Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked (38 page)

It was pretty much the only thing.

Vengeous hadn’t wasted any time with questions. He assumed she was part of this Resistance everyone kept talking about, and was probably looking forward to a nice bit of interrogation once they got back to the Palace. Valkyrie wondered if this version of Vengeous had been arrested by Skulduggery during that legendary fight China had once spoken of, or if none of that had happened here. If Mevolent, and now Vengeous, was alive here, then who else was? Was Nefarian Serpine waiting for them beyond the wall? And where was this reality’s version of Skulduggery? Would he be much different to the Skulduggery she knew?

The idea that there could be two identical versions of Skulduggery Pleasant actually made her smile despite herself. The conversations that would result would probably be brain-punchingly narcissistic, at the very least.

The pitch of the Barge’s engines changed. Deprived of a view, Valkyrie had no idea what was happening until the whole thing shook and clanked and shuddered, and then the engines slowly grew quiet.

They had arrived.

The door to her cell opened and a Redhood came in, yanked her to her feet. He brought her to the open belly of the Barge, to Vengeous, who ignored her while he oversaw the transfer of the mortal prisoners. Finally, he turned, dismissed the Redhood and walked down the steps. He turned when he was halfway down, looked back at her, his eyes glowing yellow. Valkyrie started down after him and his eyes returned to normal, and he led her out from under the Barge’s shadow into the City.

The Dublin inside the wall was a vast oasis of luxury. The streets were wide and well ordered, bisecting buildings adorned with gargoyles as fierce as they were extravagant. Towers rose towards the sun and lush trees lined the pavements. At every corner there was a stone balcony, and on those balconies stood Elementals, conducting a stream of air over the privileged heads of the people. Carriages without wheels or horses or engines rose up from the ground to join this stream and were smoothly snatched away and carried from sight. There were a few rickshaws on the streets for those whose journeys deviated from the main routes, but there were no cars. The drivers of the carriages were all young sorcerers, probably Elementals, still learning their craft. The drivers of the rickshaws were brown-clothed mortals who kept their heads lowered. Valkyrie shouldn’t have been surprised. What was the point of being the elite in society if you couldn’t look down on those beneath you?

There were other mortals on the streets. They walked quickly, slinking in and out of alleyways so that they wouldn’t offend the eyes of the magical. Servants and workers and slaves. Their social betters walked without hurry and wore clothes so fine they actually looked
delicate
, like a stray bit of dirt would tear a hole right through them. She didn’t know what fashion they wore, with the high collars and pointy shoes and everything so bright and colourful and vibrant, but she could tell that a girl in brown being led among them was not a welcome sight. The shackles didn’t help, she supposed, nor the fact that Vengeous was beside her.

People glared and sniffed as she passed. These people were sorcerers? These primped and pampered idiots? Most of the sorcerers she knew were battle-hardened and tough, used to sticking to the shadows and not drawing attention to themselves. The sorcerers of this reality were an altogether different breed.

“You’ve never been here before,” Vengeous said. “You have that look in your eye that people get when they see the City for the first time. Take a good look. Drink in the sights. The dungeon has no such splendour on view. Your days will be spent in agony and your nights will be spent shivering and weeping and waiting for the pain to begin again.”

“Yeah...” Valkyrie said, and shrugged. “Ah, I’m more of a morning person anyway.”

He looked at her as they walked. She pretended she didn’t notice. “The Sense-Wardens don’t want to enter your mind, do you know that? The ones who tried have not yet recovered. They say you have something living inside you. A guardian. A protector. Is this true?”

“Yeah,” she said, deciding it best to leave out the fact that her head was now a very lonely place.

“Do not look so pleased,” said Vengeous. “Having a psychic prod his way through your thoughts may not be a pleasant experience, but luckily for us we still have physical torture. So do yourself a kindness. Before the interrogation begins, tell us what you did with the Teleporter, and maybe your suffering will be lessened.”

She frowned. “Who? Oh, you mean that Remit guy with the twirly moustache? Yeah, I did nothing to him. I left him on a rooftop somewhere.”

“Who has him?”

“Not me. Maybe he ran away. Maybe he wasn’t happy. He did have a silly moustache, after all. That’s usually a sign of some deeper unhappiness. Where’s your moustache, by the way? Where’s your whole beard gone? Why’d you shave it off?”

“Ah,” he murmured. “You’re one of those, are you?”

“One of who?”

“The kind who talk and joke when they’re shackled. I’ve met a few of you. Your jokes are usually there to hide your fear, and it’s always a good indicator that you will break easily, and quickly.”

“Or,” she said, “it might be a sign that I’m totally fearless and I laugh in the face of torture. I mean, it’s not, but it could be.”

He led her away from the main thoroughfare, to where the streets were slightly narrower. Still clean, still well-maintained, but a little less sunny and a lot less populated.

Valkyrie looked at him. “Can I ask you a question? I know this isn’t how interrogations usually go, but since it hasn’t officially started yet I thought I’d shake things up. What happened to
you
, Baron? I mean, is this what you do now? You transport prisoners? You used to be a general.”

“I still am.”

“No, you’re a prison guard.”

“I do what is needed. In times of war, it is a general’s duty to win that war. In times of peace, it is a general’s duty to preserve that peace.”

“You call this peace? The people are terrified.”

“Are you referring to the mortals? Of course they’re terrified. Terror keeps them down. A terrified people is a peaceful people.”

“Peace means nothing without freedom.”

“Then peace means nothing. I’m sorry, were you hoping for a debate on the subject? You’re a prisoner, and soon you’ll be a prisoner in pain. We’re not going to debate, or argue. You’re no one. You’re just another mortal sympathiser. Soon enough all your secrets will come spilling out.”

They passed through a tunnel that blocked out the sunlight. A bald woman approached from the other side, her hands shackled. “Husband,” she said, and Vengeous muttered something under his breath. Valkyrie raised an eyebrow as the woman neared. Vengeous’s wife wore a grey shapeless dress made of sackcloth and her bare feet were chained at the ankles, forcing her to take small, quick steps. There was a small piece of wood hanging from a cord around her neck, into which were carved the two circles. With her hair shaved off and not one trace of make-up on her pale, drawn face, it took Valkyrie a moment to recognise her as Eliza Scorn.

“They were at it again last night,” she said, not even glancing at Valkyrie. “Graffiti on the cathedral door. Scrawled obscenities and crude pictures. They need to be stopped.
You
have to stop them.”

Her voice rose as she spoke, became shriller, echoing around the tunnel. Vengeous held up his hands in a comforting gesture, but stopped just short of touching her.

“I’ve alerted the City Mages,” he said. “They’re increasing their patrols in the area. Now please, I’m with a prisoner and cannot—”

Scorn shook her head. “Not good enough. These blasphemers need to be hunted down. You need to send your Diablerie after them.”

“My love, the Diablerie have their duties—”

Fury twisted Scorn’s face.
“Someone is defiling the cathedral!”
she screeched.
“When they defile the cathedral, they defile us all! Are you going to do nothing while your own wife is defiled?”

For some bizarre reason, Valkyrie felt the need to look away to spare Vengeous the embarrassment of arguing with his clearly insane wife in front of a prisoner. Then she remembered that she
was
a prisoner, and so any awkwardness fell away.

“No one is defiling you,” Vengeous said, keeping his voice down. “These are troublemakers and miscreants and they will be caught and punished.”

“Miscreants?” Scorn repeated incredulously. “These are terrorists! They are openly blaspheming against the Faceless Ones and if you don’t put a stop to it, this will spread. Do you hear me? It will spread.”

Vengeous nodded. “I’ll triple the guard.”

“You need to hunt them down!”

“And I will do so. They will not escape our justice.”

Scorn’s hands rose to the wood around her neck. “You should question those in the dungeons. They know. They know who’s doing this. That girl. Who is she?”

“We don’t know yet. She’s working with the Resistance.”

Scorn whispered, but even so Valkyrie could still hear her words. “Question her. Pull her fingernails off. Cut out her eyelids. She knows who is doing this.”

“Hi, Eliza,” Valkyrie said.

Scorn stiffened, turned away, and Vengeous glared.

“Do not speak to my wife,” he snarled.

Valkyrie ignored him. “Why the shackles, Eliza? Have you lost it so completely that you can’t be trusted?”

Vengeous stormed over and Valkyrie forced herself not to flinch. “My wife wears those chains in penance for us all, to show the Faceless Ones that we are ready to be punished for what was done to them. She is a true believer. Her soul is righteous and pure, unlike yours.”

“Diseased,” Scorn muttered.

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Diseased!” Scorn shouted, her eyes on the cobbled ground. “Your soul is diseased! Rotten! Putrefying!”

“That’s a nice sack you’re wearing.”

“Stop her from talking to me!”

Vengeous shoved Valkyrie against the wall, his hand tight around her windpipe.

Scorn covered her face with her arms. “Stop her from looking at me! Stop her!”

Strong fingers dug into Valkyrie’s cheek and pushed her head around until she was facing the other way. She heard Scorn’s quick footsteps and the clinking of chains as she neared.

“Hurt her,” Scorn said, fury biting at her words. “Kill her. Tear her face off. Rip her tongue out. Take her eyes.”

“Mevolent wants to speak with her,” Vengeous said.

“He can speak with her
corpse
. He can speak with her
carcass
. He can speak with her rotting
meat
, when her head is on a
pike
. He can speak with her
then
.”

“He is waiting, my wife.”

“Let him wait! This wretch of a girl gazed upon my face! She spoke to me, spiteful words! The Faceless Ones demand her suffering!”

“If that is so, then Mevolent will surely instruct me. Is he not the voice of the Faceless Ones on this earth?”

All Valkyrie could hear in response was Scorn’s rapid breathing.

“Go back to your prayers,” Vengeous said. “When I have delivered this wretch to Mevolent, I will return to you with the Commander of the City Mages. Together we will instruct him on how to police the cathedral.”

“They’re terrorists,” Scorn said, her voice no more than a murmur.

“Yes, they are, and they will be hunted as such. Go. Pray. I will be with you shortly.”

There was a moment of silence, and then chains clinked, and Valkyrie heard Eliza walk away. Seconds later, Vengeous leaned into her.

“I should crush your throat right now,” he said.

Valkyrie started to say,
You make a lovely couple
, but she only got halfway through before Vengeous lifted her off her feet. Her legs kicked and she pawed at the hand around her neck.

“I don’t know how much you know about me,” he said calmly, “but I do not enjoy trading barbed witticisms. Such things are a waste of my time. If you even attempt to make a joke in my presence, I will break a finger. Understood?”

Spittle flew from Valkyrie’s lips, and Vengeous released her. She dropped to her knees, gasping for breath.

“Very good,” said Vengeous. “Come now. Mevolent awaits.”

The Palace was a marvel of stone and steel and glass and glinted so brightly in the sun that it was actually painful to look at. Its steeples and spires rose like thin blades to pierce the sky. This was what Valkyrie had seen from the other side of the wall, this Palace with its towers so high you could probably look out over the whole of Ireland from up there. Probably.

A dozen men stood at the doors. Their left arms were armoured, their right arms bound in straps of leather. They wore heavy uniforms adorned with the three towers of Dublin, and each had a sword slung from a scabbard on their left hip, and a holstered gun on their right. City Mages, she guessed.

The corridor beyond the doors was ridiculously wide. In the centre of it was a large tank filled with a pale green liquid. In that tank, the naked corpse of Mr Bliss floated, a chain around his ankle stopping him from simply rising to the top.

“Mevolent likes to parade his vanquished enemies,” said Vengeous as they passed.

Valkyrie pulled her eyes away, feeling hollow. The outside of the Palace may have been guarded by the City Mages, but the inside was the domain of the Redhoods. They stood like statues, scythes gripped in one hand, and she felt how her brown coat rubbed against her skin and how vulnerable it was. It would part as easily as her flesh to those scythes.

They entered into a large room. On the far side was a small pool of black liquid from which steam rose, seemingly responsible for the foul smell that hung in the air. Beside the pool there was a man on his knees, surrounded by six Redhoods armed with long spears. He was slender, with narrow shoulders, and his hair was cut short. His skin was tinged yellow, like a nicotine stain that had covered his whole body. His head was down. She couldn’t see his face.

“That’s Mevolent?” she asked, whispering.