Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [170]
They were clearly involved.
“Jeryd, that’s so awful,” Fulcrom said, after a moment’s silence. “But who is heading up the Ovinists in the Council?”
“Urtica,” Jeryd said bluntly.
“Chancellor Urtica?” Fulcrom said in dismay.
“The prostitute insists he was involved somehow. Amazing what a man will tell a woman across a pillow when their business is done.”
“I wouldn’t know too much about that,” Fulcrom admitted.
Jeryd grunted a laugh. “Anyway, something’s going to happen soon, but I don’t know when. For all I know it could be already happening.”
“I can’t believe we’ve got corruption at so high a level,” Fulcrom remarked. “It’s disgusting, when you consider these people have been voted in by our citizens.”
“The Council has always been about maintaining the illusion that a vote gives the people a say in affairs, when all the time they control communication—like generating fear against these helpless refugees. That a democracy? You tell me. But in such an organization the Ovinists would fit very well. What’s worse is that this cult has attracted so many powerful members. They could be operating anywhere—even in the Inquisition.”
“D’you really think people higher up in our own organization already know about it? The refugees, I mean.”
“It’s possible. Thing is, I don’t want thousands of innocent men, women, and children dying through the devious machinations of my Empire. Not in my name at least. I don’t care what the hell happens, but we’ve got to do the right thing. We must show ourselves to be good people.”
Good people …
He liked to think that there were some moral absolutes in the world, that Villjamur’s rulers had not been reduced to moral nihilism. That good was to be done and to be pursued, and evil avoided. Some things, to Jeryd, seemed natural, an essential part of existence.
It helped, being an investigator, to believe in law.
“What can we do?” Fulcrom rested his hands on the wall, staring out over the refugee encampment. “If something’s going on this high up the ranks … We’ll find ourselves on our own.”
“Probably. But, maybe you know other people we can trust?”
Fulcrom said, “Sure. Some good types in the Inquisition. I’ve inside contacts with the city guard, too, for that matter.”
“Good. I’m now going to organize weaponry of some sort. Meanwhile if you can ask every man in the Inquisition you can trust, to watch out for any unusual movement of men. It would need a sizeable operation to remove so many people from outside the city, so there’ll be plenty of visible activity. But we’ve got the law and morality on our side, so if anyone finds out what we’re doing, they’ll not be able to stop us easily.”
“Unless they kill us first,” Fulcrom suggested.
“Yes. Unless they kill us.”
“But still, if we don’t know how Urtica plans to achieve this massacre, it’ll remain difficult to foil his plans. How would one eliminate so many people without others soon knowing about it?”
Jeryd was silent as he reflected on this, and could not think of a plausible answer.
It had been a long time since Jeryd had been required to participate in an armed mission, and never on a scale such as this. The last time he had fired a crossbow was before Johynn was born, against a corrupt network of the city guard who were abusing their position to kidnap young girls in Caveside and sell them as sex slaves to private landowners on the outer islands.
This was not a bunch of renegades but the chancellor they were up against. Obviously Urtica was power-mad and hungry for control, prepared to go to any lengths to achieve his insane objectives. Clearly, in his eyes, removing the nuisance of the refugees was a good thing, reducing the strains on the city’s resources that would, ultimately, lead to great political unrest. For Urtica to retain his seat comfortably,