey-robes didn’t react, just waited patiently in case they too were called upon.

‘Hurt her,’ said Vous distractedly, his lip curled in a look of distaste.

The man clumsily struggled to do as he was asked, with little slaps or half-hearted tugs at the woman’s hair.

‘Harder. Make her cry out, whimper.’

Soon Vous turned away, seemingly bored by it all. He stalked up the hall the way he’d been going before. Behind him, both servants stood and began fixing their clothes, without a word to each other, without any apparent effect at all. A passing grey-robe paused to help them, businesslike and impersonal, like they were bits of equipment to be put back in place.

Vous stopped again, some way further up the passage. He ordered two male servants to do the same thing, and watched this performance a while longer, before walking off in boredom after instructing them to continue for the rest of the day.

‘Shadow!’ cried Vous, suddenly pausing, arms raised high. He peered around with flinty eyes. ‘I still … feel you. More tokens, for you to collect. Are you pleased? There shall be others. For I still … feel you.’ Behind him, the two naked men clambered over one another. Passing servants calmly stepped around them.

The longer Case trailed the obviously insane ruler, the more he could have sworn ‘Shadow’ was he himself, that his footsteps had given him away. But he kept following, and Vous ranted about ‘Shadow’ every few minutes, in between ordering more staff to do more humiliating things: sex acts, often as not, or beatings. He seemed especially intent on seeing the older men do sexual things and asking the women to fight. He ordered one female