Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [171]
Both rumel stared out at the familiar evening scene. Theirs would be no easy task, but it was the right thing to do. Jeryd felt a great sadness at the corruption overtaking his beloved city. All that mattered now was that he would do all he could.
CHAPTER 41
ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE MELANCHOLY NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR, IN WHICH a pterodette called out across the city’s spires so loudly it sounded like a banshee. Up here on the top floor of the Imperial residence, starlight clearly defined the rooftops, meaning the evening would be cold and cloudless. Incense burned somewhere, mere hints of it on the breeze, prompting thoughts of some wild ritual being performed in a forgotten corner of the city.
Tryst loved this city and he could easily see how it invoked such passions in people—in Chancellor Urtica, in himself. Raising a corner of the tapestry preserving the still warmth of the chamber, he stared idly out of a window, waiting for Urtica to arrive. There were occasions, in the chancellor’s presence, when Tryst felt so much reverence for him that he wanted to be part of his consciousness and see the world through his master’s eyes.
The door opened and Urtica marched into the ornate room, with its glittering trinkets arranged around the immense fireplace.
“Sele of Jamur, chancellor,” Tryst greeted him.
“What happened to your face?” Urtica paused as he moved closer. “A fight I suspect? I hope you’re not attracting too much unwarranted attention.”
“No, not at all. It was just … well Investigator Jeryd had some sharp words to say to me.”
“What about?”
Tryst met his gaze boldly as they eyed each other across the glow of the flames. Tryst had used Tuya to all advantage, now simply wanted her out of the way. He probably would have killed her if she hadn’t escaped him and run to Jeryd. Now the damned rumel knew everything. No matter, Tryst would soon have her hunted down, with a reward on her head. “I strongly believe that a prostitute is responsible for the councilor murders.”
“A prostitute?” Urtica wore a look of utter amazement on his face.
“Yes, from what I gather, Ghuda spilled certain secrets across a pillow. Disclosures that linked him with you, sir. She learned about your plans for the removal of refugees. She knows who was involved and decided to take matters into her own hands.”
Urtica interrupted, “We can’t have her blabbing such rumors in case she brings attention to me. She must be removed promptly.” The chancellor paused. “Does Jeryd also know of this?”
“I’m afraid so,” Tryst said, feeling guilt now for having put his own interests above those of the chancellor. “You see, I had her under confinement, but he took her off my hands. I merely wanted to protect your honor, sir.”
Tryst watched his idol with hope, heart thumping in his chest.
“Very good, young Tryst, you did well.”
“Sir, I’d do anything for you,” Tryst said eagerly. “Anything.”
“Still I need to be able to trust you totally. I’ve seen that you’re a sharp man, but can you be loyal?”
“Of course,” he breathed.
The chancellor paced back and forth before the flames. “Good. Then I want you to kill both Investigator Jeryd and this prostitute. They must not have the chance to inform others.” He leaned forward, continued with a whisper. “Now, I’m about to initiate my plans with the Empress Rika. She’ll be arrested tomorrow at the Snow Ball for maximum publicity, with an order for her execution coming the following day. All the Ovinist councilors are ready to support me. Tomorrow night some Ovinist colleagues in the military will begin guiding in some of the refugees in small numbers to meet their fate, all on the quiet of course. They’ll make use of some of the precarious tunnels under the city—and it doesn’t matter if they collapse on them, does it? They’ll think they’re been taken to temporary housing within the city, and we can finally start poisoning them one by one. As they are dying we can move them to tunnels nearer the coast. Then I think we can just dump them out at sea. Tryst, I want you there with me, at the center