Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [186]
His colleague Fulcrom entered the room. “Have you heard these extraordinary rumors about the Empress and her sister? They’re planning to execute them on the city wall tomorrow evening.”
Jeryd whistled in astonishment. “Whose call?”
“Council decision, it seems. The arch-inquisitor approved the judgment apparently. She was planning to have all the refugees killed, but was arrested at the Snow Ball by the chancellor, who intercepted her plans and put both Rika and Eir on trial late last night. Quite the show apparently. They tried to deny it, but the documents were there for all to see, and many of the councilors confessed that Rika had approached them, consulting on issues like disposing of bodies and the likes. Some claimed that the sisters had issued beatings from guards to silence them, and one guard—someone I’m sure has links to Urtica—admitted this. They said they were glad of the opportunity to get it all out in the open. They praised Urtica for his guile in seeing that the Empire’s people were safe. And despite all this stuff on the surface, deep down in the heart of the city, it seems people really are being taken in to be killed.”
Jeryd took it all in, nodding slowly, not really surprised, but it didn’t stop him feeling disgusted over what went on up there, in that black vault of Balmacara. “It couldn’t be Lady Rika that organized the underground killings. It just couldn’t be.”
“No,” Fulcrom agreed. “I reckon this is to do with certain councilors … and Ovinists. It’s something much darker to take advantage of this distraction. It’s all been worked out in complex detail, so whoever’s in the Ovinists … well, they’re certainly smart.”
Jeryd said, “This is Urtica’s work, all right, all of it, and we’ve not got one damn piece of evidence against him. Our only witness, if you can call her that, is both a prostitute and a murderer, and if we say a single word out of line, we’ll be thrown in some cell and forgotten about—that’s if we’re lucky. Urtica must have a huge network of his damn cult in operation, from laborers to Inquisition personnel to councilors. The trial’s got to be a smoke screen, something to focus everyone’s attention on while he’s engaged in the business of genocide.”
Fulcrom added, “Updates are being nailed to the doors of every tavern in the city, and even after midnight I saw a huge crowd around one.”
“Did you see what it said?”
“Said something about the dark Empress turning on her own people. If he genuinely has organized all this, then he’s the master propagandist. I can’t believe the audacity.”
Jeryd laughed. “If you’ve known politicians for as long as I have.” He shook his head, remembering the news stories that the Inquisition had to keep under wraps for the good of the people so they were told. Cover-ups of the murders of union leaders, the provision of weaponry to various rival tribes to destabilize a region, servants charged with spying. “They were bad enough before these Ovinists got involved, the ubiquitous bastards.”
Fulcrom frowned. “Ovinists are everywhere,” he said. “Can we even trust each other?”
During the pause, the two rumel eyed each other steadily, knowing the question was totally unnecessary. Jeryd chuckled to himself and muttered, “Fulcrom, if I was an Ovinist, the first thing I’d do would be to make sure I was in a better job than this.”
Fulcrom seemed to like that.
Jeryd continued, “So who the hell d’you think will take over the Jamur Empire? Can you imagine that pompous git Urtica being in charge?”
Fulcrom shrugged. “Not our call to make.”
“No, indeed.” Jeryd took a moment to rid himself of splenetic thoughts. “So, to business. We’ve got some people to save.”
Fulcrom moved nearer to Jeryd. “Soldiers have made some movements around one of the tunnels. It’s the one they’re letting the first wave of refugees into, and it’s one of the older tunnels. I’ve got it marked on a map.”
“Good,” Jeryd said. “Any idea how many?” So this is it. It’s really happening.
Fulcrom shook his head. “No, all I got was the tip-off. As for some