The story so far…
Lilian, Jem and Kinley are trying to escape a timeless city with deceit and danger on all sides. Lilian has just been judged guilty of blasphemy for conflating the demonic fight court with the city’s beloved philosopher. In the meantime, Kinley and Jem have escaped from a mob whilst clutching Jem’s foul-mouthed ancestral skull. On the way out, they discovered a weapons cache that belongs to the squad of soldiers they have befriended, calling into question the group’s true intentions.
You can read the last post here, or start from the beginning with The City On The Other Side. There are links at the bottom of each post that will jump you straight to the next chapter.
Lilian slumped slightly as she watched the turncoat soldiers being processed. They had been marched by Aeon’s court guard to an open space downstairs that looked like an amalgam of clerk's office ever built - desks, scrolls, ink stains and battered lights in each corner. A stuffed crow with jet stones for eyes had been placed at the window. The only jarring note was the iron railing nailed to the rear wall. Lilian was tethered to it whilst the others were led at a leisurely pace through their sentencing, service oath and a tattoo stamp on their right temple.
“Will this come off?” the blond soldier asked, alarmed as the clerk dipped the small row of iron needles in the ink.
The clerk sniffed dismissively.
“It fades over time. You will be fine.”
He turned back to the city guards waiting in the doorway. Unlike Alinakard’s keepers back at home - affable, sly and slightly overweight (except Kinley), they loomed over everyone in the room wearing the same blank look of disgust. It went well with the dark blue shirts and black tabards they wore.
“Take them to their duty,” the clerk ordered with a sigh. “If they fail to give you the hideout, take them to the docks.”
The lead guard nodded, with a slight smirk and yanked on the soldier’s chains causing them to stagger as they left the room.
The clerk clicked his tongue. “Petulentia guide them,” he muttered, staring after the group. He pushed back his glasses on top of his head and carefully tucked his long, grey locks behind his ears. Unlike most ageing men, he had not gone bald and his peppered moustache was a carefully combed thing of beauty on his face. He attempted to smile at Lilian. “Let’s arrange your contract, dear.”
Lilian straightened. “Who is Pentulentia?” she asked as he ambled over to unlock her iron cuffs.
“The spirit of hubris, little scholar. Best left to the men of violence, eh?” He walked back to his desk and picked up his stylus. “I see you will be working with us in the archives from now on.”
“Indeed,” Lilian replied. She strolled over, swaying her hips from side to side and made sure she stood next to the clerk where his eyes could see her flesh peeking out at the hip where the knotwork had disturbed her tabard. Her disguise was more suggestive than anything she had worn back home, and she intended to use it.
The clerk swallowed and averted his gaze.
“Archivists get paid at half the rate of scholars, but the city does provide lodgings,” he went on in a brisk tone. “I can include your board for - “
“No need,” a voice cut in, from the doorway. Lilian lifted her head to see Lord Aridius enter the room. Without the blue court mask, he looked quite handsome. “I want to subcontract this scholar to my own offices over at Celare Hill. It will save the city the expense of feeding her.”
The clerk’s mouth turned downwards. “We need more assistance over here, my lord. I have been asking for the last decade and it’s hard enough to find assistant clerks, let alone scholars.”
Aridius chuckled. “I’m happy to pay a half-dieum more on the official rates. That, plus the savings on her board means you can hire another assistant.”
The clerk tapped his stylus irresolutely on the desk. “It’s not the money, it’s the manpower,” he objected. “Everyone under the age of 25 is obsessed with our Founder’s Tower or trying to move north, up the river.”
Lilian decided to speak up. It was her future, after all. “Perhaps you can tempt them with something they can’t get elsewhere,” she offered lightly. “I would be happy to answer their questions after work each day.”
Aridius turned to scrutinise her and she got the impression that did not happen very often. “Just what are you offering,” he asked, his voice a shade deeper.
“I’m from Alinakard,” Lilian explained. “If your people want to go upstream, I can help. My city has been travelling and trading up there for centuries.”
“Interesting,” Aridius purred. He turned back to the court clerk. “I’m insisting. This scholar will be appointed to my household and I will reward your prompt help in this matter.”
The clerk offered another half-hearted objection which ended when Aridius pulled out a coin purse. Five minutes after that, Lilian was trotting behind her new employer, trying her best to keep up with his long stride.
Her mind was whirring. She had to somehow get a message to Kinley and Jem so they wouldn’t be caught up in the soldier’s mess, ahead of the city guards.
“I keep a table free at this tavern, for meetings like ours,” Aridius said, coming to an abrupt halt, under a sign of badly-painted grapes. “I don’t want the shadow of blasphemy or treason to come near my home. At the same time, things are stirring in this city and I need to know everything that you do. Is that understood?”
It was the opening Lilian needed. “I can offer you one better, my lord. If we hurry, I can show you what I know, instead.”
Aridius gave her a wry look. “Are you truly a scholar?”
“That is just one of my skills, my lord. Would you like to discover the others?”
*
Jem swore every third step. The water in her pails slopped from side to side, drenching her skirt, sandals and the cobblestones. At this rate, Kinley reflected, the buckets would be empty by the time they crested the hill. He was carrying half a bale of straw, quietly purloined from the back of the market stalls. It made people swerve the pair, sometimes with a muttered curse and glare, but no-one questioned why they were there. Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight.
“Here’s hoping yer girl had better luck ‘n us,” he ventured to Jem. They were reaching the outskirts of the city, with the paving slabs falling to the mud and grass. Thanks to Aeon’s odd topography, they had already turned up the wrong alleyway twice and it was only thanks to Kinley’s sense of direction that they had found the path back to the soldier’s hide out at all.
“She should do,” Jem said savagely. “There can’t be much danger in a shelf of scrolls. And she’s not my girl.” She slammed buckets down and straightened up, fists on her hips, spoiling for an argument. From her bag came a muffled yell.
Kinley glanced around. The only witnesses were receding into the distance as people headed home. It was late afternoon and his stomach rumbled, reminding him of his missed lunch.
“What’s crawled up yer arse?” he asked her bluntly.
Jem sniffed. “Nothing. That’s what! We’ve spent our entire day running away and learning the dragon’s sum of sweat and soot. We should’ve gone back to the Tower with better explosives and a timer. I could’ve taken that damn machine apart.”
“Grow up,” Finley snapped back. “You don’t get to sulk ‘cause things don’t go yer way for once. An’ exploding the machine might kill our way home, too - if it don’t kill us. We’re up against an old curse with a crazy hoopla of people. Every day we’re alive and actin’ we’re winning. Lilian will come back with news an’ we’ll make our move tomorrow.”
Jem ground her teeth. Finley stared at her for a minute before guffawing. “It’s Lilian, ain’t it,” he said, when he caught his breath. “Yer scared Lilian will beat you.”
Jem looked away. “No.”
“Yeah.”
“Nope.” She stormed up off the hill. Finley ditched his bale with a relieved groan and ran after her.
“So what if she does?” he asked directly, grabbing Jem’s elbow. Jem whirled on the spot, the bag slapping her back. “Because Lilian might not tell us if she thinks it will hurt us,” she spat out. “And we’ve got enough problems with Captain Afizere and his happy band of liars.”
Finley opened his mouth to respond, then frowned and redirected his gaze over Jem’s shoulder.
“That’s not good,” he said.
Jem turned. She could see a small group of men approach; what they lacked in numbers they made up in size. They were a walking wall of blue and black wearing the same blank expressions as her father’s elite guards, back home.
“Let’s go,” she said urgently to Kinley.
Kinley grinned, pinned her to the wall and ducked down, his lips heading to hers for a kiss. Jem stood, stunned until the last second when she aimed her knee at his groin. Kinley’s hand slapped it down whilst his face hovered next to hers, his breath feathering over his lips. “Slap me an’ run,” he breathed. “It’ll look more natural an’ I’ll take off in the opposite direction. Meet me at the bugaloo tree near the den.”
Heart racing, Jem slapped him. Hard. A red blotch appeared on Finley’s face and he grinned at her before she pivoted on her toes and ran off, her thoughts scattered in all directions. Behind her, she heard the guards shout out and one jeer, but she was free and racing through the vegetation. Fifteen minutes after that, knock-kneed from the adrenaline high, she slid into a hollow under a bay shrub near the path and waited for someone to walk by.
Kinley poked her in the back.
“You make more noise than a brass band,” he whispered. “Ah’m sure I said the bugaloo tree.”
Jem grabbed his shirt and yanked him up alongside her. “What the hell is a bugaloo tree?” she whispered. “And how did you know that little stunt of yours would work?”
Finley held a finger to his lips and wiggled off. Jem waited, first tense, then bored as the shadows lengthened.
Finally, Finley wriggled back. “Right, they’ve left,” he murmured. “No-one at home, but it’s gettin’ late an’ I reckon Afizere’s lot will be home soon. We can steal a bite to eat and a bedroll from their cache an’ camp out here. Those guards will be back.”
Jem hesitated, then shook her head. “Lilian’s heading back too and she’ll get caught up in it,” she said reluctantly. “Besides, I want to find out what the soldiers are really doing here.”
“An if we get caught?” Finley asked sourly. “Remember, you’ve blew the doors off Gowan’s Tower.”
Jem shuddered. “Then we go down fighting,” she said. “And pray Lilian does have a better idea for us.”
From the bag came a loud clicking sound. With a sigh, Jem unfastened it, to reveal a dirty old skull with breadcrumbs stuck to it’s forehead from Jem’s missed lunch.
“If you slugwits can sit still for long enough,” it scolded. “I can offer better solution.”