The Relic Guild (11 page)

Hamir took off the gloves of his protective suit. ‘Angel, if you would, please focus your magic around her heart and try to restart it. Gene, concentrate your efforts there also. I will try to hold the virus back and give the heart a chance to pump your antitoxins throughout what’s left of her bloodstream.’

As Hamir and the two agents started to work, Betsy screamed, and the sound was amplified through the very walls of the Nightshade. It shredded Marney’s nerves. She felt Denton’s empathy encouraging calmer emotions within her. It felt like a comforting arm around her shoulders.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said to her mentor. ‘She’s dead but still living?’

Denton nodded. ‘The terracotta jar contained a spell, Marney, magic designed to turn a living person into a facile servant.’

‘A golem, you said?’

‘That’s right … eventually. At first, the spell acts like a virus that slowly destroys all humanity, driving its victim mad, giving them a hunger for blood—’

Betsy’s scream pierced the corridor once again.

‘– as you are now witnessing,’ Denton added.

Marney shivered.

The old empath sighed. ‘In the end, the spell will turn its victim’s flesh and blood, hair and bone – all organic matter – into stone. It creates a slave, an abomination, neither alive nor dead, but stripped of all memory of who they once were, and incapable of thought or reason – a golem, Marney.’

Marney looked at the body of Carrick floating in the tank. ‘And the virus passes from victim to victim through saliva?’

‘Or blood, I suppose.’

‘Have you seen this kind of magic before, Denton?’

‘No, but Hamir has experience of it.’ The old empath was thoughtful for a moment. ‘A golem has no other reason to exist than to serve the one whose magic created it. And trust me, Marney, whoever contained that spell in the terracotta jar has a far greater understanding of magic than we of the Relic Guild.’

Marney’s eyes darted to her mentor. ‘Spiral?’

‘Or one of his Genii, yes – it seems likely.’

Marney bit her lower lip. It was no secret that Spiral loathed the denizens, and if he took control of the Labyrinth there would be no mercy for any of them. A magical virus such as this would spread like a plague if it escaped into Labrys Town, not just eradicating every denizen, but also turning each of them into golems: a million servants, all loyal to Spiral. And it could so easily have happened had the Relic Guild not contained the virus at Chaney’s Den.

Marney frowned. ‘But if this jar carried magic so powerful, how did Carrick smuggle it into the Labyrinth unnoticed?’ She shrugged, with a casual smile she didn’t really feel. ‘The Genii can’t reach us here. We’re protected.’

‘Nothing is infallible, Marney,’ Denton replied. ‘True, the Timewatcher’s barrier prevents creatures of a higher magic entering the Labyrinth, but this was a spell that was well concealed within a small artefact. As for how Carrick managed to bring it here … well, if I’ve learned anything it is that treasure hunters can be a resourceful lot, though I doubt Carrick ever really knew what he had found.’ Denton sounded calm, but Marney could sense he was unconvinced when he added, ‘The jar was probably a hopeful strike by the Genii.’

Marney stared through the window, past the gurney where Hamir, Gene and Angel were trying to save Betsy’s humanity, to the tanks where the skeletons floated in preservative fluid.

‘What about the Aelf and the alchemist?’ she said. ‘They weren’t infected by this virus. Something else happened to them.’

‘Hmm …’

Denton twisted the fabric of his hat in his hands. Perplexed expressions were not often seen on the old empath’s round face, and Marney was unsettled by the one that appeared there then.

Hamir’s voice seeped through the wall of the quarantine room. ‘We’ve failed,’ he said. ‘All we have done is encouraged the virus to take its full course.’

On the gurney, Betsy had ceased her struggles and screams, and now laid quite still and calm. She seemed to be staring up at the ceiling, though she no longer had eyes; just empty holes where they should have been. Her head was bald and lumpy, her face twisted into a grotesque mask. Even as Marney watched, the bargirl’s limbs stretched and became painfully thin; her stomach shrank and her chest sank. The bite wound was gone, as were the black veins that snaked from it, and her skin was now the deep, clammy grey of soft stone.

She was a golem.

‘What’ll happen to her now?’ Marney asked, but Denton didn’t answer.

Gene removed his hood, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His brow was beaded with sweat. Angel swore and also removed her hood. Her long black hair was streaked with moisture. Hamir, however, appeared as unaffected as ever. He looked at the two empaths standing in the corridor outside until the tint of the observation window darkened into a solid black rectangle in a cream wall decorated with tiny maze patterns.

‘Poor Betsy,’ Denton whispered in the following silence. ‘I wonder if she had family.’

Marney tried not to think about that, but the idea was already in her head.

Thankfully, the moment was broken as the tall and broad figure of a young man strode down the corridor towards them. He was dressed in loose-fitting garb, his feet bare. His cane of green glass stabbed the floor with every step. Van Bam reached the empaths, his deep brown eyes showing concern.

‘How is the girl?’ he asked in deep, precise tones.

‘Gone,’ was all Denton said.

Van Bam nodded. His expression gave nothing away, and Marney refrained from reading his emotions.

‘Gideon wants to see you,’ he said to Denton, and then he looked at Marney with an apologetic expression. ‘But not you.’

‘Ah,’ Denton said. He smiled lightly as he looked from Van Bam to his protégé. ‘The Resident calls, and so I shall leave you two in each other’s company.’ He placed his crumpled hat on his head and set off down the corridor.

‘Oh, Marney,’ he called back. ‘I’d not bother going to bed, if I were you. I suspect our day is only just beginning.’

Marney and Van Bam shared a long kiss. He towered over her and his embrace was strong and engulfing. She ran a hand over his smoothly-shaved head, down his neck, and felt the muscles of his shoulders and back. Van Bam placed one big hand gently upon Marney’s cheek and with the other he pulled her tighter against his body. His passion was evident, but Marney was an empath, and she could sense that his mind was not fully focused on this stolen moment, the here and now, in her private room within the Nightshade.

She broke the kiss and frowned into Van Bam’s brown eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said.

Van Bam sighed, and Marney allowed him to manoeuvre them to her bed, where they both sat.

‘Is it the others?’ she asked. ‘Does someone know about us?’

Van Bam shook his head. ‘If anyone does, they have not revealed it to me.’

‘Then what,
Van Bam?’

He took her hand into his. ‘You have
had a difficult time tonight,’ he said. ‘How are you
feeling?’

Marney narrowed her eyes, feeling half-amused and half-
irritated.

Van Bam’s concern was genuine. Marney was an
inexperienced agent of the Relic Guild, true enough, but he
knew better than to try and mollycoddle her. He was
deflecting, trying to circumnavigate something – a point he wished to
make subtly, without upsetting her. But even an illusionist couldn’
t hide his emotions from an empath. She felt exactly
what he was thinking now.

‘You’re not staying, are
you?’ she said disappointedly.

Van Bam chuckled and kissed her
hand. ‘No. Gideon has given Samuel and me a mission.
He wants us to investigate the movements of Carrick prior
to his death.’

‘Now?’

Van Bam nodded. ‘As soon as
Samuel is ready to leave.’

‘Why do
you
have to
go? Samuel prefers his own company anyway.’

‘There is truth
to that, I suspect,’ Van Bam said with a smile. ‘
But you know how Gideon is, Marney. His orders cannot
be questioned, and duty always comes first.’

‘Yeah, I know,’
she said moodily.

And the truth was Marney really did
understand how the Relic Guild operated, and she accepted it.
But she was tired with controlling her emotions, of blocking
what she felt. The night’s work played heavily upon
her, much heavier than she had allowed herself to yet
acknowledge. She had hoped so deeply to be able to
let her guard down while in Van Bam’s arms –
maybe to cry, maybe to laugh, or to just feel
his body next to hers and know there was something
other than the war against Spiral in her life.

Van
Bam, apparently sensing how she felt, cupped her face. ‘You
saw what the contents of the jar did, Marney.’

She
nodded.

‘You know it was likely Genii magic.’

She pressed
her forehead to his and squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I
know.’

‘We have to know the identity of this Aelf
that Carrick was deal
ing with,’ Van Bam said warningly. ‘There could be enemies of the Timewatcher within Labrys Town’s walls.’

‘Just go,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be all right.’

‘Do not be so hasty.’ He kissed her. ‘You know, I had a surprise planned for you tonight.’

Marney felt his affection and managed a small chuckle. ‘What surprise?’

‘Ah, it is a secret that will now have to wait until we see each other next. For the meantime …’ He gave her a mischievous grin. ‘I think Samuel will be a while yet.’

And he kissed her again, more soundly.

Marney could feel the rising heat of Van Bam’s passion and she wanted nothing more than to share in it, to feel his skin against hers, and find the respite she craved from these dark days. But she could feel another presence now, standing outside the door to her chamber. Someone was eager to enter, but embarrassed to interrupt a private moment.

Marney broke the kiss. ‘Too late,’ she said.

Mentally, she thought to the loitering presence,
You can
come in now
,
Denton
.

Immediately, there was a click, and the outline of a door appeared on the wall. Van Bam jumped to his feet and grabbed his green glass cane as the door swung inwards, and the big empath stepped into the room.

His voice entered Marney’s mind.
Sorry for interrupting
, and then he addressed Van Bam aloud. ‘Samuel’s asking for you,’ he said seriously. ‘He’s ready to leave.’

Van Bam nodded. He gave Marney a quick, disappointed look, and then strode from the room.

Marney pursed her lips at Denton. He was crushing his hat in his hands more than usual. Evidently, the meeting with Gideon had exposed extra cause for concern, and, just like Van Bam, he was struggling to find the right words to tell her. But unlike Van Bam, his emotions were cloaked and undecipherable.

‘And what’s wrong with
you
?’ she asked with a sigh.

Denton pulled a face – a subtle approach to whatever he was withholding was impossible.

‘Gideon has a mission for us,’ he said. He shrugged, put his hat on and patted it down. ‘Get your coat, Marney.’ His grin was full-toothed. ‘You’re going to meet a Thaumaturgist.’

Chapter Seven

In the Cold Light

of Silver Moon

In the Nightshade’s spacious forecourt, Samuel stood beside the Resident’s black tram. The rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared. Silver Moon hung in the sky among stars, its blue-grey light gleaming down, cold and clean. The atmosphere was refreshing, but the temperature would continue to drop, and soon Samuel’s old bones would ache from the chill. Clara was still inside the Nightshade, but she would join him shortly, as soon as Van Bam had found her more fitting attire than a simple gown. For the time being, Samuel was glad for the moment of solitude.

The last time Fabian Moor was seen in Labrys Town, Samuel had been in his late twenties, Van Bam a little younger, and Marney scarcely older than Clara. They had been considered the rookies of the Relic Guild, the youngsters of the group. Gideon had been the Resident, of course, and the Resident always led the guild. Van Bam had not been blind back then, but Samuel struggled to remember what his eyes had looked like. Now, standing before the Nightshade, beneath the cold light of Silver Moon, Samuel could remember the agents who had died because of Fabian Moor, and it made him shiver. With stark clarity, he could see their faces and hear the sound of their voices.

Only he, Van Bam and Marney left now. This night was the first contact Samuel had had with either of them in almost forty years. The last three survivors of the Relic Guild … were they really so old?

Shrugging off his reverie, Samuel fished the spirit compass from his coat pocket. He crouched and laid the compass upon the wet cobbles of the Nightshade’s forecourt, and then produced the phial containing the dried blood and tiny pieces of skin that he had scraped from beneath Clara’s fingernails.

As he was laying the phial down beside the compass, Clara appeared. Now dressed in black leggings, a thick, hooded jumper, and heavy, calf-length boots with silver buckles down the sides, she carried a cloth satchel that hung from her shoulder. She stopped beside Samuel, but didn’t acknowledge him. Her expression was distant, lost to thought, as she stared down the tunnel that led out of the forecourt to Resident Approach.

Samuel said nothing to her at first. Still crouching, he watched as Clara produced a small and dented tin from which she took a little white tablet which she popped into her mouth. As she chewed, she ran a hand through her short, red-streaked hair. Then her attention was caught by a monument on the far side of the courtyard.

It was a large stone archway, standing fifteen feet high and twenty feet wide. It was situated several feet from the forecourt wall, a standalone structure, dull, lacking aesthetic character. Yet Clara was mesmerised by it.

‘It’s a portal,’ Samuel told her. ‘The last one standing in Labrys Town.’

As if realising for the first time she wasn’t alone, Clara looked down at Samuel with a start.

‘A portal to the Aelfir?’ she said.

Samuel nodded. ‘And our sole remaining link to them. They use that portal to send us rations and supplies. If it wasn’t for their charity, Clara …’ Samuel didn’t finish the sentence.

After a short pause, he stood, and motioned to the satchel hanging from her shoulder. ‘Is that for me?’

She looked at the satchel as if she had never seen it before, and then shrugged it off into Samuel’s hands.

‘Van Bam said we’d need it,’ she said.

He loosened the straps of the satchel, exposing several glass balls filled with liquid. He picked one out and shook it. The liquid glowed with faint green light.

‘What are they?’ Clara asked.

‘Everything and nothing,’ Samuel replied, replacing the glass ball back in the satchel. ‘As the mirror in his study suggests, Van Bam is an adept illusionist.’ He handed the satchel back to her. ‘Those are spell spheres.’

‘Of course they are,’ Clara said sarcastically. The satchel clinked as she looped it over her shoulder again. Then she shook her head wistfully. ‘You’re the Relic Guild – or what’s left of it. You’re all magickers, and not as dead and buried as people believe you to be.’

Samuel didn’t reply.

Clara rubbed her eyes. She seemed tired. ‘I don’t know how, but I remember you, Samuel. I remember Van Bam and Marney, too … There are others, but it’s all so vague, I …’

‘Clara,’ said Samuel. ‘About what Marney did to you tonight—’

‘Van Bam has already asked me, Samuel!’ she said, frustrated. ‘I don’t know what Marney did to me.’

‘And I can’t pretend to, either,’ Samuel admitted. ‘But that kiss is something to be grateful for. In part, I’m guessing Marney wanted to help you, to make the transition a little smoother.’

‘You mean the transition into the Relic Guild,’ Clara scoffed. ‘So being a changeling automatically makes me an agent?’

‘It certainly makes you dangerous enough to be a candidate.’

‘But do I have a choice, Samuel? Can I say no?’

‘I suppose you could. But then Van Bam would never allow you to leave the Nightshade.’

Clara’s eyes flashed yellow, exhibiting some of her inner wolf
’s anger. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Samuel sighed. ‘Magickers are a danger to Labrys Town, Clara, and if you’re not serving the Relic Guild then … well, you’ve met Hamir the necromancer, right?’

Clara shivered, her anger dissipating. She looked up at the moon and stars in the clear night sky.

‘When I was a child,’ she said, ‘I was told so many stories about you –
us,
I suppose. The older denizens still reckon the streets were safer before you disappeared.’ She looked down at Samuel. Her face was sad. ‘Van Bam told me how everything changed after the war, after Fabian Moor. Not exactly catching the Relic Guild at its best, am I?’

‘No,’ Samuel said softly, ‘you’re not,’ and he crouched again, returning his attentions to the compass on the floor.

Back in the old days, the duties of the Relic Guild had been straightforward. If a treasure hunter brought a magical artefact onto Labrys Town’s black market, the Relic Guild would hunt it down and deal with the seller and buyer. But now …

The Relic Guild had never been officially disbanded, but since the doorways to the Houses of the Aelfir had been closed, there had been nothing for them to do anymore. Samuel couldn’t remember the last time a magical artefact had come onto the black market, and no new generation of magickers had been born to replace the agents who had died. But now there was Clara. Now Fabian Moor had returned. Now the Relic Guild had purpose again, even if most of its agents were dead.

‘So,’ Clara’s voice startled Samuel. ‘Charlie Hemlock is the only source of information we have.’ She pointed at the compass and phial on the forecourt floor. ‘And we’re going to rescue him from a demon by using bits of his face and a fob watch?’

‘This isn’t a fob watch, Clara,’ Samuel replied. ‘It’s a spirit compass.’

So saying, he took the compass and unscrewed its cap, revealing the face within.

Clara bent down for a closer look.

‘It works with any organic material,’ Samuel explained. ‘Hair, skin, blood – anything – and it’ll track the spirit of the donor.’ Samuel pressed the compass face. It gave a click and sprang up on a hinge. ‘It was how I was able to track you.’

Beneath the compass face was a hollow interior, like a tiny, flat-bottomed dish, and curled inside was a long, silver-grey hair, thick like twine. Samuel pulled the hair out and offered it to Clara. Tentatively, she took it and frowned.

‘It’s yours,’ Samuel told her. ‘A hair from the wolf. I found it on the remains of the man you killed.’

Her expression unreadable, Clara pulled the hair taut between her fingers and studied it. ‘I’ve never seen it, you know,’ she said, her tone strange. ‘The wolf, I mean. I never remember … not clearly …’ She released the hair and watched it fall away on the chilly breeze. Her lip trembled. ‘I-I don’t think I’ve ever killed anyone before, Samuel.’

Samuel said nothing, uncorked the phial, and began tapping its contents into the hollow interior of the compass.

‘I have to ask,’ Clara said, her voice small. ‘Tonight, out in the Great Labyrinth, if Marney hadn’t stopped you—’

‘I would’ve shot you dead,’ Samuel replied unhesitatingly.

He looked up at Clara. His blunt answer had obviously offended her. He felt a flush of shame, but saw no point in dressing things up for the young changeling.

‘I’m two years away from my seventieth birthday,’ he said, ‘and I don’t expect to reach that age. I’ve been a bounty hunter since the Genii War ended, Clara. It’s how I get by, and I’ll give you no apologies or excuses.’

She looked to the floor.

‘Clara, you’re an agent of the Relic Guild now. We may be shrouded in secrecy, but there’s nothing but loyalty to our duties. From here on out, we trust each other.’

‘What’s done is done, eh?’

‘Exactly.’

She nodded, looking like a scolded child. Samuel could see Clara was doing her best to shrug off lingering doubts. He didn’t have the heart to tell her they never went away, and resumed filling the compass with dried blood and skin.

‘So,’ Clara said, ‘the spirit compass will lead us to Hemlock.’

The phial empty now, Samuel clicked the compass face back into position, got to his feet and offered Clara a closer look.

‘Sounds like magic to me,’ she said. ‘Where did you find it?’

‘A good question. It doesn’t exactly belong here, if you follow me.’

‘It’s a relic?’

Samuel nodded. ‘A genuine artefact of the Aelfir.’

Clara’s face flowed through a mixture of emotions, but finally she seemed to settle on awe.

Samuel continued. ‘Usually, these relics were returned to their proper owners, but we never did discover which House this compass was stolen from.’ Samuel allowed her a small smile. ‘I like to think of it as a perk of the job.’

‘A perk? What does Van Bam think of that?’

‘Our Resident could hardly object,’ he scoffed. ‘Where do you think that cane of his came from?’

Clara laughed then, with genuine humour. It was good to see it on her young face.

‘Tell me something,’ she said. ‘Van Bam is an illusionist, Marney an empath – and how magic touched me certainly isn’t a secret anymore – but how did magic touch you, Samuel?’

Samuel didn’t answer. The compass was vibrating in his hand.

The needle ticked around the face slowly, and then spun anti-clockwise in a full circle. It stopped, shivering, pointing directly south down Resident Approach. It was a strong reading.

‘Got him,’ Samuel said. He looked at the sleek black body of the Resident’s personal tram sitting on its track in the forecourt. ‘Let’s go.’

The Resident of Labrys Town received few visitors. Most of those who came to the Nightshade did so on official business – the heads of the merchant and industry guilds, gambling and entertainment councils – and these visitors could never hide their discomfort when seeing the metal plates covering their governor’s eyes. They wondered how one weakened by blindness could attain such a lofty position as the Residency. They did not realise that there was more than one way in which a man might see, and the Resident of Labrys Town saw everything.

Van Bam stood alone in his observatory, deep inside the Nightshade. The room was alive with wispy imagery and spectral visions that filled his inner sight with myriad shades of grey. On the streets of Labrys Town, the ubiquitous eye devices took in streams of information at all times. The police used the eyes to watch the hidden corners of town, but ultimately all audio and visual information was fed to the Nightshade for the attention of the Resident.

Van Bam observed Samuel and Clara, and it was almost as though he stood out in the forecourt beside them. But the young changeling and the old bounty hunter were unaware of the Resident’s presence. He watched as they boarded the Nightshade’s official tram and set off through the tunnel, heading south towards the central district. Van Bam followed them, jumping through the eyes held in the hands of the statues lining Resident Approach; and then he overtook the tram and travelled across the world he governed. Drifting, flying almost, he weaved through the streets and back alleys as a phantom, the unseen watcher.

Labrys Town held a population of close to a million denizens. It was divided into five districts and covered two and a half thousand square miles of ground. The town was boxed in by the sheer boundary walls, a hundred feet high on all four sides. Beyond the boundary lay the endless twists and turns of the Great Labyrinth, where the Retrospective roamed, where even Van Bam’s vision could not see. There was no escaping this place, not anymore. Labrys Town was all the denizens had, all they would ever have, and they knew they were being watched.

The districts were all but deserted in the cold early hours of Silver Moon. The streets were wet and few people walked them. To Van Bam’s inner sight, all was as it should be. He continued to follow the eyes southward until reaching the central district and a plaza known as Watchers’ Gallery, located at the exact centre of town. Inside the plaza stood a square building that was the headquarters of the Labrys Town Police Force. Impressive in size, it was still much smaller than the Nightshade. Van Bam’s vision entered the building, jumping through the eyes inside, until he reached the upper level and the office of Captain Jeter.

Jeter sat as his desk, working through a mountain of paperwork. He looked tired. Three empty cups before him were evidence of the coffee that was helping to keep him awake. The office now filled the observation room of the Nightshade as though Van Bam stood there before the desk, but it was only imagery, and he ensured that Jeter could not see him.

With a mental command, Van Bam activated the audio function. ‘Working late, Captain?’ he said.

Jeter started to his feet. He saluted his Resident, though in actuality the gesture was aimed at the eye device fixed to his office wall.

‘Yes, sir,’ the police captain said.

‘It is good to see the denizens are in such dedicated hands. Please, be seated.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Jeter took his chair again, but his body language remained stiff and formal and the dark lenses of his spectacles were concealing his eyes. Van Bam pursed his lips.