The Song of the Sycamore, page 21
‘Is that so bad?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Don’t be naive,’ Mutley snapped. ‘This is Reaper Town, Wendal. My enemies and competitors know I’m in a weak position and they’re circling like … skarabs waiting to pick a battlefield clean of carrion. Because of your friend. Because of Dyonne Obor.’ But she looked at me as if it were my fault.
I grabbed the wine and took a big gulp. ‘So what do you need me for?’
Mutley chuckled bitterly. ‘I like to cover my back, Wendal. I find it good business to know who I’m getting into bed with.’ She drained her glass of wine and lit another cheroot, her manner returning to that of a calculating monster. ‘Dyonne fancies herself a big-time player. Some say she’s good enough to be a Grand Adept, but in my opinion, she’s not clever enough for that. I don’t give a fuck who her masters are, she’s an idiot if she thinks she can leave someone like me in the shit and just walk away. I found out some interesting things about one of the people who works for her, you see. So I thought I’d invite him here before Dyonne got the chance to send him.’
I kept my mouth shut.
‘Remember our old friend – Jon Johnny? I tried talking to him once. He told me something strange. I paid it no mind until later, but he said, “Sycamore is coming.”’
I chewed on silent words, shaking my head.
‘Oh, don’t bother trying to deny it,’ Mutley said. ‘Nel confirmed who you are.’ She laid her hand on the ether-cannon. ‘They say on the streets that Sycamore is a Judge of Aktuaht come to condemn us all, but this storm above us is frightening people into saying all kinds of shit, and I’m not so easily taken in.
‘Sycamore is the best assassin Old Castle has to offer, and he works for the Magicians. No one sees him coming, no one sees him leave, and he’s almost impossible to track down.’ She grinned. ‘Fortunately, I’m acquainted with Sycamore’s best friend.’
‘It’s not what you think.’ My voice trembled. ‘It isn’t like that.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Mutley nodded towards the bar. I could see Nel through the cluster of gamblers, quiet and downcast between the cronies. ‘If you want to keep your friend alive, then it’ll be exactly as I tell you it is.’
How did I explain to this woman that through rumours and misinformation she had stumbled into something she couldn’t possibly understand?
‘This is how Dyonne and the Salem pay me back, Wendal. By loaning me your services.’
‘Listen to me, Mutley. You think you know Dyonne, but you don’t. You have no idea what you’re dealing with—’
‘Shut up.’ Mutley was aiming the ether-cannon at me now. She didn’t know that it couldn’t kill me. ‘Here’s what happens next. You’ll go home and wait for Nel to show us where you live. You’ll be given a list of names. Each name will belong to one of the scumbags who are already looking to make a move on my patch.’ Her face became cruel. ‘Some of them are in this room right now, and I want them dead.’
‘Mutley, you don’t understand—’
‘The storm is making people crazy, reckless, so don’t test me. If you fulfil this contract, then I’ll leave Nel be, and good luck to the pair of you. If not, then I’ll put this cannon to Nel’s head and pull the trigger. Do we have an understanding, Sycamore?’
I felt sweat beading on my forehead. I nodded – what else could I do? – and drained the glass of wine.
‘Dyonne Obor must feel so secure having you around taking care of her enemies.’ Mutley scoffed and gestured to her henchman to take me away. ‘You have two days or Nel dies.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
I tried something that I’d never dared try before. I dug down deep inside myself and begged Sycamore to take over my body. I pleaded for him to rise, to control me as he so often had, and take this predicament off my hands. I’m out of options, I thought to him, I don’t know what to do. But the spells that kept him imprisoned were too potent. Sycamore remained silent. He didn’t stir in the slightest, and wouldn’t unless a ghoul told him its name. I was on my own with only one place left to turn.
I was going to come clean.
I had to tell Dyonne everything, for Nel’s sake. Mutley had drawn herself to the wrong conclusion. She thought I was a straightforward assassin, a blade in the dark for hire. She had misunderstood the true nature of what we were, and that would be her undoing. Sycamore went beyond Dyonne’s rank, to the Salem itself. And if the Salem’s intervention saved Nel at the cost of Mutley’s life, then so be it. I’d gladly sacrifice that criminal for my friend.
I went to the unnamed tavern directly from the Sharpened Card. No one answered when I banged on the door. My urgency boiled over and I thumped and kicked, calling Dyonne’s name. But the only reward for my efforts was strange looks a few citizens who soon forgot me after they passed by. I considered sitting outside the door and waiting for Dyonne to show – or some other Magician who could get a message to her – but my frustration wouldn’t let me keep still, so I decided to pace the short length of my lodgings instead. Dyonne expected me to be there, anyway.
Two days, Mutley had given me. Would Old Castle survive the storm for that long? I felt as though Urdezha itself was coming to an end.
Itch woke up as soon as I walked through the door. Gaunt, mummified face peering over her knees, angry orange in her eyes, she demanded to know when I would kill her murderer. ‘I don’t fucking know!’ I shouted at her, to my regret. Itch’s wails pierced my eardrums and her tears popped with the stench of the wasteland. I ordered her back to sleep. She disappeared but the stench remained.
Pacing, containing frustration and panic behind clenched teeth and fists, I kept glancing out of the window, hoping against hope that I might see Nel bringing me Mutley’s list of names. She was a wily character; she would play along just to get away, and then … I’d hide with her in the fucking sewers if it meant keeping her safe. I didn’t catch sight of my friend, but, when I glanced out of the window for the umpteenth time, I was shocked to see Abdon Klyne. His ghost stood in the lane, beckoning me down.
‘I would’ve come up,’ he said when I rushed out to join him, ‘but … are you keeping a ghoul in your lodgings?’
The predawn hours were cold beneath the storm, but Klyne’s breath didn’t mist the air as mine did.
‘What do you want?’ I said, shivering, pulling my jacket around me.
‘I suppose I came to say goodbye. I’m leaving Old Castle, Wendal. Reckon it’s time I saw the wasteland again.’
‘You came to say goodbye?’ Klyne looked shaken, scared – not traits commonly seen in ghosts. It disturbed me. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I met with Meredith last night. We didn’t speak long. She wants me to give you a message. She said, if you go outside the city and follow the coast away from the fishing settlement, you’ll come to the ruins you played in as a kid.’
Surprise dislodged an old and forgotten memory from my mind. ‘The ruins? Yes, I remember them.’
‘Well, Meredith wants you to know that the dead are singing their Song for you there, whatever the fuck that means.’
My heart skipped. She had to be talking about Ghan Hathor. ‘Did she mention a name?’
‘No. Whatever the two of you are up to, you’ve dragged me into it now. I can’t go back to my library because the fucking Magicians are looking for me.’ Klyne rubbed his forehead. ‘We’re all in trouble, Wendal. We’ve all been delving into dangerous things, and that’s why I’m leaving Old Castle. Tonight. For good.’
Klyne held up a hand for silence as a couple of citizens walked past the end of the side lane, laughing; and when they didn’t head our way, he gave a sigh of relief. A spirit scared and paranoid? I knew how he felt. I thought of Nel, I thought of Eden … I thought of rushing to the coast right now and finding Ghan Hathor.
Klyne gave a bitter laugh. ‘I used to think that being dead meant I couldn’t die a second time. I was wrong.’ He sounded angry. ‘I know a little more about what the Scientists have got their hands on.’
‘Black stone.’ The words tumbled from my lips immediately, pouncing on the subject.
‘I suppose I should count myself lucky that I found out what I did,’ Klyne said. ‘They’re saying black stone is old knowledge, Wendal – ancient, something the Gardeners left behind.’
‘Wait – it’s a relic of the Salahbeem?’
‘And as rare as fuck, worth a thousand survivalists’ weight in ether. I can’t remember anything of the Gardeners’ being discovered on the wasteland during my lifetime. And this thing – it’s powered by the spirits of the dead.’
I couldn’t really explain why, but I was feeling more and more disturbed, colder and colder as if the temperature had suddenly dropped lower than it already was.
Klyne was still keeping a nervous eye out for anyone watching us. ‘See, I was wrong, Wendal. No one’s trying to stop the dead leaving Old Castle. Black stone is … eating them, using spirits as fuel, and the Scientists can’t stop it. So I’m escaping this city before it eats me, too.’
‘That’s …’ I didn’t know what I thought it was. ‘What is black stone?’
‘The best guess I’ve heard is that it’s some kind of transportation device, like an ancient gateway that’s capable of reaching … anywhere, I suppose.’
‘A gateway?’ I asked. ‘There hasn’t been gateway on Urdezha since—’
‘I’m not an idiot, Wendal. I know the stories and I know the wasteland. Just because the technology hasn’t been around for millennia doesn’t mean it’s not still there, hiding beneath the world, waiting to be found.’ Klyne levelled his look. ‘Whatever this thing is, the Magicians are terrified of it. They seem to think that all these experiments the Scientists are running are in aid of finding a way to reach the Salahbeem themselves.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ Klyne looked at me as though both our existences were well past the point of ridiculous now. ‘I’ve been eavesdropping on all sorts of secret conversations between some pretty important people. Maybe the rumours are true. Maybe the Scientists succeeded.’ He pointed up at the storm. ‘What if this is the Salahbeem’s way of telling us to fuck off?’
I followed the direction of his finger. I felt a sudden and unnerving connection with the storm, like each flash of lightning was calling to me, and I wanted to rise and meet the roiling, fiery darkness … or drag it down.
‘One thing’s for sure,’ Klyne continued, ‘the Quantum and the Salem have been fighting over black stone and the situation is coming to a head.’
Klyne cast a nervous glance up and down the lane. ‘I heard the problems began when the Scientists tried to test the gateway – short range, city to city. See, black stone is broken down into three components. The first was brought here to Old Castle. The second was in Alexria, Wendal.’
‘Alexria?’ My jaw hung slack for a moment. ‘Shit.’
‘Now you see where this is going.’ Klyne stepped closer to me, looming. ‘I heard some high-ranking Scientists talking. They said a train of ether-wagons brought a group of war survivors to Old Castle yesterday. They were supposed to return to Alexria, but when they got there, it was gone. Just a giant smoking crater where it used to be. A whole city destroyed, people and all. That’s what happens when an ether-growth blows up.’
‘Black stone destroyed Alexria?’ I pointed upwards. ‘Did this?’
Klyne nodded and sucked cold air over his teeth. ‘Whether this thing is a gateway or not, the Scientists can’t switch it off. After Alexria went up, black stone dragged the storm to Old Castle. The component that’s here just keeps on eating the dead, and if it can’t be stopped then it’ll drag that fucking mess up there down through the shield. You should prepare for the worst, Wendal. The Scientists can’t protect this city for ever.’
An icy breeze blew down the lane and I wrapped my arms around me, thinking of my strange waking dream, seeing the horde of ghosts sucked up into a void of darkness. How close did Old Castle stand to Alexria’s fate? How much time was left? A relic of the Salahbeem. A gateway? It touched a nerve in me. ‘You said there were three parts to black stone. Where’s the third?’
‘Missing,’ Klyne said. ‘It’s reckoned to be in Old Castle somewhere and to be the only thing that can stop the storm ripping the city apart. Some are saying the Salem has it but they’re hiding it from the Quantum. After Alexria, I’d change my tune if I were them, but … if you ask me, Wendal, this missing part is what Eden was looking for at the university. But she wasn’t the person who found it.
‘There is a record of black stone being discovered. I had to dig deep, read between the lines a bit, but it’s definitely there. A survivalist found it on the wasteland somewhere around four months ago. She took it to Alexria, but she wasn’t there when the city went up in smoke. See, the Scientists wouldn’t pay out on a very lucrative finder’s fee because the artefact in question was incomplete. The survivalist said she knew where the missing part was and came to Old Castle to find it. But when she arrived, she was murdered.’
‘Murdered?’
‘By the Magicians, I reckon.’ Klyne’s old and beaten face creased with lines of worry, probably because the fate of his fellow survivalist had reminded him what dying was like, and now black stone threatened to give him a second go. ‘Strange thing, though. The report said the artefact was found in a graveforest. Never heard of that before.’
‘A graveforest?’ I baulked and stepped back from Klyne, ice in my gut. ‘Did the report tell you her name?’ I demanded. ‘The survivalist?’
Klyne nodded. ‘August Jakob.’
I felt like vomiting. ‘Say that again.’
But Klyne’s attention was caught by something behind me. ‘Do you know him?’
At the end of the lane, the bulky form of Tamara had appeared. Standing in shadows, he could obviously see me but not the spirit. His presence should have given me a surge of hope. I hadn’t forgotten Nel, but this conversation had just become as disturbing as the threat of the storm above. I hadn’t felt this frightened since the war.
‘I have to go, but …’ I was about to tell Klyne that it was imperative we talked again before he left Old Castle, but he had already fled. His ghost simply wasn’t there any more.
With a curt gesture, Tamara ordered me out of the lane before turning and walking away. I stared at the space Abdon Klyne had filled a moment earlier before following the bodyguard, the tugs of Dyonne’s leash pulling at my neck.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘You were told to stay out of the way!’ Dyonne was fuming with a barely controlled fury that I’d never seen in her before. ‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’ Her hand shook as she pointed a finger at me.
I swallowed. The air practically crackled with the power of Dyonne’s magic. How much did she know?
‘You couldn’t control yourself, could you?’ she raged. ‘Just when I solve one of your problems, you give me another!’
Few candles had been lit in the nameless tavern. Tamara waited in the shadows somewhere behind me. In the dim glow, Dyonne paced up and down before facing me with her hands on her hips.
‘What do you have to say for yourself, Wendal?’
I had nothing. I wasn’t even looking at Dyonne. My eyes were for the dead body on the floor behind her. Ing Meredith lay on her back, her arms crossed over her chest. She had no visible wounds and her bloodless face expressed peace in death. How much did Dyonne know?
‘Oh, you feel sorry for her?’ Dyonne said, following my stare.
Unconscious good sense shook my head for me. I didn’t know what to feel. Ghan Hathor was no longer the only name on my mind; Abdon Klyne had seen to that.
Coincidence either happens or it doesn’t, Eden used to tell me, because it could only be judged when all the facts were at hand. August Jakob: I’d met her. I knew what she had discovered on the wasteland. I knew what black stone was. Because … I was with her when she found it.
‘Well?’ Dyonne demanded.
‘I don’t know,’ I blurted. ‘I … I don’t know what to say.’
‘Begin by telling me what occurred in Reaper Town,’ Dyonne growled. ‘You were seen at the Sharpened Card last night, having a cosy chat with a lowlife called Mutley.’
‘I didn’t have a choice. I was going to tell you—’
‘I am not pleased, Wendal!’
‘Dyonne, listen to me.’ If I was scared before, it was nothing compared to when I saw Dyonne’s pupils dilate. The pressure of magic grew in the room. She was on the cusp of summoning my moment of death, I was sure of it, so I spoke quickly. ‘Mutley thinks Sycamore is an assassin for hire. She’s blackmailing me into killing her competitors. She says that you owe her my service for backing out of a business agreement.’
‘My business is none of your concern.’ Dyonne drew herself up, seemed to expand. ‘And you have no excuses. You should not have gone to Reaper Town.’
‘I had to,’ I stressed. ‘Mutley is holding my friend hostage.’
‘Ah, yes – Janelle Memphis.’
I didn’t like the way Dyonne said Nel’s name. I became suddenly aware of a presence in the room, something dark, on the outskirts, being held back. It made Sycamore stir in the deepest regions of my being.
‘I thought that having a friend would be good for you, Wendal, but I see now that allowing Memphis into your life was a mistake.’ Dyonne drew a breath, exhaled with a sound like resignation. She moved to one side, giving me a clearer view of Meredith’s dead and peaceful body. ‘Your friend has become a liability, and Mutley’s final stain needs removing.’
