Under A Darkening Sky - Repost

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Nine

Caven drained his glass with a flourish and sat down somewhat heavily, the cheap crystal goblet placed on the table with exaggerated delicacy. There was an unhealthy sheen to his face and I could tell that for all his sarcastic bravado he had obviously been drinking to offset some underlying fear, probably for some time. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and wiped his face with a sleeve.

“So there you have it, Captain, no great mystery. The overlooked second son engineers the removal of a bullying older brother and unfeeling father. A sordid little family drama writ large on the stage of politics with the great and good reduced to the status of bit-part actors.”

“Have you received news that the Firstborn has died?”

He snorted, and examined the dregs in his glass.

“The Citadel remains sealed and no official word has been forthcoming, but it is of no importance. Stephen is dead or crippled, and either way he has been unable to raise support from amongst the major nobles – something your master should have been doing instead of indulging in open intrigue with the criminal ‘City Fathers’.

“Every generation of commoners seems to raise a host of simpletons who believe that their actions can somehow change the way of the world. Malcontents, political radicals, students – they have all flocked to enlist in the Militia, as if a hundred different agendas could in some way be melded into a single struggle for the ‘common good’.”

He laughed bitterly, sneering at the perceived futility of all idealists.

“It would seem that our beloved Chancellor will hold the wealth of the city, that is, the wealth of the noble houses, to ransom as a hedge against any formal opposition to Duke Richard. An obvious attempt to gain favour with the new regime and one, frankly, that smacks of desperation. Once he is safely installed I expect the new Duke will unleash a combination of the City Guards, Ducal bodyguard and noble retinues to re-establish the ‘natural’ order of things, and some hard lessons will be learned – by all concerned.”

He leant down and retrieved an almost empty wine bottle from beneath the table, draining it directly in several swallows.

“At least, Captain, that’s the version I’m selling tonight.”

The raven swivelled his head so as to stare at him with both eyes.

“Don’t you start”, Caven glared back at the bird and rose to his feet, “I need another drink.”

The raven watched his retreating back for a moment and then hopped down onto the table to inspect the abandoned card game. It deftly moved a red six onto a black seven, and was safely back on the chair by the time Caven turned from the bar, having secured a fresh bottle.

I looked at the raven, and the raven looked at me. Unbidden, I seemed to hear words without any being spoken.

“What now, wife killer?”

A sudden vision, crystal clear and long ignored, a memory from before my life in the city.

I was standing on a headland, gazing down at a sea the colour of slate, while the light breeze mingled the first snowflakes with ashes from her funeral pyre. I stood alone, my grief an impenetrable aura which had long since driven off the small band of other mourners.

No, not quite alone, for there was a black bird, a raven, perched on a holly bush and fluffing its feathers against the cold.

I looked at the raven, and the raven looked at me. Unbidden, I seemed to hear words without any being spoken.

“What now, wife killer?”

Caven settled his new bottle on the table with a thump which shattered my revere and I tore my gaze away from the black-eyed bird as he sat down.

“Anyway, Captain, I am one of those who believe the Chancellors days are numbered, and lacking his protection I feel free to resolve some unfinished business between us.”

“Us, Caven? There is no us – I was your superior officer, nothing more.”

“You had them tear out the toenails from my left foot during interrogation, even though I freely volunteered the names of all involved.”

He was breathing heavily, nervously clenching and unclenching his left hand, the right still holding the wine bottle in a white-knuckle grip around its neck. I slid my right hand into my coat pocket and the waiting punch dagger. He appeared unarmed, the raven notwithstanding, but as part owner I was sure he could summon an unsavoury selection of ‘minders’ to argue his case in a more persuasive fashion.

“Caven, I received direct instruction from the Citadel that you were to be put to the question. The Duke did not trust any confession that was not extracted using torture - he felt it smacked of political intrigue and subterfuge. I did the least I could under the circumstances and saw that you received prompt medical care once the documents were signed and witnessed.”

He opened his mouth to reply but his gaze suddenly flickered over my right shoulder towards the door. Instead of an attack, verbal or otherwise, he sat back, smiled his thin smile, and poured himself a generous glass. I half turned my head to the right, expecting an obvious trick, but beheld an unwelcome sight – a Militia patrol.

It was the Weasel and three others muttering amongst themselves; two typical street bruisers carrying billyclubs and a tall, gangly youth in better garb with an extended stave. From the lack of dirt and earnest expression I surmised this last fellow was one of the student radicals who had been attracted to the ‘new order’ in the city.

As they moved through the room towards me there was a noticeable movement in the sparse crowd in the general direction of away, leading to a sudden open space around our table. I stood and turned to face them, expecting the Weasel to launch into a tirade and taking a moment to consider his companions more closely. It was a costly mistake, for I had forgotten how easily revenge can overpower a weak man’s natural concern for self-preservation

Instead of abuse the Weasel simply struck me in the face with a meat cleaver, and I felt the skin split from brow to cheek.

I did not cry out, flinch or even blink in response to the blow – all of these instinctive actions were beyond me – and I could see horror blossom in his eyes as he realised how unnatural his opponent was.

For a moment we stood there, a stark tableau that might have been entitled ‘A history of violence’, then I pulled my dagger and stabbed him in the chest. It was a horizontal thrust so as to pass between his ribs but as he twisted away the cheap blade snapped off leaving me with just a set of brass knuckles. The blow sent him reeling back into the arms of his confederates, pink froth escaping his lips, and I failed to catch the cleaver left-handed as it pulled free from my face and fell to the floor.

I turned and ran, five strides taking me to the long walnut bar which ran the width of the room, my ruined face sending the few remaining patrons scrambling. I placed my left hand on the rail and vaulted over in a single fluid movement that would have brought me high praise from my physical instructors back at the Temple.

The trapdoor to the cellar was wide open and I hurtled feet-first into the void.

Such a fall should have been the ruin of me, resulting in broken bones or torn muscles which would have so slowed my progress as to make escape impossible. Instead I planted both boots into the generous bosom of Irene, the barmaid, as she climbed the steps from the vaults. She barely had a chance to scream before being knocked backwards down the stairs, my fall cushioned by her ample frame. I heard the terrible crack of breaking bone and either that or my bulk choked off her cries as we slithered down the stairs.

I rolled off her inert body and strode between the beer barrels without a backwards glance. Knowing the Golden Cup well I was up and out of the delivery ramp long before any pursuit even reached the cellar floor, and I had a choice of poorly illuminated side streets, in both directions, to choose from.

The end of another chapter in my life, and another death on my conscience that I could ill afford.
 
Ten

I kept to the darkest side streets and tried to shield the left side of my face from the gaze of the few pedestrians I encountered. Once I was well away from the Golden Cup I hid in the overgrown back garden of a dilapidated town house and took stock. The false gorget, which had been spectacularly unsuccessful in discouraging attacks upon me, I discarded in the bushes lest the gleam of metal betray my presence. After a moment’s hesitation the brass knuckles followed, for although it was my only weapon my hardened hand could probably inflict as much damage, given enough time to prepare. I badly needed something to conceal my latest injury until I could seek treatment back at the Temple, but I had nothing save my white linen shirt from which to fashion a makeshift bandage, and this in itself would draw unwanted attention.

At this point the Heavens smiled upon me, for two youths passed by in the lane, their conversation the usual mix of bravado and licentiousness common to young men, and the taller was wearing a long sleeved baggy over-shirt complete with cowl. I stepped out behind them and felled the shorter boy by kicking him in the back of the knee; he cried out and collapsed as his leg buckled under him, his companion turning in alarm at this unexpected attack. I grabbed the front of the over-shirt in both hands and rammed the taller boy hard against the wall, grinding his back against the brickwork and leaning in close so that the full ruined glory of my face was apparent. His eyes widened in shock and horror, any thought of resistance draining away like the colour from his face.

“I have a very simple proposition, boy. You give me your shirt in exchange for my nice leather coat, then you and your squealing friend here run away and don’t look back. You’ll be able to impress all the girls with how you stole it, or robbed me, or whatever – the important point being you really, really try to forget my face. Just nod if we have a deal.”

Without waiting for confirmation I stepped back and removed my coat, throwing it at his feet. The youth pulled the shirt off over his head and held it out with trembling arms – thankfully it was fashionably oversized and fitted my torso admirably. His companion now lay sobbing in the gutter, clutching at his knee, and from the acrid odour I was aware that one of them had urinated. I felt no need to spare them a backwards glance and strode off into the night, the first drops of rain sinking soundlessly into the thick cotton covering my head.

The expected downpour failed to materialise as I made my way through the city, merely a light pattering which did little to discourage the increasing numbers of citizens who were now thronging the streets. Although no formal curfew had been declared it had been obvious that the City Fathers favoured a policy of general intimidation, at least in the short term. However, it seemed that the majority of the Militia, although well skilled in acts of personalised violence, were unsuited to controlling large crowds and that the natural nocturnal rhythm of the city had reasserted itself. Those Militia I encountered were generally clustered in small groups, seeking shelter where alcohol was to be found and eyeing the street traffic with evident suspicion and distrust.

I was plagued by thoughts of the Weasel as I walked, for although he had appeared to be a typical street ‘captain’ – intelligent enough to manipulate the more muscle bound members of his band – he was obviously someone of importance within the criminal fraternity. The fact that he had been able to follow me across half the city, through districts controlled by mutually hostile families, and commandeer support once he found me, was a cause for concern. From my time as an Inquisitor I knew that the senior criminal leaders rarely ventured outside their own districts due to the threat posed by endemic vendetta, yet the Weasel was seemingly untroubled by the threat of kidnap and murder. To have made an enemy of such a figure, or to be the focus of revenge if I had killed him, was to complicate my life in the city almost beyond tolerance.

As I neared the Temple it became obvious that I was being watched; several scattered individuals, huddled in doorways and alcoves, as if on sentry duty. They took a keen interest in those passing, and each other, which led me to believe that several factions were abroad. My suspicions were confirmed when I reached Temple Crescent itself to find several groups of ‘civilians’ distributed along its length, each band of brothers glittering with unsheathed blades. Moreover, as I made to enter by the Second Gate I was challenged by the Servitors – the venerable doormen who were all the Temple had to offer by way of its defence – armed with clubs and a variety of improvised weapons that seemed to have their origins in the kitchens. Usually gregarious to the point of irritation, they were tight-lipped as to the near siege conditions that existed and simply ushered me inside before barring the doors.

When I eventually emerged from the restorative plunge pool it was to find Lady Anne of my order waiting for me, holding a fresh robe. She was a slender woman of middle age, wearing the velvet blindfold that marked her as an Adept Augmenta, one of the most accomplished practitioners in the use of Powers. Before letting me dress she held my chin in her hand, twisting it to left and right while inspecting the latest suture work.

“There is a fine line, Captain, between a brutish but appealing face and that of a grotesque. Much more in the way of obvious damage and your appeal to our female benefactors may diminish. Should that happen then the Temple may be forced, reluctantly, to consider the offers received from those noblemen keen to make your acquaintance.” She tapped my cheek, “Take better care.”

“Lady…” I began, but she silenced me with a hand gesture.

“You are to be afforded a singular honour, an audience with one of the Triumvirate, and I trust you will conduct yourself accordingly.” She smiled, and the soul of a young, vibrant woman suddenly looked out, “Come to me when you are free, such that I may inspect your wounds and assess your continued, ah, capabilities.”

She turned in a rustle of skirts and led me, mute, upto the gallery above the First Gate where a cowled figure stood gazing out at the city, his back to us.

“Captain Stone, of the Temple Guard.” She announced my entrance with a deep curtsey and I bowed from the waist.

“Captain Stone, of the Temple Guard.” Intoned the man by the balustrade, “Thank you, Lady Anne, you may go.”

She curtseyed again and left, leaving me in the presence of perhaps the closest thing to one of the Ascended still on earth. The Triumvirate had guided, not ruled, the Temple for several generations and all were Masters in each of the five Senses – an unparalleled achievement which had given rise to a host of rumours and speculation as to their continued humanity, or lack of same.

The Triumvir half turned towards me and pulled back his cowl to reveal a man in his thirties, close cropped brown hair and clean shaven. Yet I knew he had served as spiritual advisor to at least the previous four dukes, and thus, like me, his body was being preserved by the Powers.

“I am Kadesh, sometimes known as the Gardener. Please, Captain, stand by me and tell me what you see in our great city.”

I advanced slowly, feeling the Flux coating my skin begin to prickle and seethe in the aura of Powers emanating from him. This intensified as I stood at his side, his right hand raised and almost touching the back of my head, the feeling akin to static in the air during a thunderstorm.

“Not Niall, that would be obvious,” he spoke softly, almost to himself, “Ah, Petra the Redeemer, how appropriate.”

The interference between us suddenly vanished, and it felt as if the world had suddenly snapped into focus.

“Tell me what you see, Captain.”

“Triumvir, I see - everything. The guards on the Citadel walls, the crowds in Eastgate, the parties in Brighter Suns, everywhere I look it is if I am standing but a hundred paces away and the detail is absolute. Even the stars themselves look close enough to touch and the storm clouds, the storm clouds are…”

Suddenly the world shrank back to normal and it was like closing a shutter on the only window available to a life-long prisoner; everything felt small, confined and shallow beyond description. I swayed and had to grasp the balustrade for support.

“Enough for one day, I think, Captain. Come, sit with me, although neither of us need the rest it is pleasant to retain the formalities, don’t you think?”

I sat on the bench beside him, still bemused by my experience.

“The ability to harness, manipulate, the Powers is innate, Captain, and the training you receive here only serves to enhance the focus of that ability.” He smiled, “The more akin you are to that particular member of the Ascended who channels a specific Power, the more adept you will be in harnessing that energy for your own use.

Perhaps one individual in a generation has a truly open mind, one that can sense and understand multiple Powers, occasionally all of them. That is how I was able to master the five Senses, that is how I was able to sense your patron Power and enhance it, for a short time at least. And, no, Captain, before you ask – you are not such an individual.

But you are going to be useful to me and the Temple, very useful, indeed.”
 
Eleven

Kadesh sat back and rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb, an entirely human gesture but one I knew was merely exquisite mimicry. He even looked somewhat tired as he smiled and took a sip of red wine from the crystal goblet on the table at his elbow.

“It was always hoped that the Ascended would retain enough of their basic humanity so as to treat those left behind with kindness, and, indeed, they provide us with Powers for heat and light, they run our factories and foundries, they even extend life beyond the bounds of conventional medicine.”

He smiled and touched my arm, “We two are living proof of what can be done. Well, perhaps not exactly living as most of humanity would class it, but definitely preferable to the alternative.”

I found his simulated empathy cloying and self-indulgent, but gave no sign of my discomfort as he continued.

“When the Ascended started to change, when they started to identify themselves with the very Powers they manipulated, the quasi-religious veneration that had long accompanied their sacrifice developed into full-blown worship amongst some sections of society. This had long been anticipated, hence the establishment of the Temple and various shrines throughout the city as a means of channelling and controlling religious observance.

When the Ascended for the most part became the Powers, this city and a few others stood aloof when humanity warred against them, which is why we…” he gestured at the city, “…are not a desert of cracked stone. The Powers have treated us well, favoured us with their benevolence, protected the city from any external threats.”

He sighed, “Until now.”

“Some of the Powers have seemingly become degenerate, disinterested in the affairs of mankind. It takes an increasing effort to contact them and some have begun to demand not just worship – formal prayers - but also sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice, Triumvir? I have heard no rumours of this circulating within the Temple or amongst the nobility.”

“At present it is limited to a few of the shrine-based cults; burnt offerings, the ritual slaughter of animals, that kind of obscenity. If allowed to progress unchecked we fear it may result in demands for human sacrifice, provoking an anti-Powers backlash complete with demands we reduce our dependence upon them.”

“No one could seriously consider trying to resurrect the old ways, surely? It would take years to rebuild what are almost lost technologies, even assuming the raw materials are still available in the quantities required.”

He snorted,” I very much doubt that the Powers would tolerate any such attempt at independence. The Ascended were always meddlesome in our affairs, for the greater good, of course, but some of the Powers now consider us utterly beholden to them. Cain the Harvester, in particular, would prove troublesome it were put to the test, and I am talking about direct intervention, not just the withdrawal of their good wishes. No, Captain, if the war taught us nothing else it is that we, as a city, as a people, are dependant upon the Powers, for good or ill.”

He stood and brushed imaginary lint from his robes.

“You found the storm clouds unsettling, Captain?”

“Yes, Triumvir, indeed. When I turned my gaze upon them it was as if they seethed and boiled with an intelligent malevolence, I…”

He raised a hand to silence me, the trace of a smile on his lips.

“Forgive me, Captain, it was an act of artistic licence on my part, one designed to get your attention. The Tempest has been a part of life in the city for so long that it barely registers. From my perspective though, and from yours, given time, you would realise that each year the storm front grows more intense, more violent. It cannot approach the city directly so climbs higher and higher, spreads further north and south, like a great wave threatening to crash down upon us.

For generations we have been shielded from its effects by the Powers, but now their interest in the city is waning. If we do nothing, or worse still provoke their wrath, then I foresee the destruction of everything I have struggled to preserve. Not in their lifetime…“, he gestured at the city, “…but definitely in ours.”

“What would you have us do, Triumvir? Promote open worship of the Powers as a means of getting their attention? Dedicate the city to their service in the hope they will deign to save us?”

“Exactly, Captain, exactly that. It will take quite a degree of cynical manipulation and the exploitation of base instincts but I believe that we can instil a genuine love for the Powers in the general population. Or fear, whichever best serves our purpose.”

“A Theocracy then, with the Triumvirate at its head, to overthrow generations of enlightenment.”

“Nothing so overt, I assure you. Shall we say it will be merely the re-establishment of a moral dimension to government? I believe that the good Duke could live with that, indefinitely”

“You are in contact with Duke Richard then?”

“Not Richard, Stephen. He is dying and has agreed to accept treatment from the Temple. Apparently the darts which struck him had been coated with an exotic toxin and his conventional physicians have been unable to arrest the effects. It is quite remarkable what a man will agree to when it feels like his body is on fire.”

“But none of the Blessed can hold office, and the great nobles would never accept an Eternal Duke – in times past they revolted and overthrew Mikhail for that very reason. The major families depend upon marriage and alliance to supposedly further their ambitions; they need an ever changing political environment, not one stagnating under the rule of an undying despot.”

“Times change, Captain, and the nobles are nothing if not adaptable. No, the dying Stephen will be proclaimed Duke and his first act will be to rescind the statutes prohibiting the Blessed from taking their rightful place in the body politic. Then we will preserve him, as we did you, and in time he will resume his duties as the acknowledged ruler of our great city.”

“And in the months, years, it might take him to regain mastery of his own body?”

“Regency under the Duchess Maud, ably assisted, no doubt, by other members of the Malmorte family.”

“They would still countenance marriage between her and a creature of the Temple?”

“But of course. There will be no children, no heirs, but no need for them either. Stephen will remain ageless and in time require another wife, so the nobles will still have the lure of marriage to ensure their loyalty. The Eternal Duke will be dependant upon the Powers and the city will take its lead from him. Quite an elegant solution, I trust you will agree.”

“But Triumvir, what of the city in the here and now? What of the Citizens Militia, and the Chancellor for that matter?”

“Ah, yes, our good Chancellor. He is hosting a banquet here, now, in the Temple, in the Order of Taste of course. He has gathered all of the self-styled ‘City Fathers’ together in a vain attempt at maintaining control of those districts currently languishing under Militia rule. A thankless task, given the natural propensity of the criminal classes to grab as much as they can and run, although I can but admire his perseverance. Apparently the Temple is the ideal neutral ground that all parties could agree on, and we were more than happy to extend our hospitality in the name of the greater good.

He believes that by securing the wealth of the city, that is, the wealth of the nobles, he can force them to accept Richard as Duke and ignore the laws of succession. Then, of course, there will be a time of blood and stability will return.”

“I have heard rumours to that effect elsewhere this night.”

“Excellent! Well, as part of this agreement he has agreed to disband much of the City Guard and limit what remains, along with the Constables, to those districts not deemed rich enough. As a hedge against anarchy, though, he has proposed that the city institutions be allowed to recruit companies of guards; the financial houses in Exchange, the harbour, apparently even the city Opera will have its own liveried defenders.”

“So the Temple Guard is to be reformed? I should say, Triumvir, that I have no military experience and would be unsuited to the task of command.”

“Now, we both know that isn’t quite true, is it, Captain? You served as a freebooter in your youth, did you not? A harrowing experience by all accounts, and one which drove you into the arms of law and order – to make amends, perhaps?”

“Triumvir, I…”

“No matter!”, he smiled, indulgently, “Suffice it to say that we all regret out pasts, on occasion. However, in terms of the Temple it would seem that our good Chancellor is displaying a lamentable ignorance for once; each Order is entitled to maintain a company of guards, giving five in total. To lead them, and spare you the rigours of actual command, you are being appointed Captain-General of the Temple Guard. An arcane title, but one that gives you equal rank with the Chancellor himself. You will have quite the little army, one I feel sure will soon hold the balance of power in the city.”

“Even five companies, recruited from amongst the disbanded Guards, and assuming they could be adequately equipped, would be no match for the Ducal troops.”

“Nothing so amateur, Captain-General Stone, for to find you troops we intend to awaken the army”.
 
Twelve

Kadesh sat beside me and smiled.

“You are no doubt questioning my judgement in considering using the army for our purposes?”

“Triumvir, the army are almost a myth, not seen in the city for generations. I know they still exist for the Chancellor considered using them to restore order, as a counter to the Militia. Given that he did not deem them reliable I cannot see that they would be any more kindly disposed towards the Temple.”

Kadesh took another sip of wine and sat back, the very picture of a man at ease; confident in his own abilities and mastery of the situation.

As he understood it, for as they say; ignorance is bliss.

“Duke Peter, as was, kept both the city and the army out of the war against the Powers. This gave rise to a degree of frustration, even resentment, amongst the officers as reports of massive losses drifted in. They had friends, family even, serving in other cities and the retribution meted out by the Powers was quite savage, quite savage. This resentment would have subsided in time but the Duke was a kindly man – some would say weak and overly sensitive – and deployed his troops to help the swarms of refugees fleeing the Burning Plains. He gathered in those that survived their wounds, treated them as best we could and housed them south of the river. Prolonged exposure to so much suffering can affect even the most hard-hearted veteran, and the army rank and file soon shared their officer’s distaste for the Powers and their ‘New World Order’. So much so that the Temple swiftly brought about the replacement of Duke Peter by his cousin, Anton, who was prevailed upon to have the entire army stood down, indefinitely.”

“An appropriate history lesson, Triumvir, and one which only serves to increase my reluctance to see them abroad. Doubly so, as you are planning to encourage the overt worship of the Powers.”

Kadesh seemed untroubled, and abruptly changed the topic of conversation.

“The other two members of the Triumvirate, Lady Alison and her sister Fiona, have you met them?”

“No, Triumvir, I have not had that honour, although I have been present at ceremonies where they officiated.”

“A word of warning then; never be alone with Lady Alison or you may find your perspective on life changed forever.”

I sat there dumb, unable to make sense of his words. He continued to smile warmly, but his words had a threatening edge to them that even my enfeebled Hearing could detect.

“Lady Alison, in addition to all her other accomplishments, is an Adept of Thought. You understand that the very whisper of such an ability would have the mob at the gates and bring about the destruction of us all? Good.

Not a myth, not the stuff of legend, or of nightmares for that matter, but an exquisite rarity amongst the practitioners of Powers. She can change, adjust the emotions engendered by the reaction to a specific goad, be it a person, foodstuff, whatever.

Love, hate, trust, fear – she revels in the extreme reactions of others and would cheerfully make as all slaves to our emotions. She sees it as making the human experience worth living, as if intellect, reason, and self-denial were somehow affronts to sensuality. Only Lady Fiona is immune to her ‘charms’ and in close proximity seems to negate her twin sister’s mental meddling.”

“And even the Blessed are at risk of this vicarious emotional riot?”

“Yes, Captain-General, even such as you and I are susceptible. You especially, for I know how you crave spontaneity and she would make you a monster of sensuality, every action an over-reaction, devoid of all social and moral restraints. So, be warned.”

“I take it, Triumvir, that you have had her adjust our sleeping soldiers so as to regard the Powers in a more favourable light?”

He laughed, a grin lighting up his face, but I could tell it was more akin to the enjoyment of a man seeing his pet perform a new trick rather than welcoming a confederate.

“Exactly, Stone, exactly. Except that they will be warrior-fanatics utterly devoted to the rule of Powers and loyal to us only insofar as we are perceived to be of a similar religious rigor. They will take careful handling but I am sure a limited licence to persecute ‘non-believers’ will ensure their overall obedience. It has been difficult securing access to the vaults, but the transformation is proceeding even as we speak and should be complete by Ascension Day. “

“And the Inquisitors, transformed into a religious police to keep the nobility docile?”

I received another broad grin by way of confirmation.

“I see you understand the situation perfectly, my good Captain-General. Now, before dawn you must escort five adepts to the Citadel where you will represent the Temple as a Lord Spiritual in the investiture of Duke Stephen. Thereafter you will attend his wedding to Lady Maud and serve as general liaison between the Temple and Citadel physicians during the new Duke’s initial treatment at our hands. A less than ideal situation I know, but he can hardly be seen to attend us here. Once he is one of the Blessed, and our new ‘crusaders’ are ready to walk the Earth, then we will show our hand.”

“Triumvir, I am your servant in all things, but there may be a complication in my assuming a more prominent role. I recently had cause to injure one of the City Militia, a typical ‘street captain’, and gave it no more thought. Yet this individual was able to cross several city districts unmolested and enlist local support in his unjustified attempts at retribution. I wounded him, perhaps fatally, and received this facial disfigurement in return - I fear a vendetta, regardless of whether he lives or dies.”

Kadesh let his smile fade.

“I will look into this matter, for there are but a few individuals with the immunity you describe and none you would wish for as an enemy. Now go about your business.”

I stood, bowed, and removed myself from his now-brooding presence.

Despite the urgency of my new task I felt obliged to call at the chambers of Lady Anne, where two young female Acolytes answered my knock. Once I had been admitted she dismissed them, but I could hear their girlish giggles erupt even before the door was fully closed. Lady Anne was wearing a short black silk nightdress, inadequately concealed by a long fur-trimmed robe, which exposed a length of leg that some would have found inappropriate. Once the chamber door was secured she rose and gathered the robe about her.

“My apologies, Captain, but I wished your visit to pass in the guise of lust rather than conspiracy. “ She moved to her desk and motioned for me to sit opposite her.

“Now then, let us discuss the overthrow of a living god”.
 
Thirteen

I hesitated, for while I had long known that the higher practitioners in the Temple were prone to spiteful rivalries and petty jealousies, what Lady Anne was suggesting was tantamount to treason in the real world. The Temple was administered by the heads of the five orders, ranking them alongside the major nobility in terms of political influence and prestige. The triumvirate, however, being counted amongst the Blessed, were thus forbidden from more than an advisory role within the Temple, though few would dare to refuse their ‘advice’.

It was obvious that should ‘Duke’ Stephen rescind the statutes restricting the Blessed, in his own best interests of course, this would also allow the triumvirate a much greater sway; I could easily imagine Kadesh as the ‘special advisor’ – or even Chancellor – to the Eternal Duke. My intellect and upbringing balked at the prospect of an open-ended regime with theocratic overtones, but nevertheless I was loath to stand in its way.

“Lady Anne, I must inform you that Triumvir Kadesh has seen fit to honour me with the rank of Captain-General, and even now I am on my way to the Citadel to participate in the investiture of Duke Stephen.”

“The arrogance of the man - even now, after all these years, it never fails to amaze me. Such a promotion was not his to bestow, strictly speaking, but I doubt whether any voice will be raised in objection. I already know of your new role, just as I already know of your mission. Where Kadesh has a weakness it is, being steeped in the Powers, he cannot conceive of anyone significant not using them if given the choice. His sensitivity to the presence of a fellow practitioner is unparalleled, as is his subtlety in manipulating the ebb and flow of energy in a lesser being.

No doubt if someone had used their Sight to lip-read, or Hearing to eavesdrop, then Kadesh would have been instantly aware of the attempted intrusion. However, I simply placed one of the brighter kitchen lads outside of the gallery and he was able to recount the gist of your conversation moments before you arrived. To one such as Kadesh he was simply invisible.”

“Lady, if you know of my commission then you must also know I am charged to leave immediately in the company of five Adepts.”

She snorted with suppressed laughter.

“Although he may try and bend reality to his will, the esteemed Triumvir is helpless in the face of Temple politics. Even now the five Orders are locked in negotiation, trying to find five candidates who are acceptable to all concerned. Such behaviour borders on the infantile, I know, but it is almost as if having achieved instant gratification in one Sense, some Adepts become prone to childish expectations of self-centred satisfaction in general.”

She sighed, and shook her hair loose.

“You know, with that fresh scar you remind me somewhat of the young noblemen, the Dracos, of my youth. Duelling with long blades was still a sporting pastime then, and many the gallant carried facial disfigurements such as yours. Do you have any experience with a sword? You are old enough, I believe, to have experience of formal combat – if you mixed in the right company. Or the wrong, for that matter.”

“Lady, you know that as a young man I served under Captain Shandy, aboard the Bridge of Sighs. Coastal work mostly, and hard times for all concerned. It is not a period in my life that I care to discuss.”

“Well, as I expect that we have at least an hour before you leave, I suggest that we sit together, my bold Captain-General, and find some area of mutual interest that we can discuss.”

There was an unexpected warmth to her smile as she rose, but I felt more akin to a man walking on ice who has just heard that first crack.

- - - - -​

Some little time later a hurried pounding on the door disturbed our conversation and - being fully dressed - she bade me answer. It was a summons for me to join the Chancellor ‘at table’, and after making my farewells I was escorted by a uniformed page to the Hall of Taste where the City Fathers were enjoying our hospitality.

Despite the high vaulted ceiling the air was smoky and it took me a moment to locate the Chancellor – not seated at the head of the packed table but standing half-way down one side, engaged in an animated conversation with an ‘associate’ member of the Patrazie family; a man I knew to run prostitutes in the Hazlet district. I was in no great hurry to confront the Chancellor, as I would have to raise the issue of my new appointment, but I was equally keen to spend as little time as possible amongst the criminal ‘elite’.

The long table was strewn with the remains of several courses and spilt drink, but all my limited sense of Smell could detect was a dish of spiced lamb, popular with dock workers and ferrymen, and one I recalled from my time before the city. The Chancellor waved me over, then continued arguing with the man beside him, who obviously had the support of several around him.

“No, no and no, Councillor Tobias. It is no longer enough to simply steal what we can from the nobility, we simply have to retain control over the means of creating this wealth in the first place. If we can deliver the city into the hands of Duke Richard then, and only then, will you be able to keep what you have looted to date without fear of retribution. If you abandon the streets now then the nobility will simply re-establish control and eventually, eventually, they will come after you with a vengeance.”

“Well, where the hell is this new Duke then? Last I heard he and his little army were camped out at Striding Arches, holding court like was on holiday. Look, Steele, my lads have learned to leave well alone and aren’t interested in acting like the bloody constabulary anyway. “

“All you have to do is maintain a rudiment of control and let the city take care of itself. Simply having the militia on the streets serves to reassure the population that…”

“It’s not us that’s causing the problems...” cut in a third man, “…it’s this damn ‘New City’ movement. Bunch of snot-nosed student radicals and political agitators up to no good I can tell you, and it was you who insisted we take them on board in the first place.”

The Chancellor paused to wipe the sweat from his face and neck.

“Look, can’t you simply remove those causing the most trouble? Break a few heads, arrange a few accidents, play to your strengths?”

“Bit late in the day now, they’ve been running around setting up these ‘workers committees’ and ‘street defence leagues’ like this was some kind of revolt and the big nobs were never coming back. Few of my lads went over to the Markab foundry for a look-see and the site manager’s head is on the gates and the place is being run by a council of foremen. Same all over, local guys elected to be ‘in charge’ but there’s always one or two of those hard cases in the background, offering advice.”

“Can’t get near them either, there’s always a few broadbacks with pickaxe handles hanging around.”

Clearly exasperated the Chancellor left the small group to bemoan the failure of honest intimidation and pulled me to one side.

“I once proposed that you assassinate the Firstborn as a test of your intellectual and analytical faculties.” His eyes were bright, almost feverish, and his grip on my arm over-strong.

“Now I want you to do it for real.”
 
Fourteen

Despite the risk of seeming overly familiar I drew the Chancellor to one side while quickly checking to see if there was any obvious reaction to his works from those seated nearby. However it appeared that the general level of background noise was such that no one was paying heed to his outburst. He had rarely appeared this agitated before and I was aware of several nervous mannerisms which further served to undermine my confidence in his ability to control the situation much longer.

“Lord Chancellor, please! We are not exactly amongst friends here and many in the company would gladly parlay evidence of treason for lenient treatment when normality is restored.”

“Normality? HAH! The city continues to function only because the commonality are too dim-witted to realise that the nobility is powerless, or too timid to seize control of the streets themselves. These small minded imbeciles…” he gestured at the throng, “...cannot see beyond filling their pockets with the moveable wealth that has fallen into their laps, a mere fraction of what business and trade taxation would bring them on an enduring basis.”

I again scanned the room and this time noticed Colonel Thorn in conversation with a small group of heavy-set men over by the north fireplace. Although in civilian garb his military bearing was unmistakable and on closer inspection I identified a further five ‘incognito’ soldiers scattered about the hall, evidently uneasy at the company they were keeping, or perhaps merely because they were out of uniform.

The Chancellor followed my gaze.

“What could best be termed ‘military advisors’ to the Militia, given their woeful attempts at maintaining public order so far. Some of the newly disbanded City Guards have already found their way into their ranks but the City Fathers remain paralysed with indecision.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, seemingly hunched and withdrawn into himself.

“We simply must maintain even the illusion of public order until Duke Richard reaches the city, although his tardiness is inexplicable if he really was behind the removal of both his father and brother. If we cannot deliver the city to him then we face the prospect of a military occupation and God knows what horrors that will bring in its wake.”

“Forgive me Lord Chancellor, but do you now doubt that the Secondborn was responsible?”

“His evident lack of support amongst the nobility, his inertia, no action against his brother’s most prominent supporters, the seemingly obvious attempt at usurpation with no attempt at denying his guilt – this is not the way to effect a smooth transition of power. He is either the unwilling figurehead for a conspiracy of nobles which has escaped my attention entirely, or he has been set up as an obvious distraction while some other faction works behind the scenes.”

“I heard mention of the ‘New City’ movement, not something I was aware of as an Inquisitor.”

“More than the usual bunch of malcontents, radicals and rabble-rousers, that is certain. They have organisation and purpose and unchecked will prove to be a major thorn in the side of the new administration. Which brings me to you.

While there is still the faint prospect that Stephen will recover the major nobles will remain uncommitted, and even if he does it will take weeks, months, before he is fully fit to lead the city. We simply cannot endure such a hiatus, even if ‘Duchess’ Maud were to rule in his stead and could be reconciled with Richard. No, regrettably Stephen must be removed and the situation clarified.”

“I recall an earlier conversation, my lord, in which I expressed scepticism at the chances of an assassin breaching ducal security and emerging unscathed. The current situation would seem to hold even less prospect for success.”

“Although I am currently out of favour with the ducal household, pragmatic forces within the Citadel have already contacted me, informally, with a view to opening negotiations. Nadia will be my liaison with the court, and you will accompany her in the role of bodyguard. I will supply you with an explosive device, which will pass undetected due to your unique condition, and you are to improvise an attack resulting in the death of the unfortunate Stephen.”

“Pass undetected, how?”

“Inside you, obviously! I have agents within the Citadel still, and although they lack access to the person of the Firstborn, they will be able to arrange your escape in the resulting confusion.”

This was insanity born of political desperation and I was having none of it.

“Lord Chancellor, I must inform you that I have been appointed Captain-General of the Temple Guard, and will shortly attend the investiture of Duke Stephen in the role of Lord Spiritual and Herald of the Ascended. The new Duke will accept treatment from the Temple in return for rescinding all statutes denying the Blessed their place in the body politic.”

He stared at me, unblinking, for the longest five seconds of my existence.

“Excellent, excellent, Captain-General Stone. Once he has been ‘preserved’ he will be even more vulnerable to the right kind of weapon, one that you can carry in your new position as a lord of the city without challenge. A weirding weapon, a dagger, the exact nature is unimportant, merely the conflict of Powers will be enough to despatch the new Duke. Duchess Maud will then marry Richard, I will deliver the city into their hands, and all factions will be reconciled.”

And they all lived happily ever after.

A trite thought, I know, but this new capacity for self delusion had undermined my respect for the Chancellor as a political manipulator par excellence. However, this grotesque fantasy had visibly restored his old confidence and he straightened up, stroking his moustache with some of the old twinkle in his eye.

“Go now. Do it quickly, do it soon while I instil some backbone in this rabble.”

He slapped me on the back as I departed to the sound of raised voices and fallen idols.
 
Fifteen

I returned to the main Temple courtyard to find it in a state of ordered chaos. The five Adepts had been assembled, each wearing an ankle-length grey cloak lined in the colour particular to their order, and were to travel under a ceremonial canopy supported by four gild poles in the hands of younger servitors. Apparently we had to walk an exact route as part of the investiture proceedings and they were still assembling the required lampboys and drummers to accompany us.

I was ushered into a side chamber where my new attire had been prepared; pearl grey uniform tunic and trousers, knee-high boots, burnished back-and-breast plates topped off with an open-faced helmet sporting a prominent nasal guard. A set of spurs were provided but as a suitable grey gelding could not be found in short order it was deemed acceptable from me to walk also. I considered this a mixed blessing as the armour was constricting and weighed close to thirty pounds – I did not ‘feel’ the weight in the usual sense but it made my movements clumsy and self-conscious. Lastly they equipped me with both a ceremonial walking-out dagger for my right hip and a longsword to hang at my left; a venerable antique in a silver scabbard and carried on a broad baldrick of wine-red leather. I ‘instinctively’ rested my left hand upon the pommel so that the tip of the scabbard did not trail along the ground – some old habits never leave you.

As I took my place ahead of the procession Kadesh appeared on the inner gallery above us and looked down, bare-headed and smiling. Suddenly his attention was drawn to a commotion behind our merry band and the smile slid from his face like fish from a plate. I became aware of the rhythmic tramp of iron-shod boots on stone and slowly the chatter in the courtyard subsided to whispers and the odd nervous laugh as all attention focused in that direction.

A small procession emerged from the Order of Speech; twelve men in full carapace armour, completely encased save for a narrow eye-slit. The metal had a matt-black finish, not just unreflective it seemed to draw the very lustre out of the surrounding lamp light, lending them a monochrome and gloomy visage. As to visible weaponry they carried a short sword on each hip and their gauntlets seemed over-large to be merely functional. They advanced in a column of two’s, accompanied by two women in early middle age wearing the full multi-coloured robes of a Grand Master; Triumvir Alison and her sister, Fiona.

The crowd fell back before them as the squad halted and came to parade rest with a crash of arms and armour. Lady Alison was a well-rounded woman, her face radiant, her hair wild, her manner extravagant.

“Are they not magnificent! My brave boys, my myrmidons, my warriors of the soul!”

She hugged the nearest soldier and where her hand touched his breastplate the outline of her hand seemed to glow, a faint tracery of diffuse light that only slowly faded from view.

“Lady Alison, this is NOT what we discussed” Kadesh was almost bellowing, his voice like thunder, his face set like stone, and some of the more sensitive practitioners of Hearing shied away, covering their ears.

Lady Alison smiled, a beatific smile, innocent and free of all guile and malice.

“Shall we discuss it, dear Kadesh, just us two, in private?”

I swear he positively blanched at the prospect, leading me to believe that some of his emotional mimicry was now involuntary and spontaneous – a rare sign of weakness that would not go unnoticed.

“Bring your sister” he snapped and retreated from view.

The two women moved towards the stairs and for a moment I caught Lady Fiona’s eye – a thin, pale figure that seemed lost amidst the brilliant hues of her robe. She looked the exact opposite of her exuberant sister, with a world-weary air that spoke of an emotional and mental war without end.

With their departure I expected chaos to return and our departure to be delayed, indefinitely, but the nearest soldier stepped towards me and came to attention.

“Captain-General, I am sergeant Barca, the escort detail is at your service.”

I glanced up at the empty gallery and decided that it was best to put some distance between us and the squabbling Triumvirate.

“Four men either side of the procession, three as rearguard, you and I at the head.”

“At once, my lord”.

His deployed his men with commendable efficiency and I commenced proceedings through the simple expedient of having the escort march off, shepherding my charges along like a flock of cowed sheep.

Once into Temple Crescent I was able to bring a degree of order to the column; an outer cordon of lampboys, drummers fore and aft, so to speak, and the escort walling in the Adepts under their canopy. As we moved off towards Ascension Way, the arrow-straight boulevard which linked Plaza and Citadel, it became obvious that the uncommon aspect of the escort was attracting a lot of attention, despite the early hour.

A small gaggle of street urchins accompanied us, along with a number of curious onlookers, late-night revellers gawping at the ‘parade’ and the occasional street vendor attracted by the crowd. Eventually I noticed we had been joined by an elderly gentleman with the look and manner of an academic, fully clothed but wearing carpet slippers, keeping pace and venturing as close as he dared to the right-hand escorts. He kept peering intently at them, then halting – almost as if in conversation with himself – then shaking his head and scurrying to catch up. As we passed under Blazing Arch though the increased illumination gave him his first clear view of my little command and he stopped dead in his tracks, his hands in a constant washing motion, muttering to himself. We had not gone more than twenty paces, however, before his voice rose enough for me to hear him over the din.

“It’s the army. It’s the army. It’s the army. IT’S THE ARMY!”

A number of - presumably well-educated - individuals immediately scattered and the remainder of our spectators paused, hesitant, obviously unsettled by the sudden display of alarm. Fear swept over them like a shadow and the crowd rapidly dispersed, even the most inebriated finally staggering for cover.

We marched on alone to the steady drum-beat, the broad roadway now strangely empty, but I was conscious of furtive individuals behind trees and atop high ways regarding us with fearful fascination. Eventually we breasted The Rise and started down the long incline to the main Citadel gatehouse. I could see it in the distance, ablaze with light and with a line of glittering ducal troopers lining the immediate approach to the double archway.

As we drew close the right-hand double doors swung open, signifying we were entering as major dignitaries, and as per protocol our drums fell silent. Immediately we were greeted by a fanfare of trumpets and we passed under the arch into Traitors Court as the guards came to attention. Another fanfare from the walls behind us and we halted, a small group of court officials waiting to greet us. One man stepped forward; aged, tall, and gaunt, in robes of faded grey that matched the pallor of his skin. He carried a staff of black unadorned wood, although from his bearing it probably served him more as a weapon than walking stick.

“I am Petri, Lord Chamberlin of the ducal household. You are all most welcome on this joyous morning.”

He moved closer and we exchanged formal bows.

“Greetings, Captain-General Stone, you are under arrest.”
 
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Hi all,

Two back-to-back 'episodes' as I'm not back on night shift until the 14th.

Cheers,

Martin
 
OK, so I lied. Due to adverse weather conditions (the regular night shift operator is snowed in) I'm here again, so another posting.

Martin
 
Sixteen

It was now near dawn, and I had no desire for this to be my last day on earth. However, I heard the creak of armour as sergeant Barca changed his stance, making no move towards his sword hilts but instead flexing the fingers of his right gauntlet. I saw the Chamberlin’s eyes flicker over our group and assumed that the remainder of the escort detail were similarly alerted.

“Lord Chamberlin, if I were, for the sake of argument, to cry out ‘To arms, we are betrayed!”, how many in this courtyard do you think would survive?”

“None, but eventually the household troopers would bring down your men, regardless of how well-armoured they may be. Even now we are retrieving the archived weaponry of their time, weaponry that I note you lack.”

Barca spoke up, displaying a clear disregard for political niceties and a potentially troubling propensity for independent action.

“Eventually can be an awfully long time when you are clearly outclassed man-to-man, so do not assume they will fight to the last man out of a misguided sense of loyalty. Give the word, sir, and my men will sweep the walls clean of these unbelievers.”

I had no idea if he possessed the means to carry out his threat, but he certainly sounded convincing to me and, more importantly, to Chamberlin Petri. Unfortunately I knew that a court official of his standing could not be seen to yield in such circumstances and would rather die first, taking us all with him. I needed to ‘raise the stakes’ as a means of providing a face-saving compromise.

“Stand ready, sergeant, but no action except on my command. Unless I am struck down, in which case fight your way clear and bring word to the Temple that the city has declared war upon the Ascended.”

Petri stiffened, his features set in a look of fatalistic determination.

“Unless…” I continued,”…this has all been a terrible misunderstanding. It would be embarrassing indeed should the lords Spiritual and Temporal come to blows over a mere form of words.”

“Exactly my thoughts, Captain-General, for when I said ‘arrest’ it was merely a legal formality, given that you are, for now, in violation of city statutes.”

His face relaxed and he became once more the picture of urbane efficiency.

“We have prepared a breakfast meal for all our visiting dignitaries in the Great Hall, and I am sure the kitchens can also provide sustenance for your servants. Please, accept our hospitality and join us within.”

“My escort detail is charged with the safety of the Adepts in all circumstances, and as such also function as their food tasters. I trust it will not pose a problem for them to dine at the same table?”

Although his face was largely obscured, I could see the creases around his eyes as Barca smiled. The Chamberlin took the affront in his stride.

“Of course not, Lord Stone, it is our honour to once again play host to the venerated defenders of our great city. Please, go in.”

As the group moved off Petri motioned me to one side and we walked slowly across the courtyard towards a bench beneath a weeping willow. We sat, illuminated by lanterns hanging from the branches. The Chamberlin was all smiles but his manner was one of restrained hostility.

“Let me be clear, should Stephen as Duke not legalise your position then I will have you handed over to the Inquisitors, and no relics from our distant history will save you.”

“I understand perfectly, Lord Chamberlin. Incidentally, what are the charges?”

“Impersonating an officer of the court and bearing illegal arms. Are there any other crimes you would like added to the warrant, such that they may be taken into account? Prostitution, assault, murder even? I am given to understand that confession is good for the soul, although I genuinely doubt that a creature such as yourself still has one.”

“Well, I have been charged by Chancellor Steele to assassinate the new Duke after his preservation, thus clearing the way for a union between Maud and Richard. The dagger I carry is a weirding weapon, a blade of the Powers, and the merest touch will probably prove fatal to a creature such as Stephen will become, if all goes well”

Petri stared at me aghast for a moment then recovered his calm.

“Whereas the confession of intent is sufficient to condemn you, allegations against such a personage as the Chancellor will require substantial proof before any charges can be brought before the High Court. Do you have such proof?”

He leaned slightly towards me in an eager, almost conspiratorial manner, and I was sorry to disappoint him.

“Alas, Lord Chamberlin, we both know the Chancellor too well to expect any solid evidence of his complicity. Verbal commands in private or in the presence of those bound to him without question are his forte. I merely implicate him as a warning that his loyalties may now lie elsewhere.”

“Granted, his actions during this crisis have been the cause of some concern, and his overall strategy for resolving the situation still eludes us, but we have received private assurances that all will be resolved to our satisfaction in the near future. Nevertheless, your allegations will serve to strengthen the conviction amongst some of us that his maverick behaviour may have now gone too far.”

He rose and motioned for me to do so.

“No matter, this whole affair will be laid before the Duke and he alone will decide your fate. Now, accompany me to the Great Hall, for although I know you require no sustenance there are several visiting dignitaries you should meet prior to today’s ceremonies. Many of the nobility have sought refuge with us during the disturbances and an informal setting is perhaps the best way to introduce you. You can expect a degree of prejudice even resentment, at your appointment – so try and show restraint.”

As we entered the hall he paused.

“Your dagger, please.”

I unhooked it from my belt and handed it to him, and although he probably felt nothing merely handling the scabbard made my hand burn. He summoned a liveried footman and passed on my weapon – a plain, functional, thing of unadorned metal and leather.

“Go to the armoury and find something more suitable for one of Lord Stone’s rank. Bejewelled but not gaudy, and place that in the special vault. Understand?”

The footman bowed and vanished into the small crowd with that talent particular to accomplished servants who swim unseen in a sea of rank and privilege. Two other servants assisted in the removal of my remaining martial equipment in an ante-chamber, and thus suitably attired I was formally launched into high society.

The Chamberlin introduced me to a number of the lesser nobility, most of whom I recognised from attending social functions as a gallant, but none of whom seemed to see beyond my new uniform and rank. Eventually he steered me towards a couple with their backs to us as they stood admiring a full-sized portrait of the late Duke and his two sons. The man was grey-haired and had that pseudo-military bearing common to many of the aristocracy, whereas the woman was apparently much younger – not that mismatched ages were uncommon in such marriages.

“Lord Stone, may I introduce a visitor to our fair city, Lord Hamilton of Tyr...”

The couple turned to face us.

“… and his delightful daughter, the Lady Victoria.”
 
Seventeen

At that moment I considered myself fortunate to lack involuntary reactions, contenting myself with a deep formal bow. ‘Lord’ Hamilton replied with a brief nod and a gruff ‘Stone’, whereas I received both a full curtsey and extended hand from Victoria, the court protocol for a first contact. I took her hand in mine and bent over, brushing her knuckles with my lips and feeling a slight squeeze in return. I murmured some inane pleasantry and was surprised at the clipped vowels and formal intonation of her reply – far removed from the usual city accent. Luckily Petri ushered me away at that point and seemed plainly irritated by their presence.

“Really, some of these provincial aristocrats are little better than wealthy peasants. Oh, no doubt Hamilton will be excused as a ‘rough diamond’ if he is rich enough, and the girl plainly has had enough schooling to acquire a titled but impoverished husband without undue embarrassment, but they both reek of ‘new money’ to an extent that most will find vulgar.”

“Have they been here long?”

“A day or so – I believe he is a business associate of Lord Scales as they arrived in the same company. Speaking of whom…”.

Lord Scales I barely knew, only having glimpsed him at social functions when in the company of another man’s wife. He was small and dapper with all the nervous energy of a rabid terrier and plainly oblivious to his wife’s dalliances.

“Stone, Stone? Know the face, can’t place you though – sorry. Military man though? See you’ve brought the army out, ‘bout time too. Soon sort these beggars out, what? I remember the stories my grandfather told me, that his grandfather told him, good fighters, the army, but roughnecks all. Need a firm hand and adequate time in the brothels – sorry m’dear – to keep them in trim.”

Lady Scales was her usual resplendent self and plainly pleased to see me.

“Perhaps you remember Lord Stone in less formal attire, dear – I certainly do – as he has only recently taken up his new appointment. I am so pleased to see you again, my Lord, and hope to see much more of you during your stay in the Citadel.”

When Petri finally led me away there was the hint of a smile playing on his thin lips.

“You would be well advised, Captain-General, to avoid any hint of scandal during your stay here. Many of the more, ah, traditional nobility will regard your mere presence as an affront, regardless of ducal toleration. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, Lord Chamberlin, and to change the subject – should not the wedding breakfast have waited for the actual ceremony?”

“Given the poor health of the bridegroom it was felt that his direct involvement in the proceedings should be kept to a minimum. He will now appear in public only following a private wedding, for the toast and acclimation as Duke and Duchess. I trust you are fully conversant with your expected role as Lord Spiritual?”

I nodded, my attention being drawn to my army escort, eight of whom lined the north wall while four of their number sat at table. Those who weren’t eating – with the bare left hand only – were at parade rest but intent on something opposite. Although my view was largely obscured by the crowd I caught a glimpse of glittering armour and realised there were ducal troopers facing my men across the hall. I indicated their presence to the Chamberlin who merely shrugged.

“A ceremonial guard, no more, and indeed your men should feel honoured by acting as half the detail. My men will take no precipitous action, and I trust you can restrain yours? Good. Now, I must attend to matters of protocol while you try and avoid making a fool of yourself. I advise you to say nothing and do less.”

He swept off through the throng which seemed to part at his coming and closed seamlessly in his wake. I positioned myself next to sergeant Barca against the wall.

“No swords, sergeant?”

“Had to check ‘em in at the door, sir. Mostly just for show anyway – gives the public a tangible threat, something obvious.”

“Your gauntlet then, could you really have swept the troopers from the walls?”

He smiled, “Well, maybe I could knock one on his ass if he came within twenty-five yards. We call it a ‘longarm’ sir, quite descriptive, really. No sense of touch though, but a skilled man can goose a likely lass in all innocence.”

His smile faded and he shifted his stance as if suddenly uncomfortable.

“Most of the lads, sir, don’t really realise just now long we’ve been stood down. Some of them were thinking of looking up their relatives when on leave – I don’t think the term ‘descendants’ really means anything.”

“And you, sergeant, did you have family?”

“Me sir? No sir – I was a caravanserai, a merchant brat before the army, before the war. No family, no ties, no one to miss – well, maybe a couple of dancers from the Harlequin. I understand it’s still its old self and worth a visit, though knowing my luck I’d hook up with my great-great-whatever granddaughter!”

I gave him my best rueful smile.

“Has it changed much, Barca, the city?”

“Bigger in places from what I’ve seen, bits missing too. Hemlines down, necklines as well though, still, I’m career military. I don’t think cooks, gamblers and whores will ever change much so I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about our missing weapons by the way, sir. Needle projectors, ‘lancers’, they need a suit like ours to juice them up. The eight towers are gone though, so maybe they still have the big boys stashed away someplace. Now that could get nasty and no mistake.”

“You and your men, you’ll adjust though?”

“Yeah, yeah, but I think those shiny boys and us will need to have a little chat before long. Elite troops? Don’t make me laugh.”

He lapsed into a glowering contemplation of the ‘shiny boys’ lining the opposite wall while his men ate by relays. I stood silently beside him, avoiding any opportunities for ‘social interaction’ until Chamberlin Petri returned, now wearing his seal of office on a purple sash.

“Captain-General, the happy couple will see you now.”
 
Eighteen

I walked beside the Chamberlin as he again displayed an ability to open a path through the throng of aristocrats and servants. Although he seemed outwardly at ease I could detect the tell-tale signs of inward stress in his sudden eye movements and the white-knuckle grip upon his staff.

“Lord Chamberlin, how went the marriage ceremony?”

“Brief, perfunctory, devoid of all dignity and grace – but it will suffice. The Malmorte family insisted it take place before the investiture so there would be no quibble over Lady Maud’s status, under ducal law a couple are treated as co-rulers when either ascends to the title, whereas if they married later a special must pass the High Court to elevate the spouse beyond that of mere consort.”

He guided me around the left side of the dais towards a small door guarded by two troopers.

“Usually just a formality, but Lord Hugo Malmorte, father of the bride, is wary in case all his efforts to have Stephen accepted as duke went, ah, unrecognised. Even now the nobility expect Stephen to die within days, leaving Duchess Maud as a valuable marriage asset to her family.”

The small ante-chamber he led me to was still occupied by the marriage party, most of whom were conspicuously keeping clear of the ‘happy couple’ on their improvised thrones, flanked by guards. The Firstborn looked hellish; the left side of his face a mass of ruptured blisters, his eye glazed so as to be almost white, his skin flushed and feverish. He seemed shrivelled, lost in the seemingly over-large fur-trimmed cloak that was draped around him, but as I drew close I could see in his good eye the fire of a man who would spit in the face of Fate and hazard the consequences. Lady Maud wore a similar red cloak over her jet-black wedding finery, offset by a tracery of pearls. She seemed tense and I wondered if she has sufficiently suppressed her revulsion when called upon to kiss her new husband.

Stephen dismissed her with a murmured aside and she walked stiffly to where her family were in conversation. He motioned Petri and I closer.

“Well, Lord Stone I am so glad you could join us on this joyous occasion. I have had two documents prepared, awaiting only my signature as duke. The first rescinds, in general terms, the strictures on your kind holding office and title. The second is my personal commission for you alone, a Warrant of Impunity, charging you with the apprehension and execution of those responsible for reducing me to this.”

“My Lord, “murmured Petri, “bestowing such wide-ranging powers is perhaps unwise. Given the stress of your illness, perhaps a delay until you have sufficiently recovered so as to make a more considered…”

“Enough! You old fool, try to imagine every waking moment consumed by agony and then lecture me on what is ‘unwise’. Stone, as an Inquisitor you were conversant with the most extreme forms of torture, no?”

I hesitated, as it was an unwritten law that the Duke and his officials did not enquire too closely into the workings of its special investigators. Although the Temple of Truth was not quite a law unto itself, it provided solutions to problems which the ‘great and good’ generally did not wish to sully themselves with.

“I have witnessed robust forms of interrogation which some might find distasteful, my lord. In the hands of a talented and experienced ‘artisan of pain’ I have known suspects to beg for death following a full confession. However, I have often queried the value of such intense questioning as…”

“No matter! Hunt down and destroy my enemies, understand? This is to be punishment, retribution, revenge from beyond the grave should I not survive.”

Petri was looking increasingly uncomfortable at this naked abuse of power.

“My Lord, the High Court is perhaps the appropriate place…”

“One more interruption and I will have you replaced!”

The Chamberlin bowed and withdrew, his face a mask of stone.

Stephen coughed, his whole body wracked by the spasm and an attendant stepped in to dab his lips with a cloth. I noticed that it came away bloody and realised that he had very little time left without the treatment that only the Temple could provide. He motioned me even closer, causing the guards to tense, and grabbed my shoulder with his good arm.

“What is it like, a life beyond life, truly?”

“If you survive the treatment, and not all do so, it will take weeks, months to regain control over your body. At first what you will experience will seem like the memory of a sensation, almost like recalling how you felt while dreaming. It will feel disjointed, as if there were a pause, a delay between knowing you are touching something and any sensation of doing so. Everyone has an affinity for one of the senses, occasionally more, and this will always prove your strongest link to the real world. Some cannot adjust to existence as the Blessed and end themselves, we that survive do so in the hope of regaining our humanity. That hope is all I can offer you now.”

He released me and sat back, seemingly satisfied.

Along with the others required for the investiture I was ushered out onto the dais in the Great Hall to face the expectant crowd. Supported by his new wife, Stephen was able to walk out – to thunderous applause – and seat himself on the carved, high-backed throne. He was wearing the ornate winged helmet dictated by the ceremony, which did much to hide the ruin of his face, while Lady Maud stood at his left.

Following a blessing by the Church of the Cross the Chamberlin stepped forward and brought the iron-shod staff down with a sharp crack on the bare stone.

“In the tradition of our ancestors I hereby give notice that Stephen, the firstborn of our late Duke Leon, has laid claim to his father’s inheritance. Be there any here present who would dispute this, they must speak now, without fear or favour, before this assembly of succession.”

Truthfully, I expected some dramatic interruption; ‘Duke’ Richard, the Chancellor, perhaps even Saul the Forgiver himself to pop up and bring the whole edifice crashing down, but the moment passed.

“I call upon the Lords Spiritual and Temporal to recognise his claim and proclaim him as Duke”.

Lady Maud reached over and helped him to remove his helmet and I heard the ripple of revulsion run through the assembly as they saw what Stephen had become. She stepped back and fully behind him while Petri formally motioned us forwards, perhaps just a tad quicker than decorum demanded, and that was my cue. Taking the half-circlet of gold from the cushion held by an attendant I held it over his head from the right side while Lord Malmorte did the same from the left.

“I, Lord Stone, Captain-General of the Temple, Herald of the Ascended, recognise and proclaim Stephen, Lord Dominar, as Duke of the city and surrounds.”

“I, Lord Hugo Malmorte, First Avion, Voice of Those Left Behind, recognise and proclaim Stephen, Lord Dominar, as Duke of the city and surrounds.”

The two halves of the circlet slotted smoothly together and we lowered it onto Stephen’s head.

Again the staff struck stone.

“All hail Duke Stephen!”

“So say we all!”
 
Nineteen

Duke Stephen arose and stood unaided, although it seemed to take the last of whatever strength he possessed. When he spoke I could see flecks of blood on his lips.

“I, Stephen, Lord Dominar, Duke of the Air, swear to uphold and defend the rights of all, without favour or fortune, under the Arch of Heaven.”

With difficulty he held out his left arm and Lady Maud stepped forward to rest her hand on his.

“By ancient custom, and by right of succession, my wife and partner joins me in this joyful duty as Duchess and co-ruler.”

“Stephen and Maud!”

The whole assembly went down on bended knee apart from the ducal troopers and my army escort who came to attention. The couple spoke together, although I could hear Duchess Maud hesitate in places to keep pace with Stephen’s faltering voice.

“We acknowledge and accept your homage, freely given, on behalf of all citizens of this fair city. Let the news go forth such that peace and prosperity may return to our streets, and let none stand against us, the true rulers of this, our shining city.”

The couple made their way from the dais and exited through the door leading to the Long Corridor and the ducal apartments, although I suspected the infirmary was his true destination. Chamberlin Petri was the first to rise and then bade us do the same.

“The ceremony is complete, the succession is secured. All is as it should be, let the celebration commence!”

Servants bearing salvers of drinks began to circulate and the crowd broke up into small groups of subdued ‘revellers’. I had planned to rejoin sergeant Barca and his men over by the side tables but as I left the dais a woman took me by the arm.

Nadia, resplendent in a formal court gown of layered silk.

“Lord Stone, the Chancellor sends his apologies but he has been unavoidably detained by affairs of state. He asks that you extend his best wishes to the happy couple at the earliest opportunity and hopes that the health of our new Duke will soon no longer be a cause for concern.”

She smiled sweetly and to have shaken off her arm would have caused a scene and no doubt confirmed the prejudice of those who considered me unfit for polite society.

“Nadia, this is madness. It is an open secret that you are here as the Chancellor’s representative and to openly associate with me calls my actions into question. If I was being watched before then you can be assured I will be doubly so now.”

She giggled like a girl of twelve and hugged my arm.

“Oh, how serious! You are well known as the Chancellor’s plaything, ex-plaything given your new rank, but even more so as a creature of the Temple. Accordingly you will be considered ‘safe’ around the Duke, especially as he receives treatment at the hands of your Adepts. Incidentally, you would do well to check that he has honoured your agreement and that the document contains both signatures.”

She kissed my cheek and released me, fishing a glass from a passing servant without causing him to break step.

“As this is your first time in the Citadel you may wish to know that the Chancellor heartily recommends the rose garden on the south terrace as a place of exceptional beauty. Apparently it is the perfect place should you wish to ‘get away from it all’, as the saying goes, just before sunset. Rain or shine, come what may.”

She favoured me with a deep curtsey without spilling her drink and in a moment was lost in the crowd. I stood for a moment, pondering her words, and wished I could have uttered an involuntary groan as Petri again approached me.

“As an officer of the court your presence is required on a, ah, domestic matter. Follow me.”

I trailed in his wake as we made our way out into the Long Corridor and from there to an informal sitting room where a family dispute was in progress; I could hear the raised voices even through the stout oak door.

“NO, FATHER! I will have my own attendants and I will have my own advisors. This was all agreed and I would never have married that, that travesty of a man if I was to be merely a figurehead.”

Duchess Maud was in a fury, pacing the carpet to and fro, turning in a sweep of skirts and pearls. Two ladies-in-waiting hovered ineffectually in the background while Lord Malmorte, a great bear of a man with heavy brows and hair swept back from a widow’s peak, stood with his arms half-spread in a conciliatory manner. There were others in attendance but such was the focus of the room on father and daughter that an accurate description of them eludes me.

“My dear, that was before! Lacking Stephen and the guidance, the experience of his personal advisors – selected no doubt by the old Duke – you need a wider circle. The same applies to your attendants, as servants of the sole effective ruler they will be expected to function as your informal diplomats and informers. All I am suggesting is that you accept a few trusted people that I will recommend, plus some from the existing ducal household, in addition to your own nominees.”

“And what of this guardian you would foist upon me? Am I so unfit to rule that I require a male consort while Stephen is ‘indisposed’?”

“Not a consort girl, merely a, a champion, a representative of your interests. He would spare you some of the consequences of your actions.”

“But a man, nevertheless, and I am considered too squeamish for the reality of rule. Oh father, you will find you have raised me far too well to be frightened by the thought of spilling blood to remain in power.”

“But you are still young, and your tutelage incomplete, which is why I will be your Lord Protector and overseer of your interests. It is a perfect solution and both the Citadel hierarchy and the Temple would support my appointment. Is that not true, gentlemen?”

Petri glanced in my direction and clearly felt he could speak on my behalf.

“We would, of course, respect any decision in this matter, any nominee put forward by Your Grace, as a matter of course.”

Duchess Maud glared at us both.

“Very well, if a decision must be made let it be made now, at once.”

She swept from the room and we hurried after her. Once back in the Great Hall the Chamberlin arranged us on the dais, the Duchess in the centre flanked by myself and her father as her principle supporters, with a bank rank of court functionaries. Petri himself stood off to the right, as master of ceremonies. The sound of his staff on stone drew the room to order and Duchess Maud stepped forward, thin lipped, her face flushed.

“By ancient custom I am entitled to appoint a guardian of my interests should my husband, Duke Stephen, be unable to fulfil those duties. Alas, you will all be aware of his ill health at present and thus, with deep regret, I must ask one amongst you to step forward and be my strong right arm until he recovers.”

She glanced over her shoulder at her father – a satisfied smile on his lips – and then at me. There was a terrible look of defiance on her face and I felt apprehension grow in me like a gathering storm.

“I appoint Captain-General Stone as Lord Protector of the city and Warden of the Citadel!”

I looked out over a sea of shocked and silent faces and caught sight of Victoria standing at the front of the hall. She raised a glass is salute and I could clearly see the look of satisfaction, perhaps even triumph, on her face.

From my vantage point on the dais I could see right out through the large arched windows to the main courtyard beyond, where movement caught my attention. I saw the silent flourish of trumpets and the main right-hand gate swing open, the guards dropping to one knee, heads bowed.

A dark figure on a pale horse trotted slowly in under the arch.

And Hell followed after.
 
Well, this concludes my story arc for the present. Thanks for all 'my readers' who have waded though some 20k words and I trust you have enjoyed? your visit to the city by the sea. I've cut/pared/reduced a lot to keep each segment down to about 1200 words, so I apologise if losing some of the 'extra' detail has made some sections a bit sparce and others overly wordy. Ho hum!

Cheers,

Martin Clark
magpie26@iname.com
 
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