Greg Keyes - Lord of Souls

She thought about that, and then found herself answering carefully.

“I could,” she said. “It’s easy for me to sneak the things I need to make an ounce or two of anything. But you would need more than that-a lot more than that-to make a difference. I would have to set up a generation vat. I don’t think I can do that without permission, but if I managed to, it would be noticed and I would be in big trouble.”

“Maybe you can get permission,” he said.

“If I bring up the skraws, Toel will wonder why I know anything about them and why I care. He considers caring a weakness, and he already thinks I’m about as weak as they come. And he might find out about you.” She paused, and then went on even more cautiously. “Anyway-our goal is to bring Umbriel down, remember? Before it destroys our world?”

“The skraws don’t have anything to do with that,” he said. “They just work and die.”

“Are you-” She laughed suddenly.

“What?”

“After all that making fun of me and my causes. You’ve got one, haven’t you?”

“They-They sort of made me their leader.”

“Why?”

“I told them we might be able to make things better if we-umm-organized a little.”

“Organized? You’re leading a revolt?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he replied miserably. “I mean, they kind of got the idea from me when I stood up to an overseer, and then-well, I might have suggested that they make some maps for me.”

“Maps?”

“So I could find you. So we could escape.”

“Oh. And now that we’re stuck here-”

“They seem to expect me to follow through.”

“Well, I guess they do,” she said. “Will you?”

His pupils expanded and shrank, and then he nodded. “I think so,” he said. “It’s not right, how they live.”

“You can think of it this way, too,” Annaig told him. “The more of them you’ve got looking for ways to sabotage things, the more likely you’ll find some way to stop Umbriel altogether. That connection with the ingenium you told me about, for instance. We need to know more about that.”

“Right,” he said, but he sounded a bit uneasy.

“Glim,” she said, taking his chin between her fingers.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you care about these people. I’m glad you found a cause. And if there is any way to save the skraws, I’m all for it. But if it comes down to them or our world-if all of these people and the two of us thrown into the bargain have to die to stop this thing-that’s what we have to do. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded, but there was an odd stiffness to it.

“Look,” she said. “The kitchens are highly competitive, right? If the skraws raise enough ruckus, the lords may start looking for an alternative to the vapors. I’ve got one, ready to go. I just need Toel to ask me for it-understand?”

“I understand,” Glim replied.

“We’ll start there. But meanwhile you have to keep gathering information, okay? I mean, if I solve the problem of getting us off of this rock, maybe we can take your friends with us. The more information I have, the more alternatives that gives us.”

“That makes sense,” Glim breathed. “I’ll see what I can do. But you-what about this woman who tried to kill you? What about Toel? If what you say is true, and if he thinks you’re weak-I don’t want to find you in the sump one day.”

“You have your situation to manage,” she said softly. “I have mine.”

She hugged him and watched him go, but she felt troubled afterward, wondering if she and Mere-Glim were really on the same side anymore.

A soft cough drew Colin from the papers massed on his desk. Intendant Marall stood a few feet from his table, hands clasped behind his back.

Colin pushed his chair back and came to his feet.

“Intendant,” he acknowledged.

“Inspector,” Marall nodded. Then he just stood there.

“Can I help you, sir?” Colin asked after the moment drew uncomfortably long.

“I’m just wondering if you have anything to report.”

Colin blinked.

If I had anything to report I would have-he began thinking, but quashed it, lest it show on his face.

“Not much, really, sir,” Colin said. “Is there something wrong?”

“You received the latest interceptions.”

“I did, Intendant,” he replied. “I still can’t find any connection between the Thalmor and this-flying city.”

“And yet they must be up to something.”

“Oh, yes, sir, they’re up to plenty,” Colin said. “Thalmor agents continue to harass the refugee communities in Sentinel and Balfiera-there has been a series of murders in the latter we can pretty confidently assign to them. The pattern is typical-the victims were all of mixed blood or had associations considered by the Aldmeri Dominion to be unclean. It’s much worse in Valenwood-our supplies are no longer reliably getting to the rebels there. Sixty were caught and executed last week, along with four of our own men. There’s a leak we don’t know about, someplace. They know too much about our movements.”

“But in all of that-”

“Nothing. No Thalmor connections to the east at all.”

Marall looked sour. He took the other chair in Colin’s nook, slid it toward Colin’s desk, and sat down.

“Have you seen the reports concerning the flying city?”

“I haven’t, sir. Since being taken off the Attrebus case-”

“I’m sorry about that. The more so because you were right about everything. But you made Administrator Vel look foolish, and there you go. At least I managed to get you back on something-eh-important.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“I’m going to tell you a few things, Inspector, because I hope you may have some thoughts on them. But you understand you may not repeat them.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’re aware, I imagine, of the stories in popular circulation concerning this-Umbriel.”

“I am. They are based, as I understand, on letters written by Prince Attrebus and sent to his biographers-before he vanished again.”

“Yes. They’ve rather captured the popular imagination. A flying city from Oblivion, populated by strange creatures, destroying all it passes over and creating an army of living dead from the corpses.”

“I’ve heard all of that.”

“Well, we’ve a good bit of information from our scouts now,” Marall said. “It’s all basically true. There are just a few new details. Umbriel-apparently the name of this thing-landed at Lilmoth and proceeded in a straight line toward, it appears, Vvardenfell. It is indeed accompanied by some sort of reanimated corpses, and those who die beneath it also rise again. But here’s the thing-the cities of Gideon and Stormhold were both overrun. Do you see what that means?”

“Neither lies between Lilmoth and Vvardenfell,” Colin answered after a moment’s thought.

“Correct. Apparently this army of the walking dead needn’t remain near its creator.”

“But do they continue to grow in numbers away from the island? Do they reproduce themselves?”

“That is unclear,” Marall replied. “What we do know is that a large force of them has entered Cyrodiil and seems to be making its way toward the Imperial City.”

“I see,” Colin said.

“Are you certain you’ve seen no evidence that they might be colluding with the Thalmor? If they strike from the east, and the Dominion from the west, or up the Niben, we could find ourselves in a very precarious state.”

“I’ve seen no evidence that the Thalmor are aware of these goings-on, much less that they are involved with them. Why-if I may ask, sir-why do you feel the Thalmor must be involved?”