Chapter 4:
“A Fly on the Wall”
Olstop
had once been a large city by the standards of the Bowl, the proximity of the Blue Snake meant that it was surrounded by tall trees and prime farm lands. Since its founding the city has marked the border between the old Thatcher Barony, so recently acquired by the Inquisition and the Carter family’s territories. The Carters were now almost certainly the richest clan in the Bowl, that is with their
neighbour
to the south gone.
Olstop’s
decline in size had come in spite of its good location and the wealth of its overlords. Like so many things in the Bowl, its fate had been decided by the trains. Once, they had run regularly through the green lands and made the city a flourishing metropolis, since the war ended, however, the old tracks were never used, except by hand carts and the occasional steam engine; the fact that the Carters could even field these engines was a sign of their wealth. Most enterprises found the necessary use of combustible fuels prohibitively expensive but the Carters had long harvested these lands for food and lumber and they were loathe to lose them, thus they had used the old track and constructed their own engines to ferry as much as possible up to the main line. Some of the rest went on the barges struggling their way up river but in spite of all their efforts there was simply no way to keep up the prosperity the city had once known and
Olstop
had the look of an old timer, doing his best to keep a shine on a worn out pair of shoes.
The Hitching Post stood on the outskirts of this slow sprawl, serving those who still travelled the trade routes between the Blue Snake and the Line. Even though a lot of the migrant workers were gone these days and the merchants had little love for Inquisitors, the Post still saw a fair amount of custom. Like it or not the land around
Olstop
and beyond was simply too valuable to abandon, as people might abandon so many other settlements when the trains stopped coming. Merchants overcame their distaste for greedy Churchmen and the extra effort and expense of transporting their goods, and still came seeking the renewal of their contracts and the masters of more distant baronies still sent representatives to ensure that the all important fruits of this verdant land kept flowing. Despite its regular custom, The Hitching Post was by no means the best inn to be found on the outskirts of
Olstop
but it was clean and out of the way and that’s how many of its clients liked it.
The latest arrival at the Post was well shrouded in the folds of an over-sized poncho and the shadow cast by an equally over-sized hat. A more perceptive observer might have guessed that something about the newcomer’s carriage was feminine but to the average onlooker her sex was indiscernible and this could be any one of a thousand waifs and rogues that plied their varied trades along the river. The fact that the
traveller
does not remove her hat when she enters the common room is cause for some concern on the part of the other patrons. Custom dictates that eyes should never be hidden when in company. The eyes of the dead are often the only warning the living get, too often the failure to spot the blank,
irisless
eyes of the possessed had caused death in the Bowl. Being so far from the true fringes of the desert, this breach in etiquette causes only a low hum of speculation, which ends when the innkeeper confronts the shadowed figure. After a quick murmured interchange he takes a long hard look at the face under the hat, then gives nod.
With that reassurance, the tension in the room dissipates as quickly as it had built and the room swallows the stranger up, making her part of the crowd. Only one set of eyes still follow her and they belong to a fly clinging to the rafters above with brittle grey claws. The fly has been dead for some days now and it is becoming hard for the little spy to hang onto things without the naturally sticky secretions of its small body. Behind the multifaceted eyes, two minds connected by their mutual position of this tiny vessel are debating.
“
It seems you were right,”
one of the voices buzzes, the sound covered by the rattle of the fly’s brittle wings, “
the foolish girl is running straight back to her father.”
“Where else could the spoilt child go? She cannot think of life away from the privilege she has known and she cannot face the thought of marrying Angus, far too pious far too controlling.
She didn’t couch it in those terms when she asked for my help, of course, but the cause for her distress was clear as day. All her life she’s been pampered and allowed to run wild now suddenly she is reduced to a bargaining chip.”
“She’s foolish to think that her father will shelter her! After all he is as much part of this marriage pact as anyone else.”
Mordiki says scornfully.
“She believes that she can sway him, as she has managed to do all her life, I must confess that I did nothing to discourage that line of thought.”
“You have played the part of virtuous priest too long, Rugan. Who cares if the little idiot is
labouring
under a misapprehension? When she is found at her father’s estates it will not matter how he protests, you will have sown enough doubt in the General’s mind to wreck whatever plans our enemies, be they mortal or not, have made around her. Though they must be truly desperate if they are reliant on this naive child.”
“Don’t be so sure, I think they have used our complacency over the last six years to their advantage. We thought when we destroyed the Citadel that we had taken the head from the beast, I think that is what they wanted us to believe.”
“Or you do not want to believe that it is you who has lost your grip on matters?”
“Do not insult me, Mordiki, I will not endure it.”
“I apologize for any affront you have taken, Rugan. Believe me I hold you in the greatest regard, it does not matter if Leedon has been corrupted by the remnants of the
Strigoi
clans or simply decided to resist our influence and consort with his fellow barons on his own. If we can make people believe that the bloodsuckers are still at large we can reign in our flock. If we can catch a few of the dregs left over from the war and link them to the Carter Barony, so much the better. We have already taken possession of the
Island
, why not claim the rest of the river?”
Back in the privacy of his chamber, Rugan grinds his teeth at his colleague’s small mindedness. How could he dare call the girl naïve, when he seemed to see no danger in blithely suggesting the conquest of
the Carter Barony nor
the possibility that some of the Strigoi Elders might be at large. It was as he suspected, the rest of his brethren were growing restless, who could blame them? Caught out in the desert, surrounded by beetles and old bones, but the possibility that their impatience might be playing into the enemy’s hands was disconcerting.
“It is not a matter of simple conquest, Mordiki, do not forget I was the one there at the end! Five coffins were empty when we took the Citadel, that means there may be five Elders unaccounted for, we cannot simply assume we are opposing weaklings in this matter. For all we know we are still playing a game of their devising.”
“We agreed at the time those Elders could have died centuries ago or those sarcophagi may never have even been used. Why assume that they even exist simply because we have had a few setbacks? If there truly were Elders behind all, this our spies would have seen something by now.” Mordiki is dismissive.
“We shall see soon enough I am sure, I only wish she had waited long enough for me to involve Captain Blake with her escape.”
“What would we gain by that now? It’s clear that your plan is working, we will throw suspicion on the Carters and imply that they are conspiring with dark forces.”
“Once more, easier said than done. Carter will not be so easily cornered, besides I didn’t just want the hunter involved for political reasons.”
“He would only ever have been useful if there were any Strigoi to be dealt with.”
The other Necromancer comments.
“No need to protest, Rugan, whether you are right or wrong, enough suspicion will force Leedon away from this alliance to one of our choosing. If we can cause enough panic we might even be able to supplant the current baron, at which point it might be acceptable for General Leedon to marry his only daughter and put another corrupted barony under the Church’s protection. Either way it saves us having to wait for Carter to fade from the picture naturally.”
“You fool yourself, Mordiki and your arrogance is made clear by the way you keep referring to the Church as ‘ours’, even if the leeches are not behind him Tenichi and his supporters are subverting much of our power. I think that this plan may flush out our enemies and might ruin the marriage that they have been trying to engineer. It will not be so simple however, to just dispossess Carter. Not unless I can prove his link to the Strigoi without doubt, even then that might not be enough.
Angus is right when he says that the barons are growing restless, would they simply stand by while we took control of the two richest territories in the
Union
? I am surprised there was so little opposition to the marriage but a military occupation… they would never stand for it.”
“Let the barons try to argue! Once we have the river, we can starve them into submission. Besides I still don’t understand why you are so sure that the Strigoi have so much invested in this marriage, if the girl were one of their agents, perhaps but it is she who has chosen to run.”
“They sought to use her in some way we have not yet guessed but I cannot believe that it is coincidence that Angus has become obsessed with the idea of the Gate, I know the Chief Pardoner took something from the Citadel. I don’t know exactly what was said but I know Tenichi was able to convince the General that Lillian Carter could help him find the Gate and that Carter himself knew all the right things to say.”
“So you assume the Strigoi must have coached the father?”
“Who else? A marriage to a daughter of the Whistler clan would have done just as much to win him acceptance with the barons but he insisted on the girl even though he obviously cannot stand her. The barons’ agreement to the match may be a measure of the control the remnants of the Strigoi still retain.”
“Leaving the General and his dealings aside for the moment, I still don’t understand why Blake is necessary? I’d be the first to admit that he is impressive but as far as I can see, he only complicates matters.”
“No doubt but it may well be necessary to disrupt our enemies’ plans. He is uniquely capable of dealing with the Strigoi when they come, not only that but there is no one alive who knows more of the Gate. He’s even seen it or at least one of those he has cannibalized has. If the girl is some sort of key, he might well give us access to the Gate and even if we can find no use for its power ourselves, we will be able to guard it. The old texts tell us little of the Gate but they make it clear that the leeches must not attain it.”
“Why worry? They will not come and if they do they can be of no account, I tell you they are broken. We have hidden in the shadows for long enough.”
“So you would stir the flames of the Inquisition again? Use their fear of the arcane to gain power and then calmly announce our existence to the world? It would be a massacre.”
“And with each death we would become stronger!”
“Unless our true enemy is waiting for us to make a target of ourselves! We must be sure they are entirely destroyed before we dare attempt our dominion.”
“They are gone! Scattered! There are only the barons left to stand against us now.”
“Again you forget what lies behind the barons. Who truly created the
Union
? While our kind plotted in the desert, learning our craft in inches, they made all we now know as civilization.”
“It is their concealment. They hide in the herd, even as they feed on it. There was no nobility in what they made, only necessity.”
“Which is why we were fools to think they would give it up so easily! I know they are out there, waiting for us to make such a mistake.”
“Save that line of thought for the sermons, Father, whatever they might once have been, we are stronger now! Should we never take what is ours, for fear some unseen enemy waits for us to show ourselves? Is it not written that ‘bone remains long after blood has dried.’?”
“But bone must endure, we are still in too precarious a position to seek open dominion and certainly the Inquisition is not our route to power, they would revile us just as deeply as the Strigoi, if they knew.”
“The Strigoi created the
Union
and we shaped the Inquisition that has cleansed it! I do not suggest showing our hand all at once but ‘wait’ and ‘caution’ are words easily said from your palaces and towers, the rest of us must abide in tombs and ghost towns amid these merciless sands, which clean old bones like carrion birds. How long must we wait to see if there is some substance to these shadows you frighten us with?”