A Lady in Crystal Page 5

  The cardinals and bishops,who played the courtly games so close to the holy ground where Niskaan slept his final sleep, all too often overreached themselves.

  “Soft and greedy,” Gilash muttered to himself, as he looked out from his window to the spires of the inner courts. They were practised political monsters but none of them had been raised in the unseen corners of the Asylum. Gilash’s mother had been sister to the Primate of Asemutt and his advancement should have been assured.

  The cardinals and patriarchs might go to great lengths to ensure that their family saw advancement but Nijar of Asemutt had not been so corrupt. He saw the truth that the servants of Niskaan, who had once overthrown the city’s aristocrats, were slowly becoming what they had destroyed. The Primate of Asemutt had waited twelve years before he rescued his nephew from the torture of living with his sister and her insane husband. Gilash did not resent his uncle for what he had done, it had made him strong, not soft and grafting like the figureheads who lived in their palaces and handed down decrees to others, forgetting everything but their own interests.

  It was not his uncle’s fault that his mother had insisted on living with his raving father as an act of piety. She’d called him blessed and every time they went hungry because he had lost what coin they could scrape together or used the food to placate the daemons he said lived beneath the floors, Gilash’s mother would indulge him, calling him Niskaan’s voice. When Gilash was finally removed from his parents' care, his uncle explained how foolish such unreasoning false piety was. It was something to be encouraged in others but never indulged in oneself. Gilash’s mother had ended up just as deluded as his father. She hadn’t even stopped his father when the daemons that whispered to him night and day decided that they needed a human sacrifice. Only Gilash’s intuition that he was in danger had saved him from his father’s madness and his mother’s zealotry and it was this capacity to survive which had made his uncle realise that he might be useful.

  It was a simple equation which the lords of Niskaan's church seemed to have forgotten. If something was useful it should not be wasted, if it were no longer useful, it must be eliminated. Cardinal Lothar would have lived much longer, if he had just realised that it was more important to keep his word to the Order of Asemutt, than to favour a cousin. Gilash paused in his reflection, it was very tempting to indulge in his thoughts and memories when he was alone in his chambers. Outside he was forced to hide what he felt, even from himself. He smiled, he had become good at that; so good that his uncle had not even felt his intent, until the knife was at his throat. He wondered if Akna had been so successful.

  The boy had been strong but a full cycle had passed since he had left. No news was yet forthcoming about the cardinal’s well being, the cardinal had missed the services for that day but Ventur should be in more chaos if one of their most powerful members were dead. Given the timing, Gilash’s hope for the success of the assassination was fading. His new hope was that Akna was dead. It saddened him on some level to think that he had lost such a useful tool but he knew that if the boy had been caught, it would be best for everyone if he couldn’t reveal who had sent him. Akna would have understood this, it was what he had been taught but it was possible that Akna was not dead yet. If he were dead and the attempt had been thwarted why would Lothar have missed services for a whole cycle? He could be wounded but unless the wound was mortal, it boiled down to the same thing. Either the cardinal was dead or he was waiting for someone to show their hand and if they did, he would spring up with Akna as his witness. Gilash did not underestimate Anka, he simply knew that no one could hold out against torture indefinitely.

  A knock on the door abruptly ended the indulgence in speculation. “What is it?” the primate asked peevishly.

  “The boy, sir, he’s back.”

  More wheels spun in Gilash’s head but this time his worries were kept way below the surface of his thoughts. His tone sounded almost conversational to the brother on the other side of his study door.

  “Was he followed?”

  “Not that we could tell. We kept him outside the compound just in case.”

  “But somewhere out of the way?”

  “He’s in one of the safe rooms.”

  Over time people forgot where corridors had once run and where rooms had once been. In a structure as labyrinthine as the Asylum, it was possible to seal off a few nooks, useful nooks. Gilash smiled, at least they had used their heads. He could think of a few more questions that the novice might be able to answer but there seemed little point when he could simply go and see Akna for himself. If Lothar was hoping to catch them together and thus prove his duplicity, he would be disappointed. Assemut kept its safe rooms secret and there was more than one way to leave. There would be little danger in getting details first hand and it would be far more practical. He drew on his dark robes quickly and swept out of his offices like some giant version of the pearly-eyed bats that hunted above the roof tops of the City of Night.

  Akna did not respond when his master entered the room. His eyes were open but it was clear to everyone that he was not really registering anything that happened around him. He was completely drained in mind, body and spirit. The drive that had allowed him to escape Lothar’s dungeons had faded when he had found his way home, now his whole system had collapsed. Gilash cast his eyes over Akna, it was the same boy he had sent to kill Lothar, his whip like body was chorded with lean, well trained muscle, he had the same high cheek bones, the same dark hair and eyes. There was no doubting that the body was Akna’s but to someone as sensitive as Gilash, the true extent of the damage was clear. Akna’s face was slack and though it still held some of the vitality of youth, it could no longer be mistaken for a boy’s. As a child Gilash had known a beggar with a gangrenous limb, when he’d been too afraid to go home to his father he’d helped the beggar to collect coins from passing pilgrims, that was until the rot had got so bad that neither Gilash or the pilgrims would go anywhere near the alley way where the beggar sat. It was debatable whether it was hunger or rot that eventually ended the beggar but to Gilash’s physic senses, the damage that Akna’s soul bore was very similar to the putrid weeping flesh that had driven so many away from the alley for weeks after he’d gone. The novices had removed the foul clothes, correctly assessing that their stench would offend their master, yet he pulled back unable to stomach a far more subtle miasma, the rotted shell that had once been his favoured son. Gilash could see the scars and burns on Akna’s legs and the soles of his feet. Every muscle on the young man’s body shivered with exhaustion, it was a miracle that he had managed to walk into the compound. The physical damage was clear to anyone at a glance but this was only the outward show, the body would recover but that was the least of the damage.

  It was so unlikely that Akna could have failed his mission and yet survived to return, that the Primate couldn’t decide whether the Cardinal had let the boy go or whether he had genuinely escaped. What was certain was that anything useful had been taken from his mind before he had returned. That was the real damage, the boy was hollow. For Gilash and his kind, most people radiated fear and hope like a smell, even the most disciplined people found it difficult to hide the energies put out by an active mind. Akna gave hardly any sign of being alive at all, indeed given his state, he might never return to reality again, he simply shuddered and moaned his whole body curled around his clenched fists. Lothar had left him so torn that he might as well be little more than a phantom. If he ever did return to functional consciousness, Gilash’s most promising student was unlikely to be human.

  “Akna?” it was futile to try to communicate but he had to try if he could get any hint about what had happened, how much Lothar knew and what he might be planning to do about it.

  “Akna?” Still no response. He wondered if he should try reaching out to the boy’s mind but quickly rejected the idea. There was no telling what he might encounter, perhaps it was even some trap of Lothar’s. Gilash leaned closer and put a hand on Akna
’s shoulder. The skin was warm and slick with sweat despite the water that the novices had doused him with. There was also still some of the smell of the pipes on him and Gilash’s nose wrinkled at the partially masked stench.

  “Akna, my son, please, you must try to tell me what happened; why else would you come back, if not for my help? Help me Akna and then I will be able to help you.”

  A worthless appeal, there was no way there was enough of Akna left for him to respond. The boy’s mouth opened then shut and Gilash began to rise when, to his amazement, a thin voice answered him.

  “He caught me, the Cardinal is alive.”

  “Does he know who sent you? What did you tell him?” minutes pass before Akna responds.

  “He guessed but I told him nothing. He was trying to get my confession when I escaped.”

  “Escaped? You’re sure he did not let you go?”

  This time the response was almost instantaneous.

  “No, I am loyal. I would never bring an enemy down on us but he has guessed. He is a monster…”

  Hit a nerve, Gilash thought to himself, but is he angry at the suggestion he might be a traitor or frightened because he is? Is there even enough of him left to be a traitor? For all you know this might be some phantom that Lothar summoned to use against you. There would be a symmetry to it, using the image of my assassin to kill me. I can’t take any chances.

  Gilash reached out to Akna’s mind again but there was no response. There was no way to gauge the danger that the boy posed. Ultimately, it did not matter, however fond of him Gilash might be, Akna had been chosen for one simple reason, he was expendable. Witness, loose end, summoning, assassin… death seemed to solve all those problems.

  “The Cardinal’s a monster…” Akna mumbled to himself, “you have to help me, I have to get back what he took.”

  But there was no helping Akna now and no point taking a risk trying. It had been an education to see one of Lothar’s victims in the flesh and perhaps it was why the cardinal had let the boy go, just to scare him. A vain hope because Gilash would not allow himself to be cowed by such cheap theatrics. Akna was gone, they had known the risks.

  “I’ve seen enough.” He said to the nearest novice, “you were right in your assessment he is probably too far gone and it is not worth taking any chances.”

  One of the men standing behind the mumbling wretch that had once been Akna, drew his dagger and took a step forward. Akna did not move or even flinch, as his would be killer came closer. What better proof could there be that there was nothing left of the boy Gilash had trained? If Akna had been worth saving, he would never have missed that danger. It looked like his protégé had been through a lot to return to him but whatever had sustained him on his return journey had clearly died when he had reached the false safety of the compound, all that was left was for what remained of the unfortunate assassin to join it.

  “Not here,” Gilash said quickly before the knife could fall. Could it be that he did not want to see his favourite die? The men in the room looked at him expectantly.

  “We do not want to be linked to him in any way. Take him out into the city, somewhere quiet where he will not be found. Let the river have him.”

  The men looked at each other uneasily. The Asylum was a small city in its own right and they were used to walking it without fear. The streets beyond the Asylum were less familiar, less easy to control. The safe room had seen blood before why take the risk of taking the prisoner anywhere when they had him now?

  “You think it necessary my lord? A body is easier to move in pieces. If he were to struggle, it might be hard to keep hidden.” One of the bolder ones asked.

  “ Does he look likely he will struggle? And when, might I ask, did I have to start accounting for my decisions to you?”

  The man paled, “You misunderstand me, Your Lordship, I do not know what his mission was or how he came to this pass I only meant that we might be better hidden if we…”

  “You are far too modest, my son,” Gilash cut in, “you know that a cardinal is involved and you know that he lives, when it is not the will of Asemutt that he should. If you had gleaned less from his words, then I would have you drawn and quartered as surely as I will if you ever breathe a word of what happens here, this cycle. I do not know how he made it back but I do know that the survival of our order requires that he is never linked to us. Our enemies may claim what they like, it would not be the first time, but he is proof, even his blood is proof and I will not have it spilled here.” Gilash stopped and stared at the men around him, he could feel their scepticism. After all if Asemutt did not have the means to turn aside unwelcome investigations, then it would not have lasted for so long or climbed so high. They also knew that, as the patriarch of the order, the greatest threat would be to him personally. They were anonymous servitors, who could serve one master as well as another. Asemutt was too useful and held too many outstanding favours to be destroyed but whoever was behind the knifeman might be sacrificed. They thought that his paranoia was making him act irrationally, they could not fathom the truth that he simply did not wish to see the boy die. He reminded him too much of himself.

  “None of this matters,” Gilash continued staring the four other men in the room down, “it must be done because I have told you it must be done. If you doubt my judgement then surely duty and piety are enough?”

  “Of course, father. I would never wish to question your judgement.”

  “Good, we are agreed. Take him out to the city and make it quick and quiet. No one must know that he was ever associated with Asemutt.”

  The men gathered up the unresisting Akna and dressed him in the filthy robes of an inmate. It was unlikely that he would draw any attention as a madman being escorted by Niskaan’s priests and the great doors into the Asylum were never shut. Though he had already begun to regret, it Gilash did not think his order to take Akna into the city was too much of a risk and there was still a lot to be said for the idea that, so far as the inhabitants of the Asylum were concerned, he would simply disappear. There was not enough reason to embarrass himself by changing his orders, so the Patriarch of Asemutt left before the rest of them, stealing back to his own apartments to stare out at the turrets of the inner wards and the palace of the cardinal who had, for the moment, defeated him.

  He spared no further thought to Akna. It was not in his nature to mourn and the reluctance to see his protégé’s blood spilt had been a passing thing. He would do what was needed and there was nothing that would get in his way. It was the reason he had come so far and the reason he would triumph over Lothar. Akna had called the cardinal a monster but he had never truly understood the ruthlessness of the man who had trained him. What had begun as a simple assassination to avenge Lothar’s disruption of the status quo was promising to degenerate into another of the long standing cold wars, that were waged in the heart of the Asylum. As a rule Asemutt had always resisted getting involved in this kind of fight but it looked as though it would be unavoidable. Either Gilash or Lothar would have to fall, neither one could spare the time to worry about anything as insignificant as the assassin who had started the whole thing in the first place. Which is, ultimately, what saved Akna’s life.

  Chapter 5:

  “Who will find the broken, the lonely and the lost?

  And once they have been woken, who will pay the cost?”

  The eternal light of the Graven Hill shone in the distance, hiding the shadows of the Asylum. Four figures robed, in black, hurried through the unlit alleys, which paralleled the great canal that guided the river around the curve of the hill and out into the coal black waters of Nishgul. Somewhere above the shifting vapours that hid the city, the sun burned unnoticed. The four men slipped through the unnatural gloom, oblivious to the fact that their work would normally be better left to another time. On some level Akna knew he was moving again, he felt the pain of each step and watched the buildings pass him by. The men supporting him went almost unnoticed and it seemed to him th
at he was simply drifting out into the unfamiliar streets. He caught glimpses of people going about their business in the wider streets that ran just beyond the alleys but he never seemed to move in that direction, instead he slowly floated away from the torch-lit spaces and down the hill, clinging to the shadows. The air became dank and he smelled something wet and rotten. Below them boats were clustered around thin piers or tied to metal loops set in the sides of the canal, he could hear the dull thud of the wood gently bumping against the stone walls. At the centre of the waterway, boatmen paddled craft lit with flame and sorcery that, from a distance, appeared as wavering collections of stars. Akna had never seen stars, only the black smokes that curled and swelled overhead.

  “Far enough.”

  Akna did not register the voice but a firm tug on his arm halted him. It was a pity, he would dearly have loved to see those floating stars more clearly. The forced him back into a narrow alcove, which served as the temporary refuse tip for the Pickled Pike, one of the riverside taverns frequented by the merchants and rogues that provided the day to day momentum for the city beyond the Asylum walls. The building was large and old and only about half of it was open to the public. The stench of rot and damp was strong now. Akna thought he could hear singing and laughter. Perhaps he had found the safety he had been looking for after all. No. He fought that thought off as best he could. He had promised himself he would be all right when he got back to the compound. Now he could rest. This was not the compound, though. Not that it mattered, he was with his brothers, they would protect him. He knew that wasn’t true but he just didn’t know what to do if he was wrong. The promise of safety and survival was all that had sustained him. The idea that his safety was an illusion was almost impossible to accept.