City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [131]
A couple of minutes later, the drinks were brought to the table.
‘Now then, there’s not too many rumel coming to Villiren these days,’ Bellis declared. There was an air of refinement about her, yet overwritten by occasional uncouthness, and Jeryd immediately liked her for this; though he didn’t quite know what to make of it when, with a flourish, she whipped out a hip flask and splashed some of the contents into her tea. ‘Sherry?’ she offered.
Jeryd shook his head.
‘Yes, as I was saying, do you find, sir, any hostility to your being here?’ She slurped her drink like it was the first she’d tasted in days.
‘You get a little animosity, but I just shrug it off. You got a bit in Villjamur, too, where I’m from, but it was a rather repressive city. Women were treated even worse than us rumel, so it never bothered me once you see how corrupt male human society can be. Nah, I suppose I’ve been around far too long to let that sort of thing get to me.’
‘A veteran of sorts, then?’ Bellis chuckled.
‘Seen over two hundred summers, actually,’ Jeryd commented dryly. ‘You start to see life with a little more clarity once you’re past your hundred and fiftieth year.’
‘Hear that, Abaris,’ she nudged her companion exuberantly. ‘We’re just children compared with him. Children!’
Abaris brushed his grey moustache, with a smile. Even Ramon, still silent, seemed to show something in his stark expression.
‘So what are you all doing in this city?’ Jeryd enquired.
Bellis told their story, with constant interruptions and corrections from Abaris. Ramon never said a word throughout, and now and then he and Abaris would share the odd glance. They belonged to the Order of the Grey Hairs, just the three of them, an unofficial and relatively new sect of cultists. They had been sick and tired of the younger men and women belonging to their previous orders, sick of the suggestion that their age meant they were out of touch. The younger ones were so competitive, so determined to prove their worth – often killing themselves through indulging in reckless experiments that went wrong. Five years ago, they had left Villjamur to search out some of the more esoteric folklore of the Boreal Archipelago. Age had brought them unparalleled experience and wisdom and they were constantly drawn to the unknown and the unlikely.
‘And it’s just the three of you?’ Jeryd wondered about the fact that a woman would travel with these two men everywhere. Were they related? Was one of them her partner and, if so, how did the third one feel about this arrangement?
She suddenly guffawed outrageously, her jangling voice attracting way too much attention for his liking. ‘I know what you must be thinking, investigator – here we are, all free single adults. We are none of us together in any respect, other than to pursue our chosen business.’
Jeryd reckoned that didn’t seem right, but he decided to ignore that suspicion for now. ‘And why come to Villiren with the threat of war? Plenty of other, safer places to be.’
‘We might ask the same of you, sir,’ Abaris remarked, pushing up the brim of his flat cap.
‘I’ll give you that,’ Jeryd conceded. ‘Suffice to say I’ve poked my nose in too many awkward situations before. Unlikely though it seems, for me this place might be safest.’
Abaris laughed, seeming to like the element of the rogue in Jeryd. ‘Well, we’re here looking for something. Just like we always does. Only thing is, it ain’t proving quite that easy to find, let alone raise—’
Bellis interrupted. ‘Abaris, you old sod, remember the investigator is a busy man! And, so, what can we do for Investigator Jeryd? You couldn’t have brought us here just to listen to us waffling about our personal histories.’
Jeryd paused for a moment, contemplating why they did not want him to know what they were up to. ‘I’ve come across a very interesting case and realize that I might need a little help with something rather beyond my means. How would I go