City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [20]
‘The good investigator,’ Jeryd declared, ‘is always motivated by positive goals. In the end, when people start to argue over intricacies of the law, all you have is your integrity to fall back on.’
‘Things are rather relaxed in the Inquisition here,’ she observed, ‘too much so. Perhaps crimes go unsolved, some not even investigated. The Freeze has changed our priorities to more administrative matters. Many cases still need sorting out. The rumel who work here as investigators are just not interested any more. With the war coming, many such cases simply have had to be overlooked. Burglaries are never talked about, rapes never followed up – women, I find, are particularly hard done by in the culture here – but in some tribal communities you hear of worse. I do what I can in difficult circumstances. And then there are all those missing people . . .’
‘People vanish all the time,’ he remarked. ‘The good investigator knows that. He has to start off at the source of information, because if people want to disappear hard enough, they will manage to do so. It’s easy enough never to be seen again. Your source will quickly give you a hint as to whether you are wasting your time. A good investigator cannot afford to waste his time.’
‘Or hers.’
‘Whose?’ Jeryd said, momentarily puzzled.
‘Cannot waste his or her time.’
‘Right,’ he conceded.
‘Anyway,’ she continued. ‘That is why I was excited when I heard that an investigator from Villjamur was heading our way. I hope to learn from your experiences there, but I do not know why you left such a prestigious place just to come here.’
‘Sometimes we haven’t got the choice, Nanzi, because things get decided for you.’ And this dive was the only place I could get to work in, simply because of their casual attitude to the Empire’s laws.
*
As they made their way to the barracks, along those rigidly alignetreets of the city, now and then she would stop to introduce Jeryd to a trader, or a tavern owner, which was something he appreciated, being so keen to become a familiar face with the locals. He adopted a friendly tone towards them, and they chatted back readily. One woman who was running a textile shop even offered nervously to pay him a bribe, as if he was involved in a street gang. A protection racket, perhaps? Nanzi had implied such shenanigans went on, but were the Inquisition involved too?
The final approach presented them with a glorious view encompassing numerous shades of white and grey, where the city met the sea met the skies. Accumulating force between the cliffs bordering the harbour, icy winds assaulted the Citadel violently. Jeryd had to keep a tight grip on his new hat. Nanzi led him up the final stairway to the vast Citadel directly at the front of the city, a decrepit and fortress-residence facing the sea. He couldn’t believe how massive it was, getting on for twenty storeys high. Many different shades of rock had been used in its construction – from the speckled texture of granite to the smoothness of sandstone. Despite its vast, towering facades, crowded with spiked crenellations, the light mist of drizzle and gentle fog seemed to lend it an ethereal, almost otherworldly quality. Access was gained by several wide, shallow-stepped staircases, and the thin rectangles of lantern-illuminated windows were ranged regularly along each side. This was a place where you felt you wanted to be on the inside, certainly, and Fat Lutto, the portreeve of Villiren, lived here, as did the Night Guard, who had made it their headquarters. Other contingents of soldiers were arriving daily, though housed on levels lower down, but most were still gathered in camps to the south of the city.
*
Now this was impressive: a room surfaced all over with obsidian. Thame reddish volcanic glass also lined some of the main chambers i dazzling display of craftsmanship. Sure, some of the rooms anorridors he’d passed through were pretty deteriorated, with old stonhat was falling apart like in Villjamur, but now and again there’d bome fancy section