World's End (5 page)

He left the window and came to her bed now, and began to speak of such things. She mostly blanked out his voice, pretending to listen, until he said, ‘I even dabble in a little spell craft myself.'

‘There's no magic in cities,' said Lalie.

The mayor toyed with a curling strand of her hair. It was growing long and thick again, already responding to the good
food she received here, the lotions and oils brought in on trays. ‘Usually not,' said Izven in his scholarly voice. His voice never changed, however excited he became. His eyes lingered on the man – perhaps a relative – mechanically fucking someone at the other end of the chamber, to the sound of whimpering and rattling chains.

Lalie knew a little of spells, especially slow-cast ones, which one did not need to be a mage to cast. She repeated, ‘There's no magic in cities.'

Izven kneaded her breast, his stubby fingers digging in to the point of pain. She squirmed since that was what he wanted, but if he
really
hurt her she'd bite and claw him, and he knew it. He said, ‘There is a space below, Lalie. Below Yincastle. Deep below. I go there now and then. With certain friends. Are you thirsty?'

‘No.'

‘Call me “Mayor”, Lalie. Titles are important.'

‘I'll give you a title of my own,' she said, smiling with bared teeth.

He looked at her with no change of expression. ‘You delight me. Do you know, Lalie, that genuine, committed followers of Inferno are quite rare? I mean those who practise the hidden rites, as you did.'

Izven gestured at a servant to bring a drink. ‘O, we have
some
Inferno people here in Yinfel,' he went on, ‘but they're not committed. They've not taken the vow of property. They think they have, but most don't know the true words of that vow. Do you remember telling me those words when I asked you what they were, on our trip here from Elvury? That was when I knew you were genuine. A noble and misunderstood Spirit is Inferno, Lalie. I do not swear to him myself, understand. But I
appreciate
him, and his followers. Do you feel he will awaken in our lifetimes?'

She shrugged, the chains clinking. Whether or not he did, her flame would join his fire.

‘I feel he may,' said Izven, fondling her more gently now. ‘I expect a visitor tonight. A very important visitor. Can you guess where he's from? The castle.
The
castle. Where Vous lives.' He examined her surprised look. ‘Yes, it is a well-kept secret. We are Aligned with the castle now, here in my city. But really, we always were Aligned. Soon the people will learn of it, and there shall be changes they will not like very much at all. It won't matter. A lot of them will die.'

She thought of Anfen, and all the other men like him, how fanatical they were in their fight against the castle. What Izven said was impossible. She scoffed.

Seeming to gauge her thoughts, he said, ‘It is all a game, Lalie. There is a lot of pretending. There must be, or people would not play it as we wish them to. And only a couple of hundred people truly understand that it is a game, and understand how we play it. It grew much easier when the schools of magic and half-giants were gone, you see. But even when they were here, our game was played the same way. The Mayors' Command did their work against the castle in earnest. But they were only generals, Lalie. Generals whom we selected, trained, whose very minds we created. They know warfare well, such men, but that is all they know. They used the men and tools we gave them. They reported all they did to us and they answered to us. But we do not share our private designs with them. All this time, there were only one or two cities left who weren't secretly Aligned.'

She couldn't understand it. ‘But, all the wars …'

‘Never mind those! People must be managed; herds must sometimes be culled. The world had to be kept busy while the Arch Mage did his work and created a new Spirit. His own armies and ours, for what if they turned their attention inwards instead of at some outside threat? Men feel they need to fight. So we let them, as long as they do not fight us. That's all, Lalie.'

How could the whole war have been orchestrated? It was impossible. Such a thing was too big and chaotic to truly control. She refused to believe it. ‘Do you mean that your city … and all the cities who fight with each other … are really friends?'

‘Friends,' he said contemplatively, settling back on the bed beside her. He ran a finger over the chains holding her wrists as though they were a sensual part of her. Over in the corner, the other man's mechanical fucking went on and on, his body like a machine someone had forgotten to switch off. ‘Think of it, Lalie, as a game we mayors and lords all play. It is a
serious
game, of course. When the army of my city battles another, I wish earnestly for victory. I am proud when we win; I am upset when we lose. But ever I remain here, in Yincastle, safe and comfortable, managing Yinfel's people. We Free Cities were earnest in our game against the castle for a long while. But all along we understood it was indeed a game. Fighting men do not see it that way. We cannot let them. If they did, they would not fight and die as they do, all to be just minor pieces on a board.

‘Avridis – the Arch Mage – is someone I partly admire. He has always played the game differently. He was just an apprentice wizard, not born into any of the ruling families, and so not invited to play our game at all. But through his talents in magic he fought his way to a place at the table with the rest of us.
For a long while, he played as a winner – a better player in fact than many of us. His part may be over now, but he has surprised us before. We shall see.

‘Lalie, the only
real
rule of the game is that we, the game's players, are to remain high-placed no matter what else happens. At the very least kept in honour and comfort, away from the toiling rabble. It is a rule usually adhered to, but not always. Some mayors are foolish. Now and then – even for a decade or two – fools of one city or other get a place of power, fools who don't understand the game. They would, if they could, change the rules altogether. Tauk the Strong of Tanton is one such fool. Liha of Faifen is another of them. She is probably dead now, when she could be enjoying life as I do. Earnest people, admirable in their way, but limited by silly ideas. Foolish.' He sighed.

Lalie curled up beside him, no longer sure what to believe. ‘Ilgresi? His city fell. Did you …'

Izven laughed, each
ha
so controlled it was practically spoken. ‘Ilgresi the Blind is no fool. We are distant cousins, he and I. He is now in Tsith. He knew very well Elvury would fall. He helped. He made a deal with Avridis. Do you really think, Lalie, that such a wealthy city's inner workings could have been so rotted through without its ruler knowing? He was surprised only by the timing of it – we all were. It happened a few days early. Those horrid creatures are as difficult to control in large numbers as they are to kill. Few things go to plan perfectly. It did not matter, our “dramatic escape” looked good for the generals.'

‘You knew Elvury would fall?'

‘All of us knew but Tauk and Liha. We lingered in that city only because of this unexpected business with the Pilgrims.'

Lalie nodded. The mayor had quizzed her repeatedly about
Eric and Case, not seeming to mind that he got the same answers each time.

Izven's drink arrived in a small glass, and he gulped it down in one swallow. It made his face flush and pupils dilate. He dismissed the servant with a gesture like flicking away an insect. ‘You have more questions. Ask, Lalie.'

‘Are you friends with the Arch?'

‘
Friends
is a peculiar word. It is all a dance, Lalie, every action, every word. Some of the dance's moves are courteous and graceful, even seductive. Other moves are swift and brutal as a cudgel's blow. We dance about each other all the while, Lalie.' To her astonishment, a tear came to Izven's eye. It slid down his cheek. She understood a moment later it was just an effect of the drink he'd consumed. He said, ‘If I told you the Arch Mage would come to visit us, would you be surprised, Lalie?' Verily, she was speechless. ‘Ah, but not quite him,' said the mayor. ‘A Strategist comes, Lalie. Vashun is his name. I have expected him a while, but he is late. It does not matter, does it? For we may find ways to pass the time as we wait.'

He surprised her with the suddenness with which he pinned her body beneath his, his hands about her throat, squeezing air out of her while his pale soft body pressed down, entering her with violence he'd not before given a hint of. Lalie gasped for air as his hands now and then eased to let her draw a partial breath. A distant part of her rebelled against being used this way: I am one of Inferno's chosen, she thought; I am she He spared from the hall of death! I am for
Him
, not you!

Then as if in response, Izven's words echoed again:
A noble, misunderstood Spirit, Lalie. Do you feel he will awaken in our lifetimes? I feel he may …

A smile spread across her face in spite of her lack of breathing
air. She could not be certain, but she believed she understood what the mayor had meant.

There was no knowing how much time had passed since she'd blacked out. A group of men surrounded Lalie's bed in quiet conversation. One of them was far taller and thinner than the others. His clothes glowed with shifting colours. His voice was a rasp filled with ugly humour: ‘We have learned that even entities as great as dragons can and do … miscalculate, shall we say.' There was wheezing laughter. ‘So this is the girl, yes, yes. How much is it that she knows of their practices?'

Izven said, ‘Much, Strategist. All the common rituals, all the waking ones. Many Offerings too, though of course …'

‘We need not trouble with that.' The tall thin one dismissed the others with a nod. They went and browsed like folk at market through the other chained women and girls. The Strategist reached out a long finger, so white and thin Lalie thought it was bone. It touched her belly, sending a ripple of cold through her. ‘The waking rites may be useful. There is less to it all than one might think, Izven. Especially in this case. The Spirit's personality already lives. It is only diminished. It is difficult to explain the science.'

Stiff and wooden, the Strategist leaned over Lalie's body. His rustling voice seemed to savour itself, broken here and there with wheezing gasps. ‘Being human at first, Vous was … difficult. A fire is a misleading but … sufficient analogy. With Inferno we need but pour fuel upon it to reawaken it. There is no need for the long process we had. To attract and build that initial … spark.' Vashun touched Lalie again, though no cold ran through her this time.

She swatted feebly at his hand.

Surprised to find her awake, Vashun wheezed laughter. He said, ‘Rest, little one. A long trip is before us, but I am sure you will … enjoy … its destination. Think of it as the final stretch of a journey you long ago set out upon.' He twisted a long thin hand, questing for words. ‘The less pleasant scenery is behind you now. Ah, but all our journeys have such, for a stretch. A little trial is needed, here and there. To sort the … devoted, from those who merely … posture.'

Not knowing what he meant, Lalie bared her teeth. Vashun stepped back a pace, smiling as if pushed by a blast of pleasant warmth. He breathed deeply. ‘Ah, mm! You would ask, had you speech, where it is that we go? To the Ash Sea, little one, to the Ash Sea. There is someone there we must, ahh … awaken.'

Lalie gasped. A wave of chills rippled through her as understanding struck. She clung tightly to this part of the dream, cherishing its warmth, hoping more than anything else that she would awaken to find it real. By night, to the clopping hooves of the steeds that drew the wagon, she did so.

What Eric had taken to be a city was no more than a cluster of stone monoliths, menhirs and upright slabs fashioned not unlike large gravestones, all made of the same basalt grey skystone of the cavern's walls, roof and floor. Although Vyin had called it an Invia roost, no Invia were about. Some white feathers littered the floor between the thirty or so stone pieces, some of which – like the bulbous trunk they presently hid behind – had been made in imitation of trees, with delicate stone lattice leaves fanning from trunks either squat and round, or tall and lordly. Many pieces were broken, smashed upon the ground, partly dissolved by time to dust. There seemed little order to the roost … it was as if the structures were placed with the randomness of tossed stones, or pieces left upon the board of an unfinished game.

They were too far now from Shâ to see whether or not any war mages still lived for the dragon to torment. They could faintly make out the dragon's huge silhouette, with just glimpses of its poison colours. It remained perfectly still for stretches of time, then trampled into motion. It was unreal to see something so huge move with such nimbleness.

Eric had never been so winded and exhausted as when they finally came to rest after their sprint to the roost, nor had he
ever known such terror. Nor had Aziel, judging by her shivering and quiet weeping. He tried to understand the fear the great dragon had given him, but he could not. His death had seemed just as likely, or more so, when he'd gone through the door and lay clutching his briefcase in the corpse-strewn field while a war mage murdered nearby. And death had seemed just as likely before he and Case had been rescued from a Tormentor in the woods, or when they'd stumbled into groundman traps, and several other times besides. This time, though, the fear had gone beyond such a trivial concern as whether he lived or died. He did not know how that could be so.

‘Aziel,' he whispered. ‘That … thing. It wants to be free from here, do you understand? It wants to live among us, among people. I don't know what role we play in all this, or why we've been brought up here. But we can't let that happen.'