City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [132]
‘Depends how large we’re talking,’ Bellis said. ‘What, an armspan or so?’
‘Twice the height of an average man, at least.’ Jeryd let that statement hang in the air. The old cultists looked impressed at that, conveying their surprise in their swift glances to each other.
Jeryd went on to tell them about the disappearances, the silk webbing found around the city, the few witness statements. He did not yet reveal his fear but, as he related the events, he found himself becoming increasingly determined to overcome his phobia. The recent confirmation that something solid existed, no matter how outlandish its nature, gave him something to focus on.
‘Good healthy citizens are being abducted off the streets,’ Jeryd concluded, ‘and I’m the only one in the Inquisition who seems to give a damn.’
‘Well, slap me silly,’ Abaris said.
Ramon, sipping his drink, nodded sagely, never saying a thing.
‘Quite the predicament, sir,’ Bellis admitted. She reached for her hip flask and tipped her head back to guzzle what was left. She then stifled a belch, and eyed him as if to see what he made of her. Jeryd would have admitted to meeting classier ladies . . .
‘There are any number of possible origins,’ Bellis declared. ‘A hybrid, perhaps. Growth enhancements. It could even have evolved naturally and been imported from some collection of islands off the map! Though what possible competitive advantage its size would provide seems questionable. As for helping you, I’m sure we can think of something useful. You wish to destroy the creature, or simply ensnare it?’
‘I’d like to trap it first, then examine it, where it came from, what it’s doing here.’ He was starting to perspire. Even thinking about the giant spider sent a chill through his body.
‘I quite agree,’ Bellis declared. ‘Something so wonderfully alien ought to be investigated more thoroughly than would be possible just by a post-mortem, no?’
‘We’re being rather optimistic in even assuming it can possibly be caught. I’ve no idea where it nests, no idea where it takes its victims. Ideally, I’d like to track it back to its, what’s it called, its lair, just to see if there are even any survivors. So, do you really think you can help?’
Bellis grinned amiably. ‘Let’s have a while to think about it. But I suspect we can rustle something up, right, lads?’
‘You charge for your business?’ Jeryd asked.
‘Good heavens! We’re not like all those other cultists. We do not prostitute the power of relics, no. One cannot assign a mere monetary value to such things, sir.’
Refreshing, Jeryd thought, to find such an attitude anywhere in the Empire. ‘I’d be owing you a big favour. Is there anything I can offer in return?’
The cultists made eye contact with each other, then Abaris stroked his chin and said, ‘Maps?’ He paused, then explained: ‘We could do with a decent map of Villiren. You being in the Inquisition, like, you might find us something decent and all.’
‘Maps I can do,’ Jeryd confirmed. ‘I’ve assembled quite a collection while identifying where all these people disappeared. Feels like I know the damn city better through lines on paper than in real life.’
‘In many ways, that’s all it is,’ Bellis said. ‘But less theory. Sir, we will get you your spider-trap. Let’s meet again here in three days, at the same time.’
But he still had his secret shame to confess, and wondered if they might help him. ‘Bellis, there’s actually something else. It’s uh, a little private . . .’
*
‘And it’s just that, the touching that concerns you most?’
Jeryd nodded, embarrassed. It wasn’t easy to admit this, let alone talk about it. There was an awkwardness from merely opening this region of his mind. The fact that she was a woman helped.
‘Just the thought of it touching me and immediately I can’t cope. It’s their quickness and unpredictability. I don’t know what they’re going to do. I sound ridiculous. Some bloody Inquisition officer I am – to be terrified of spiders.’
Bellis clutched Jeryd’s hand in her