Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

‘How does a gang type end up here? And how does he go from having a table to going on stage?’

‘Well, he asked for a favour, and I was too scared to say no.’

‘I don’t really get the chance to mix with people like that.’

‘Count yourself lucky.’

‘I was interested in what he had to say, even if he doesn’t impress everyone. I had this silly idea in mind of offering my help.’

The woman eyed him suspiciously. ‘There are better people to help.’

‘But I agree with his sentiments.’

‘You know, I’m feeling generous.’ She then went on to describe the address at which Malum could be found. ‘That’s if you’re serious in your offer.’

‘I’m very serious,’ Fulcrom replied. As if on cue, Lan came over with a necklace in her hand and a wide smile on her face.

‘Well,’ the owner declared, ‘would you look at that. What were the chances?’

‘I know,’ Lan replied, with fake elation.

Fulcrom rose and stood alongside Lan. ‘That’s wonderful news. Now I won’t have to buy you another.’

‘We should probably be going.’

‘Let me show you out,’ the woman said. She walked them back through the musty corridors, which smelled of spilled alcohol and arum weed.

‘One last thing.’ The woman paused at the bottom of the stairwell to the exit. ‘You are both awful liars and performers.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I know lousy acting when I see it. You should have just been honest and asked for his details outright. I’d be glad to see him stopped — that’s if you think you have it in you.’

Fulcrom considered continuing the charade, but decided it wasn’t worth it. ‘We have to be careful. We know who we’re dealing with.’

‘I know. Make sure you watch your back.’

Outside, Fulcrom consulted Lan on their next move. They weighed up their options, but with nothing else in their way they decided to press on to the address.

‘With the military out of the city, we need to see if we can stop this sooner rather than later,’ Fulcrom concluded. ‘At the moment, though, I’m short on ideas. .’

The two of them headed through the wet streets. The cobbles were shiny in the afternoon sun. A giant trilobite, which Fulcrom had heard of but never seen until now, skittered across their path dragging a crate of tools. The devastation from the war was clearer here, but Fulcrom guessed that things had been far worse before they turned up. There wasn’t so much rubble, but it was the lack of activity in what should have been a thriving district that was disconcerting.

It took them the better part of an hour to reach the area they wanted, a well-to-do zone with a few taverns, faded shopfronts, and that kind of architectural spirit far too lacking in the rest of the city.

The building was a whitewashed affair with timber frames and a flat roof. A few people milled around nearby and Fulcrom tried to assess whether or not they were related to the operation Malum was running. A cluster of youths came out of a side door and marched with deliberate purpose and an air of nonchalance. He spotted a few knives being carried, so they decided to hang back a little while longer.

‘So what exactly is the plan?’ Lan asked. ‘We just storm in, the two of us?’

‘No,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘I think we need a little more confirmation of what’s going on. I suspect our next move should be a stealthy one. I want to get up on the roof.’

‘Easy enough.’

‘For you, maybe, not for the likes of me.’

‘Should get yourself some powers someday,’ Lan chuckled.

The roofs were all flat and the buildings close together so Fulcrom decided they should head to one of the nearby taverns, get up on its roof, and jump across until they were on the roof of Malum’s building. Lan happily enough skipped up onto the roof when no one was looking, but Fulcrom had to find his way around the back to scramble up. Lan gave him a hand up at the top, and with an effort he found himself on top of the tavern.

‘Thanks,’ he spluttered.

‘No problem,’ Lan replied.

The place offered a good view of the area. The sun was higher in the sky now and a cold wind blew half-heartedly. The youths had moved on a few streets, and Lan spotted them heading towards the east.

‘Let’s go over.’ Fulcrom steadied himself, took a run and leapt across the three-foot gap between the rooftops. Lan effortlessly took a large step, her foot hardly touching the adjacent roof before she’d moved on to the rooftop of Malum’s building.

‘All right,’ Fulcrom muttered as he landed alongside her and wiped the gritty rainwater from his palms.

There was a hatch on the top, a mouldy bucket to one side, but otherwise nothing else of use. Fulcrom headed towards the hatch, saw that it had not been opened for a while.

‘Lan, can you give a hand here?’

‘Sure, is it locked?’

‘I’m not sure. It just needs a yank to pull it open, but I don’t want to make a noise.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Lan hunched over the hatch and tuned in to her powers; then, with a quick heave, she snapped up the hatch. It came loose, and the noise was discreet enough not to raise an alarm.

After a few minutes, confident that they were unheard, Fulcrom poked his head into the opening: there was only blackness down below, but with enough daylight leaking in he could make out floorboards.

‘OK, let’s head in and leave the hatch open.’

They both descended into Malum’s building, Lan more fluidly than Fulcrom, and they left the hatch half open so that they could see what they were doing. They found themselves in an attic space, with old fishing crates, nets, buoys and paintings all gathering dust. Some of the floorboards seemed rotten, and Fulcrom cautiously tested them with his foot before applying his weight.

‘So where next?’ Lan whispered.

‘We listen and we wait.’

They nestled themselves in one corner and, from their position sitting on the floor, Fulcrom spotted a door. He gestured to it and, in hushed tones, said, ‘We can head through that if we want to hear more, but for now I suggest we just hang about for a while to see who’s around and find out what their plans are. Without the backing of a great force all we can do is spy on them and work out what they’re up to.’

‘Fun,’ Lan whispered sarcastically.

‘Hey, this is the dull side of working in the Inquisition — a lot of waiting around to see if something happens. It isn’t that glamorous.’

‘I’d better get used to it then,’ Lan replied, reclining with a sigh.

A door slammed somewhere down below.

Lan and Fulcrom snapped to attention, Fulcrom’s heart beating quickly now. Voices drifted up from below, commanding tones, precise instructions.

‘It’s him,’ Fulcrom whispered. ‘It must be.’

‘How long have we been here now?’

‘No idea.’ Fulcrom stood up, brushed himself down and looked up at the hatch. The sun had moved significantly since they had entered the building. ‘I reckon at least three hours.’

‘You were right, this is dull work.’ Lan joined him as they moved towards the door.

Fulcrom pressed his ear against the wood.

Malum. . we’ve got most. . east city.

Killed ten soldiers already, bodies dumped in the harbour.

When shall we start?

More time. More numbers? We’ve thousands right?

Military. . unguarded.

Empress? Haven’t seen her for weeks.

Fulcrom peeled back a minute later, when the people who had entered the building began laughing about something else.

‘Well?’ Lan asked. ‘I say we head down there and get them now.’

‘We don’t know how many are down there and how well armed they are. We’re not an army.’