City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [19]
There was no reason why such flattery should be anything other than that to be expected from the young or naive. If only she knew how out of touch he felt, and how he simply could not understand the mechanisms of the world any more. Hell, he could barely understand himself any longer. ‘Come in, please, take a seat.’
‘Thank you.’ Walking past him, she graced him with a whiff of gentle perfume, a little vanilla musk. Her steps were lively, although slightly halting, as if she was recovering from a limp.
He first asked her for her name.
‘Nanzi.’
‘That’s a beautiful and unusual name. As you know I’m Investigator Rumex Jeryd – just arrived in the city. Worked in the Villjamur Inquisition for a hundred and eighty years, and have seen a lot in that time.’ It was growing on him fast, the idea that someone wanted to learn from him. It brought a new consistency to daily proceedings and he soon forgot his reservations about her being a her.
‘The good investigator,’ he continued, ‘does not merely stand still. He never accepts what he learns to be absolute and final. Same with anything else in life. Those who are more prepared for change generally get on, while those who don’t . . . they’re forgotten quickly, left to rot.’
She nodded, took out a small notepad, began detailing what he said. This went on for a quarter of an hour, these introductory notes, a little wisdom to kick things off, things that might or might not be of direct help but needed to be stated anyway, if only for him to articulate them for himself.
Jeryd was beginning to like Nanzi more and more. He told her about his first possible case in his new city, about the albino who’d come to his door in the middle of the night whispering his name. She offered no opinion.
Jeryd said, ‘I’ll need, most of all, someone to show me around the city. You know this place well?’
‘I’ve been here a few years now,’ she admitted, ‘but in that time I’ve come to know nearly every passageway, every stall, every cobble, every cobweb.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather get out of here with the coming fighting?’ Jeryd felt a sudden curiosity about why people were in Villiren at all.
‘Where else would we all go?’ she asked. ‘No one is going to take their chances out in the wilderness, in this weather. None of the other major cities are likely to let anyone in, so all people here have is this place. It might not be pretty here, but there is a great sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, even. And with that comes pride. It’s long been a city of immigrants – from all over these eastern islands. I, myself, am not from here, and I have no family left, so this city is a haven for people like me, who needed to rebuild themselves.’
Jeryd contemplated her words. Maybe he had been quick to judge the city, too quick to think it lacked soul. As he had said himself moments earlier, those who were more prepared for change generally got on better.
*
As they made their way onto the streets heading towards the citadel and the barracks, Jeryd asked Nanzi more about her background, discovering how she had previously travelled around the Archipelago, even found a partner and settled down. Nanzi continued to walk with that distinctive limp, and it made Jeryd speculate on how she might have acquired such an impediment. ‘Were you injured in the line of duty?’
A pause, a distant gaze. ‘An accident, years ago. It still pains me, if I’m honest, but I’m much better off now than before. Working here is good – not too physically demanding, and I get out and about. That takes my mind off my own problems, which are nothing in comparison with some of the things we see here in Villiren.’
‘A noble sentiment. How long have you worked for the Inquisition?’
‘Not very long. But, given my accident, I realized how life is short – and I wanted to do some good by serving the city. I want to help wherever I can, to do the right thing for humanity. The Inquisition here is not as efficient or as good-intentioned as I would