City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [174]
‘All right.’ The man palmed the air dismissively. ‘We just have to follow rules.’
If things were this bad now, how much worse would they get as this invasion progressed? The rumel were a minority group here, and he could do without being considered sinister. As his indignation abated, he realized this young soldier was merely following orders. Perhaps a quiet word with Commander Lathraea was called for.
His instructions directed him to a different line from the others. Apparently his position in the Inquisition had made him a valuable asset: he would be rewarded with command of his own unit. Very quickly he discovered he was joining a group of other rumel, and they nodded an acknowledgement as he greeted them. There were maybe fifty in all, moving forward to an armament point. On finally arriving where he was supposed to be, Jeryd found a Night Guard officer calling out instructions in a vast chamber piled high with weapons.
Jeryd showed him his medallion, for what it was worth any more, and this time was shown no discourtesy for being a rumel.
Investigator Jeryd now Lieutenant Jeryd – platoon leader of Rumel Irregulars One. Three of the others he recognized from the Inquisition headquarters in Villiren, but there were at least thirty other men and women under his command. All were armed with basic crossbows and cultist-developed munitions, and he learned that because of their tough skins, they would be required for sniping and guerrilla operations in exposed positions, or for holding blockades after nightfall. They were fitted out with crude uniforms and white sashes featuring the seven-pointed star of the Jamur Empire, then Jeryd was briefed on what was required of him.
It all happened so quickly, this business of going to war – Commander Lathraea suddenly appeared, the crowd peeling back to let him through as if they were frightened of this pale-skinned ghostly vision.
‘Investigator, a word please.’
‘Surely I’m lieutenant now,’ Jeryd joked. ‘What can I do for you?’
*
They took two stout horses and rode back towards the Inquisition headquarters, thankful that the snow had momentarily ceased.
Jeryd asked the question of why the troops were giving the rumel a hard time. But the commander coolly stated that the enemy consisted of a number of rumel troops, albeit of a different nature, and that they must check none infiltrated the Imperial lines by stealth. Once they arrived, Jeryd led him to the arch-inquisitor of Villiren, an ancient grey-skinned rumel who seemed barely able to stand. In a dust-polluted, wood-panelled chamber, littered with legal texts, two assistants helped the antiquated rumel into his chair, then left them alone. They sat down facing the desk.
Brynd didn’t waste any time: ‘Sir, as you may know, we have now imposed military law over much of the city.’
The arch-inquisitor wheezed softly and nodded. ‘You wish to make a point of it, so as to make matters easier. I quite understand.’
Brynd offered a rare smile. ‘Indeed. I believe you have two prisoners in custody, awaiting trial for execution – the Doctor Voland case.’
‘Investigator Jeryd was truly assiduous in that matter and has done this institution proud.’
Compliments did not sit well with Jeryd, but he gave a coy smile anyway.
‘I don’t doubt that, sir,’ Brynd continued. ‘But I come to you with a strange request, and it’s possibly one you may not like.’
‘Go on . . .’
‘I am led to believe that these two individuals are rather unique. But given the nature of our current military engagements, I may have a use for them.’
‘A use?’ Jeryd spluttered incredulously. ‘They’re fit for nothing.’
‘On the contrary,’ Brynd declared. ‘I wish them to be released immediately.’
Jeryd almost spat his tea across the table. ‘Are you insane? Why the hell would you want to release that serial killer and . . . that monster?’
FORTY-FIVE
Nanzi, in her spider form, lumbered awkwardly over the rubble, deep into the city and deeper into the night.