Mark Newton - City of Ruin

Brynd shook his head and turned away, the three elderly cultists gazing back at them in a line as the soldiers departed. The two Night Guards resumed their patrols of Villiren, pondering if they could actually be of any use. Cultists were notoriously unreliable, unless they came from among those who had links with Imperial networks, and even those they did occasionally work with couldn't really be trusted. These three in particular seemed like crazies. His plans were best founded on solid facts and good probabilities – so, unless they could manufacture military weaponry of some kind, you couldn't hope to build a strategy around them.

*

Giant trilobites the size of dogs clicked along the streets, investigatincraps of food. They would lurch back and forth from people's paths, antennae waving in the air, giving some mild screech of alarm, beforinding some dark doorway in which to disappear. You didn't gehese creatures much further south than this, and he had missed theiccentric presence. Nearby hung a rack of their shell casings, ready to be sold as decorative armour to people with more money than sense.

Brynd had stressed to Lupus just how important it was to be seen in the city, to be visible at a time like this. People smiled at them, old men patted their backs, young boys watched in awe on seeing the finest of the Empire's soldiers here to offer support. They had to represent stability, show the citizens that everything would be all right – even if it wasn't. But everyone here seemed full of calm, and whenever he asked them about the ice, they simply shrugged.

One trader summed it up: 'Everyone's got problems, in't they, commander?'

*

'You can buy all sorts of junk here,' Brynd observed, indicating exotic pots, ornaments, chalcedony necklaces, paduasoy scarves. In their craftwork he could discern a mixture of cultural influences, from the tribes of other islands – maybe Folke, Blortath, even Varltung – to ancient designs of the Shalafar civilization, the Mathema who had been obsessed with mathematical precision.

Brushing a hand through his white hair, Brynd said, 'Odd place, this. I mean, we're near the seafront, where the streets are older, so you'd think there'd be some air of history at least…'

Lupus turned sharply, peering through the crowds.

'Trouble?' Brynd asked, his hand casually dropping on the hilt of his sabre.

'No,' Lupus panted. 'Nothing.'

'Didn't look like nothing judging by your reaction,' Brynd muttered. 'Don't want another Haust situation here, do we? Can do without you going missing, of all people. We'll be needing our best archer in the weeks to come.'

Days had passed since Private Haust had disappeared, another reason the soldiers were exploring this neighbourhood. Even if the Inquisition were working on the case, it was still worth keeping an eye out, because there might be some remains to discover, a boot, a strip of ripped material, someone who'd spoken to the victim before he vanished.

Eventually Lupus replied, 'Was nothing, really. I just thought I saw someone I recognized… Apologies, sir. Let's continue.'

Brynd could see patches of alien stonework now and then, the city betraying its age, a wall maybe that was out of place, buildings that denied the surroundings their coherency. Brynd was constantly assessing the layout of the streets, the vantage points, closed-off zones, those regions which were solid, and those that would eventually crumble. They'd been doing this survey for weeks, in preparation for war. The enemy was reported to be gathering in significant numbers on the island opposite, gearing up for a seaborne invasion. Combat would be here in a city if the surveillance was right, not on a battlefield like they were all trained for.

'Lupus Bel.'

Brynd looked up curiously; the young soldier seemed to recognize the voice even before he saw her. A tall woman was standing there – though a fraction shorter than Lupus himself. She was wrapped in a brown fur coat, thick boots, her sleek black hair hanging loose under a severe fringe.

Brynd watched him, curious. Years collapsed in Lupus's face.

'Beami,' Lupus spluttered. 'I thought I'd seen you. I knew it.'

'Me, too, I…'

'I mean I know you used to live here, but not now. I just caught a glimpse.'

'Yeah, I saw you,' the dark-haired woman replied. 'That's why I came back.'

Brynd could see Lupus was searching his mind for something suitable to say, but was disorientated, a soldier with no clue of his current location.

'You might as well smile,' Beami said. 'I've not changed that much, have I?'

'Sorry.' Lupus broke into a genuine laugh. 'How long's it been?'

'Six… seven years.' She touched his arm, a gesture made from instinct rather than thought, from the habit of being close to him. She eyed his black uniform, the neat stitching, then stroked the star on his breast. 'You've done well, I see. You always wanted to be one of the Night Guard.'

'And you? How… are you?'

'Good. I'm, uh, married now, but I'm good,' Beami replied. 'Still working with relics… you know me.'

'Are you happy? I mean… sorry, I meant I hope you're happy.'

Brynd coughed into his fist. Enough of this chat, they were on duty now.

Lupus glanced at him sheepishly. 'Where are my manners? Bea, this is Commander Brynd Lathraea, Commander of the Night Guard.'

'Oh, my.' Beami examined the commander. 'The leader of the Jamur military. The mysterious albino. I've heard a lot about you.'

'Nothing bad, I hope,' Brynd smiled. 'Sele of Jamur, miss.'

'Sele of Jamur, commander.' Her voice possessed a slight hesitancy; the usual reaction whenever anyone's gaze met his red pupils for the first time.

'Commander, this is Beami Del. We knew each other a few years ago – when I was sixteen.'

'Nice to meet a friend of the private,' Brynd said. 'One of the finest soldiers I've worked with, this one. Youngest member of the Night Guard as well.'

Tense smiles were exchanged between them as local people sailed past around them. Some stopped to contemplate these well-dressed men in their black uniforms, standing talking to this beautiful woman. Time seemed to shudder to a standstill.

'We need to order some meat,' Brynd reminded Lupus eventually, 'for the troops. It seems a mastodon's been brought down, not far off, so I want to put an order in for sufficient cuts to be delivered. I know we have our own supplies already, but we'll be needing to build up strength.'

'Right you are, sir,' Lupus agreed, still observing Beami.

– Faces turned to the sky.

A garuda flew in low, flashes of brown and white and red, creating a downdraught that rattled the canvas awnings of the stalls, then it headed straight out to sea, in skies empty of buildings, before it arced upwards – towards Tineag'l and into the grey.

'If you're staying somewhere in the city,' Beami said, 'you'll find me on a street in the Ancient Quarter called the Ru Una. Visit me there. I'm free the day after tomorrow, so we should catch up, if you can find the free time.'

'I'm not sure of our itinerary… commander?'

'I'll be in meetings all day, and there's no training scheduled,' Brynd replied. 'Feel free to take a few hours off. Things are just a waiting game at the moment.'

Lupus looked at her again, a new eagerness in his expression. 'The day after tomorrow, then?'

'It's right by the Onyx Wings, the whitewashed house with the red door.' She made a move as if to kiss him, but glanced away, thinking better of it. As she walked past him she breathed into his ear, 'I've missed you.'

Brynd read it on her lips and it seemed like it hurt her to say it. She moved on through the crowds, soon lost in their mass.

Cities were much the same wherever you went in the Archipelago. Jeryd saw the same types of inhabitants no matter who built the buildings or where they were constructed. There were the down-and-outs, the drunkards, people reacting to them in the same way, with disgust. There were always people who wanted things, and those who could and who couldn't have them. But you might also see a little happiness contained in the smile of a child, and everyone liked that.