Burying the Shadow (65 page)

‘Salyon, do
the eloim kill people regularly; you know, just people off the
street, non-patrons?’

His head
jerked up, and he blinked. ‘No, never, I’m sure of it! The only
deaths they cause are those of the sacrifices, which the patrons
give them as holy gifts, as a mark of trust and faith. These the
eloim drain of life but, as I told you, all such sacrifices have to
be voluntary. Eloim do not kill the unwilling.’

I was relieved
to hear that, which must have showed on my face.

‘But does that
make them any less parasitical?’ Salyon asked urgently. ‘Once you
have been touched by them, it becomes an addiction. Whether it is
bad for you or not, it still puts you in a vulnerable position.
Life loses all meaning, but for the sup. You must believe
that.’

I nodded
slowly, and took a sip of brandy. ‘Would you say the eloim desire
more power, more freedom?’

‘Yes,’ he
said. ‘I’m sure they do. Some eloim, more than others. When we
speak of the artisans, we cannot speak of a single mind, a single
purpose. They are like us, in that respect.’ He leaned towards me
and lowered his voice, even though we had not been speaking very
loudly. ‘I forced Livvy to tell me what you spoke to her about. She
said you had seen strange things in Khalt, that you had been
followed to Sacramante. I know what is going on, Rayojini!’

His hands were
shaking, and I felt a tug of distaste for his vehemence, but also
sadness, because I sensed there was sickness within this man’s
soulscape still, despite all that Ushas had done for him so many
years before. ‘Any theory, at this point, would be most welcome,’ I
said. My brandy was finished. I raised my hand to attract the
bartender and order another.

‘The artisans
are going mad,’ he declared, with an air of triumph. ‘They are
becoming dangerous, which is, of course, a reaction to their
mindsickness.’

‘Dangerous in
what way?’

His face
assumed a closed, sly expression. ‘I have no proof,’ he said, ‘but
it seems obvious to me that once the eloim’s disguise has been
penetrated, they will be forced to rise up and take control of
Sacramante. Izobella is their creature; she would not oppose it,
I’m sure. Like us, self-preservation must be of prime importance to
the eloim. I do not think they are naturally malevolent, but they
will certainly want to protect themselves.’

I nodded.
There was some sense in that, I suppose. It allowed for both
Avirzah’e’s and Keea’s explanations to be honest ones. ‘Do you know
Gimel and Beth Metatronim?’ I asked.

Salyon rubbed
his arms, and gulped audibly. ‘I knew you would ask that. They are
friends of the Sarim. Their father, Metatron, is a powerful figure
among the eloim. I admire them greatly as artists, of course.’

My brandy
arrived without me having to do more than raise a hand. They were
already used to my tastes in this place. ‘Are the Metatronims
suffering from the sickness too?’ I asked, once the bartender had
gone.

Salyon
shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Surely, you would be more aware of that.
Neither Beth or Gimel have been much in evidence lately.’

I felt quite
breathless. Here was someone, who wasn’t an artisan themselves, who
had seen the Metatronims, perhaps even talked to them. I realised
my interest in Beth and Gimel had become more acute since my
meeting with Avirzah’e. Had I dreamed of them last night? I
couldn’t remember. It seemed, however, that Salyon thought I knew
more about them than I did. ‘What will the patron families do if
the eloim
do
try to attain more power?’ I asked. ‘How will
the eloim subjugate everyone who isn’t a patron? Will the patrons
fight with them as allies against their own people, other
humans?’

‘How can I
answer those questions?’ Salyon said sharply.

‘What have you
really come here for?’ I asked.

A wily grin
crept across his face. ‘I might ask you the same thing,’ he
replied. ‘All these years, I’ve thought of you. All these years.
You want to know what pulled me out of the darkness, when I was so
sick? I’ll tell you. I saw you with the Metatronim, Rayojini! I
know you were his lover. It was as if a door opened in my mind, and
I saw you there, lying beneath him. It woke me up.’

‘How did you
see that?’ I snapped.

He shrugged.
‘You know how! Oh, don’t try to deceive me any longer. I’ve
uncovered your plot!’

‘What
plot?’

He leaned
closer towards me. ‘I know the Taps are poised to take the place of
the patron families. It’s true, isn’t it?’

‘What?’ For
one dreadful moment, I wondered whether that could possibly be
true, and the reason why answers to the puzzle had eluded me. My
own people working against me? Then, I looked at the crazed,
fanatical light in Salyon’s eyes.
Be sensible, Rayojini
, I
told myself. ‘Why do you think this?’ I asked in a reasonable
tone.

‘That’s
obvious!’ Salyon said. ‘I have heard the rumours that the eloim
have a soulscaper they are planning to use. They think a Tap will
be able to cure them of their mindsickness. But they’ll still need
strong allies if they have to fight their human opponents, won’t
they? I worked it out myself: the Taps would increase their own
power tenfold if they had access to eloim ichor. It would be a
mutually advantageous plan. You are the vanguard, Mistress
Rayojini, aren’t you? And I have unmasked you! What do you say to
that?’

Precisely
nothing. I stared at him, aghast, both smiles and expletives
hovering round my mouth. Salyon took my silence for
encouragement.

‘I have no
affinity for my own people, Rayojini. You must protect me when the
new order comes. We are empathic with each other. Through you, I
can experience what is denied me in waking life. In return, I will
help you in whatever way I can. No one will suspect; I can give you
information about the patron families. I can help you get rid of
them! Well? What do you say?’

I blinked at
him in astonishment for a few moments. Had I really considered this
person sane? ‘Salyon, you have an excess of creativity that I’m
sure even an artisan would envy! Your fantasies are indeed
intriguing, even though they are insulting to my people. I don’t
take offence easily - fortunately for you. If I had more time, I
would suggest you commission me to sort out your deluded head!
Alas, I have more pressing matters to attend to at present.’

He stared at
me, open-mouthed. ‘Does... does that mean my theory was wrong?’ he
said, and then his face closed up again. ‘Ah, but you would say
that, wouldn’t you.’ He tapped his nose. ‘Don’t worry, Rayojini,
your secret is safe with me!’

I suppressed
an urge to strike him and, without a further word - why should I
waste more of my breath? - stood up and walked out of the room. I
sensed him leaping up behind me, but I swiftly scurried into the
entrance hall, and hissed a quick, ‘Get rid of that lunatic!’ at
Terissa.

She looked up
from her ledger in affront, ready to scold me, I think, for my
earlier terseness. Fortunately, she understood the expression on my
face and nodded. ‘Go upstairs,’ she said.

I did so.
Quickly.

The lunacy of
Salyon Tricante was the last thing I needed at that time, even
though my training demanded that I should offer help to any needy
individual. Unfortunately, my immediate future required all of my
attention, and I could not afford the distraction of a scaping
case. I went to my room, and paced about, laughing to myself in the
way that can very easily convert into tears. I would have to speak
with Gimel now. No! She had attacked me on the road in Khalt. It
hadn’t been her. It had. It had. What was pantomime and what was
real? Had the entire world shifted on its axis into a wobbling
rhythm of sheer madness? How much more of this could I take? Where
was Avirzah’e? Where was Keea? Where, for that matter, was I? A
knock on the door alarmed me so severely I felt as if I was about
to shed my entire skin in one piece.

Terissa put
her nose into the room. ‘He’s gone,’ she said. ‘Are you alright,
Rayo?’

‘No, I need a
drink,’ I replied. ‘Can you bring me one?’

She nodded.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

I shrugged. ‘I
don’t know. I’m expecting other visitors. Let me know immediately
if any of them show up.’

‘I will.’

My answer
clearly did not satisfy her. I grinned sweetly. ‘I’m sorry I was a
bit sharp with you. Things have been a little odd today. It’s a
hazard of my profession. Salyon Tricante was a potential client,
but...’ I shrugged. ‘His sickness isn’t one I want to cure
particularly.’ It was a feeble excuse.

‘I’ll bring
you some brandy,’ Terissa said, with a knowing, sympathetic smile.
I was relieved she didn’t query why I would turn down a commission.
She closed the door and I resumed my pacing. What if Keea got here
before Avirzah’e did? What then? The next moment I found myself at
the top of the stairs yelling down to Terissa to bring me paper and
a quill, along with the brandy.

‘Wait while I
write this,’ I said, when Terissa returned. ‘I need it delivered.’
She tried to peer over my shoulder, so I hunched over the paper and
wrote quickly. I am surrounded by fanatics, I scribbled. If this
means nothing to you, then I am one of them, and please accept my
apologies for this intrusion. If, on the other hand, this does mean
something to you, please contact me quickly. I am at
The Temple
Gate
inn.

I signed it lavishly
with my name and slid the paper into the envelope that Terissa had
thoughtfully provided. ‘Bring me wax!’ I demanded.

Once sealed, I
wrote the words ‘Gimel Metatronim’ on the front of the envelope,
with shaking hands. ‘Take this to the atelier courts,’ I said,
thrusting an inordinately generous amount of loose coin I’d had
lying on the bedside table into Terissa’s hands. ‘Immediately.’

Terissa took
the envelope with less enthusiasm than she had for the money. ‘I
cannot get inside the atelier courts,’ she said. ‘I will have to
leave it at the gates.’

‘Do whatever
you can,’ I said, ‘but hurry. It’s very important, Terissa. I can’t
tell you how much.’

She smiled
bravely at my appeal. ‘I’ll take it.’ She put the coins into the
pocket of her apron.

To occupy
myself, I began to pack my belongings into my carryback. Best to be
prepared for any eventuality. Terissa had brought me a flask of
brandy and a glass. After draining the glass at once, I began to
swig from the flask. Still no sign of Keea or Avirzah’e. I would go
mad if one or the other of them didn’t turn up soon. Perhaps they
had met each other. Perhaps one had killed the other. Perhaps they
didn’t exist at all and I had hallucinated the whole thing. I
finished the brandy and sat on the bed. I would count to five
hundred and then go downstairs. If no one had come for me by then,
I would... What? What could I do?

I reached two
hundred and seventy-five and there was a knock on my door. For a
second, I stared at it in disbelief and then leapt up, ran across
the room and yanked the door open. Keea? Avirzah’e? No. One of the
inn’s junior maids was standing there gawking at me. ‘What is it?’
I demanded.

‘A... a
visitor for you, madam,’ she stuttered.

‘Where?’

‘In the salon,
Mistress. A woman.’

‘Right!’ I ran
past her and flung myself down the stairs, causing heads to turn as
I stampeded into the salon.

‘Where is
she?’ I cried.

People sitting
in idle contemplation of newssheets and each other looked up in
surprise. Eyebrows were raised. A flurry of murmurs flowed around
the room. Gimel was not there. No one was there, that I recognised,
and certainly no artisans. I ran back to the serving maid who was
still coming down the stairs. I grabbed her roughly. ‘Where is
she?’ I demanded, shaking her a little.

‘There!’ The
girl pointed over my shoulder, her eyes round with fright.

‘Where?’

I turned
round. There was no one there. I shook the girl again. ‘Where?
Where?’

‘She went
outside. Out the door. Oh, let me go, Mistress, you’re hurting
me!’

Uttering a
heartfelt curse, I dropped the girl like a rag and hurried outside.
The alley was full of people milling about. I shoved them violently
out of my way, but there was no sign of any recognisable visitor.
No sign! Helplessly, I went back into the inn, stomped past the
wilting serving-maid, who flinched away from me, and dashed
upstairs. In my room, I put on my hat and coat. For a moment, I
considered strapping on my carryback, but rejected the idea, and
stowed it in a cupboard instead. Then, I ran downstairs and rang
the counter bell repeatedly until the innkeeper himself
appeared.

‘Money,’ I
said. ‘I need funds. Urgently.’

‘You upset one
of my lasses,’ he began, folding his arms. I had a feeling the
staff of
The Temple Gate
were becoming tired of my erratic
and eccentric behaviour. I did not care.

‘Give me my
money!’ I said.

‘Are you
leaving us, then?’

‘No, keep the
room ready. My things are there. Just give me a hundred dahli.’ He
did not move but stared at me belligerently. I attempted a
mollifying smile. ‘I’m sorry. I have important work to attend to.
Very important. Life or death. Please, I need the money.’

The innkeeper
sighed, and unfolded his arms. ‘I’ll see what I have out back,
then,’ he said and went deliberately slowly through the door behind
the counter.

‘Hurry!’ I
called after him. ‘I’ll be in the bar.’

I ordered
another brandy, hoping to calm my nerves. Why wasn’t alcohol
affecting me today? I knew in my guts that something,
something
, was going to happen soon and I needed to be ready
for it.

The innkeeper
brought me a bag of coins, which seemed suspiciously heavy,
indicating he had filled it with small change. Not bothering to
count it, I tied the bag to my belt. The innkeeper watched me
stonily as I struggled to tie a knot with fingers that had suddenly
become independent of my nervous system.