Moon's Artifice (7 page)

The blackened blade flashed once more in his star-lit eyes and then all was dark.

Blood stains his hands and streaks the grey of his trousers. His knees are damp, sodden by the dark, sticky mess of death surrounding the unconscious Wyvern nobleman. The stink of human waste hangs thick on the air, the voided bowels of those who have died, but there is no time to be disgusted. Enchei tears a surcoat from the body of one fallen guard, uses a knife to cut away the bloodied front. This he wads up and, pulling Narin’s blood-slicked hand away from the nobleman’s crotch, he presses the fresh bandage against the wound.

‘He’s still alive ?’ Narin hears himself ask as the first compress peels jerkily away from his palm and flops to the ground.

‘He’ll live,’ Enchei confirms, ‘but this needs proper bandaging.’

‘Can we carry him ? It’s not far to Dragon District.’

Enchei is silent for a while. There’s a smear of blood on his forehead – not his own, he’s just wiped away the sweat of his exertions with bloodied hands.

‘No, I have a better idea,’ he says at last.

‘Better than taking him to safety ?’

The tattooist nods. ‘I know a woman, not far from here. A midwife, she’ll have clean bandages.’

‘You’d trust her over a Great House’s finest doctors ?’

Enchei shrugs. ‘I’ll do it myself.’

‘Yourself ?’ Narin looks around at the bodies of their attackers. He is reminded of how quickly Enchei killed them, the quick efficiency with which he made corpses of six killers. ‘How are we even alive ?’

‘Told you I was a soldier,’ Enchei says gruffly. ‘Was a damn good one, ’cept the bit about taking orders from fools.’

‘And you learned to wrap wounds too ?’

‘In war men get hurt quite a lot.’

Enchei looks the nobleman up and down and for the first time Narin does so properly. The man they’ve saved is not typical of his countrymen ; he’s short and rotund with a thick neck and lighter skin than most Wyverns. Without warning the tattooist grabs Narin’s hand and uses it to take the place of his own. That done he begins to strip off the nobleman’s once-grand jacket to reveal the plain linen shirt beneath.

‘Why ?’

‘Why ? All those weapons lying around. Bound to be an accident o’ some sort.’

‘Why dress it yourself ? Why take his jacket off ?’

The tattooist’s eyes seem to shine now, each tiny vein of his iris edged in light. ‘Make him less obvious.’

In his dream Narin hears the words echo distantly as Enchei begins to fade into the dark shadows behind – all except his eyes, which remain bright and terrifying.

‘Why ?’

‘He’s been castrated,’ he hears Enchei say as his view begins to recede and he finds himself in front of the narrow, whitewashed house belonging to Enchei’s midwife friend. ‘You realise how that’s seen where he’s from ? He’ll be disgraced, for this and running up debts. Those were enforcers I’m sure, out to punish a man who couldn’t pay, given what they’ve done.’

‘You want to hide it,’ Narin says as the door opens and a wizened face peers and ushers them in, the darkness enveloping them all.

‘Might as well try, give the man a chance. Without that he’s done – most likely he’ll kill himself through shame and his family’ll forget he was ever one of ’em. I ain’t saying this’ll work ; you need to find his steward or manservant, hope they’re loyal and competent enough to keep the secret.

‘He’ll be the best friend you ever have,’ Enchei says from somewhere in the dark. ‘Forever thankful – and in this life that’s worth as much as gold.’

Narin woke with the dawn. Grainy, feeble light slipped through the angled slats of the window shutters along with a damp breath of wind. He scowled and rolled over to face the open doorway that led into the main room. A moment of panic gripped him, but then he heard the soft exhalation and relaxed again. The goshe was still there ; he hadn’t woken and fled in the night.

He eased himself up off the floor where he’d spent the night, barely sleeping, while his unconscious guest remained in the bed next door. A sharp ache behind his eyes blossomed as soon as he moved ; his limbs were sluggish and heavy with fatigue. Unsteady for a moment until he found his balance, Narin straightened and stretched his arms up to brush the whitewashed ceiling, slowly tilting to each side to work the stiffness from his back. He grimaced at the twinge in his right shoulder when his arm was fully extended and rolled it in slow circles to work the discomfort out. A nagging injury from the dachan court, his shoulder hadn’t enjoyed a night on the wooden floor.

Narin crossed to a small washstand and scrubbed away the greasy feeling on his face, blinking at the reflection in his small mirror as though not recognising himself. Once his brain had caught up, Narin wiped a cloth over his chest and armpits. The damp chill raised goosebumps over his skin until he turned away again, swinging his arms to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.

Opening the window shutters, Narin stared out across a city rendered ethereal and alien by the blanket of mist. The familiar lines of buildings and streets were broken up by a tattered curtain of white, the waters of the Crescent almost entirely obscured. The Imperial District was an island three miles across – nestled in the protective embrace of the mainland that extended around four-fifths of its shore – with the Crescent that band of water separating the two.

His eyes were inexorably drawn to the huge structure that dominated his view, one that even fog could rarely hide. The great arcs of the Tier Bridge rose high in the sky ; as white as ice and, to Narin’s eye, just as cold. The ornate grey towers of the temples on both banks looked tiny in comparison to the bridge’s oppressive bulk, curving slightly left as it stretched to the far bank in House Dragon’s district.

The bridge had no straight lines ; each tier was suspended from a twisting spray of white arches that rose from each corner and crossed diagonally to the opposite corner. Anchored to the cold forest of arching supports on each bank, ramshackle houses ran along the shore behind a bustling network of market stalls.

Against the haze of morning Narin could make out little of the white flags bearing the Emperor’s sun at the nearer end, but the black and red dragons on the far side remained visible. Out of deference to the Emperor’s divine blood there was one fewer of the dragons, but the largest was a banner forty feet long that ensured no one could forget where the power in the Empire lay.

He closed the shutters again and pulled on a clean set of grey trousers and jacket. Dressing quickly, Narin snatched up his stave from beside his bed, running fingers over the familiar smooth wood as he headed into the other room. The goshe lay on the bed in the same position he had been the previous day, his breathing faint against the sounds outside the quarters. Narin watched him a moment longer before turning to the door where Enchei had hung a slate the previous night. On it was a brief greeting and instructions that Mistress Sheti would be looking in on him occasionally during the day.

Most likely it wouldn’t stop the man leaving if he woke, but Sheti was right that an Investigator – of all people – couldn’t keep an injured man tied up in his assigned quarters. Politeness might surprise a street-fighter and make him think twice about escaping, Narin guessed, while a rope would be unlikely to stop him if he was determined.

‘So who is the moon ?’ Narin asked the goshe softly. ‘Is it you ? Someone you answer to ? Just what are you going to tell me when you wake up ?’

There was no response and Narin shrugged, pocketing the piece of paper they’d found in the goshe’s pockets the night before. He went to the stove on the other side of the room and opened the pantry cupboard. There was little left in there after Enchei’s efforts the previous night so Narin contented himself with taking a swallow of weak wine before finding a twig to scrub at his teeth.

With one last look at the goshe, he slipped his stave through a loop behind his shoulder and ran it through until the flattened end nestled in a small pocket at the bottom of his jacket. Outside, the air was muted and still, the sounds of a city waking to the day softened by the mist. He guessed it was an hour after dawn as he headed down to the compound’s high gate, greeting the other two Investigators also leaving.

‘Narin !’ the ebullient younger of the two called out. ‘A bad morning for the early shift, eh ?’

‘Morning, Diman !’ Narin said with a forced smile. ‘And you, Nesare. Not keen on finding a half-eaten body before lunch then ?’

Nesare snorted. He was a tall, willowy young man, but with an old head on his shoulders. ‘You’re as bad as Diman – worse, in fact, you’re a native. There’s shit-all chance any demon crawled out of the Crescent last night ; it’s rare enough in winter let alone spring.’

‘Demons are always hungry,’ Narin countered with a wink at Diman, ‘well-known fact that – and souls taste just as good in any weather, the blood keeps them warm.’

‘Pah, now you’re just winding him up,’ Nesare said. ‘Keep it up then. Try that crap on your Lawbringer and see how it helps your appointment !’

They headed out onto the near-deserted streets, turning away from the Tier Bridge until the Imperial Palace appeared above the houses to dominate the view. As the sonorous clang of bells at the temple of Smith announced the morning hour, soon echoed by a hundred other temple bells across the city, they reached the great paved expanse of Lawbringer Square and the pale walls of the Palace of Law.

Grey gulls circled above the square, dozens of them crying and wheeling as though fearful to land. The three Investigators slowed and halted, his two companions glancing nervously at Narin. Up ahead was a figure dressed all in white, hands behind his back as though standing to attention, with an ornate black pistol-sheath at his waist. He was quite still, untouched by the movement all around him and looking directly at them – a Lawbringer, emissary of the Emperor himself and living embodiment of Imperial law.

Held cross-wise behind the Lawbringer’s back was a white ash stave similar to those the Investigators carried. Few Lawbringers carried such a weapon and none could wield it so well as this one, but Narin still found himself resenting the sight of it. The majority wore swords ; elegant and deadly weapons that were the symbol of their authority as much as a tool for punishment. But even here, in this place of justice and equality, some were above the rest.

Do you even know you do it ?
Narin wondered.
You don’t deign to carry the sword of a Lawbringer ; do you know how the rest of us see that ? We just see the guns – always the guns and the reminder you’re above us all. Lawbringer you’ve become, noble caste you’ve always been.

A gust of wind brought a few drops of rain pattering down over them and that proved enough to stir the three into action once more. The other two Investigators bowed and made to leave, but Narin caught the arm of one and held him back. The young man frowned but made no complaint as Narin also bowed and at last the man in white spoke.

‘Good morning, Investigator. You have business with Investigator Diman ?’

Narin glanced at the man he’d held back. ‘I do, Lawbringer – a moment only, if I may ?’

Lawbringer Rhe inclined his head and adopted a statue-still pose of a man prepared to wait all day – so motionless he could have been one of the statues of their patron God, Lord Lawbringer, which looked down from all sides of the square. No wasted movement or instinctive questions – the man’s ability to hold a position and fade into the background had always unnerved Narin. For once, however, he was thankful for his superior’s unnaturally calm nature.

Narin had to remind himself that all of the Gods had once been mortal men and women. In the earliest days of the Empire a king and queen had found the secret to immortality and ascended into the heavens. Exactly how they did so remained the greatest mystery the Empire had to offer, but their closest cadre of advisers had joined them in the years to follow. Over the next centuries that passed others had also been granted their own divine constellations by the Gods, after achieving enlightenment through the perfection of some art or skill. Unflappable and a man of unswerving purpose, Rhe was considered by many novices and Investigators to be halfway to the stars.

‘Diman,’ Narin muttered quickly, ‘you’re stationed within the Palace still ?’

The younger man nodded. ‘Another moon still, why ?’ He was five years younger than Narin and still in training, so he spent half of the year on administrative duties.

‘Have you heard any strange stories about the goshe in the last few days ?’

‘Goshe ? I, ah, no – not that I recall.’

Narin nodded. ‘If you do, could you tell me ? I don’t have anything more than that for you – only a rumour I don’t want to share before I’ve got some sort of evidence.’

‘Share ? At all ?’ Diman couldn’t help but look up at the motionless Lawbringer a few yards away.

‘With anyone but him,’ Narin said with a reassuring smile. ‘I wanted to catch you before getting into the explanation.’

The look of relief on Diman’s face was clear. Like most Investigators, his awe of Rhe bordered on reverence. None would dare incur the wrath of a man who had once fought his way into a warrior compound in Dragon district in pursuit of a noble murderer – disarming seven soldiers ordered to attack him before calmly shooting the criminal between the eyes as the man levelled a musket.

‘Goshe. Right.’

With another bow to Lawbringer Rhe, Diman hurried away across the square to the jutting portico of the Palace of Law, leaving the two men facing each other.

‘The younger Investigators still see me as some sort of hero then ?’

Narin coughed in surprise. ‘Ah, yes, Lawbringer. They all do, pretty much.’

‘I had hoped that would fade,’ Rhe said.

There was no expression on his face, just a detached calm that others saw as a cold aristocrat’s indifference. Ever the investigator, Rhe viewed the entire world with a sober, analytical mind – never letting emotion cloud his conclusions.