In Part 1, Lilian is trying to dissuade Jem from her suicidal quest to Alinakard's twin city on the opposite riverbank - a trip no one has ever returned from. In Part 2, Lilian betrays Jem to her father, starting a chain reaction that forces her (and the reluctant gate-guard, Kinley) over the bridge in Part 3. Lilian is sucked into a fight court in Part 4 whilst Kinley’s past haunts him. In Part 5, the stakes grow higher as the pair realise if they don’t solve the city’s puzzles they are trapped beyond death.
Kinley enjoyed thinking, particularly when he had time to do it. Right now, faced with an intractable problem and a graveyard of baffled skeletons, thinking might be the only thing that would keep him alive. He bent down and plucked a long grass stem from the ground, bringing it to his mouth in one practised move.
“What are you doing?” Legata Martia asked. She had no flesh on her face, so he mentally filled in the raised eyebrows and glare.
“I’m cogitating,” he explained, tipping two fingers towards the stalk. “Chewin’ grass keeps ma mouth moist, reducing stress an’ allowing me to think free an’ clear. Now, let’s break down this problem. D’ya know who the philosopher’s descendent is?”
“No. Names change, lines get broken and it’s been so long…but we’ve created a way for them to come to us. A call.”
Kinley nodded slowly. “Right. How does that work?”
“Our alchemists - back when we had them - scraped his blood off the walls and used it to create a dream stone to lure one of his kin across the bridge. To date, no one has done so, successfully.”
Kinley chomped thoughtfully.
“And the philosopher’s place? How did it kill yer?”
He realised it was insensitive as soon as the question slid out of his mouth. The Legata seemed unfussed, however.
“Arrows, stoning, beheading and stabbing. Many of us died on the ground, after being hurled from the tower’s staircase - those poor shades rarely stir from their resting place as their bones are broken. The door has no handle, keyhole or hinges and we died whilst trying to break it down.”
“Huh. So, it’s a puzzle then. Has anyone tried exploding it? Chopping it down?”
“We tried. We died. The door is metal.”
“Ah, a stonking challenge there, then. Who guards it?”
For the first time, Legata Martia moved in a stiff, embarrassed parody of a shrug. “There are no guards.”
“So ya sayin’ the building stabbed, shot an’ threw youse all off it? That’s one helluva feat for simple stonework.”
The Legata stood motionless. Instead, a husky cough that sounded like a castanet came from his left-hand side. The skeleton there was missing it’s arm and jaw but it’s voice rattled out anyway.
“There are no guards because the whole city defends it. Anyone who approaches is cut down by the mob.”
Finley paused, as motionless as his audience. Then he spat out the grass stem and bent to select another.
“Defo a two-stalk challenge,” he said, placing the fresh offering between his teeth. “I’m stoked to meet you before it happened to me.”
*
Captain Afizere handed the large, wooden cube to Lilian. It was roughly the size of her head, each side filled with carved, abstract whirls. The corners were badly dented and every carving was scratched. The only way Lilian would normally let such a battered object into her house would be for firewood.
“We found this, in that alcove, facing the doors,” he explained, indicating the wall space. It was the only ornamentation in the room apart from sand, torches and a few benches and Lilian took a moment to read the inscription. The original had been carved into the wall in Old Empire speech, but all around it was graffiti from different languages and eras, each with its translation. In her own language, it read “The way lies through the cube.” Underneath, in chicken scratch, someone else had cut ‘the wretched thing won’t burn.”
“A lot of people have tried this,” she observed.
“Yes. Every time someone new comes in, the crowd outside throws us fresh food. A day later, the demon drops by to eat a survivor. We’ve been trapped here for weeks.”
Lilian turned over the box, exploring the look and feel of each panel.
“But you’ve been in this city for much longer than that, Sirrah,” she said lightly. No need to rail at him about the past or how long her mother had waited balcony, looking out across the water for some sign of life.
“Yes. Too long. You can’t walk back across the bridge, enter the water or exit via any other road. The city loops back on itself and no one, apart from us, has any interest in leaving. They think they are in paradise.”
Lilian shot him a glance. “Why would they think that?”
One of the other guards snorted. He was short and broad-shouldered with a beard that aspired to be a badger. “No death here, lady. It’s all very cosy and toxic. They damn well worship Gowan’s Tower and they attack anyone who tries to approach it. That’s where half our company died. Well - were slain, anyway.” He shuddered. “It’s one thing to see your mate cut down, and another to see him crying and pleading for the pain to stop with his head hanging to one side and not a drop of blood left.”
“What did you do to them?” Lilian asked, aghast.
Captain Afizere stared at the ground. “We burned them,” he muttered. “After that - well, we were in hell anyway, so why stop? We went to look for the devils.”
There was a long pause as the men looked away, each facing his own horror. Lilian kept her gaze on the box. Judging from its wounds, the men had already tried breaking it apart.
“There’s no puzzle here,” she said at last. “If there was a secret catch or trick, you would have found it or broken it. I don’t think I can find something different after you’ve been looking at this for weeks.”
The badger-guard snorted. “Fine piece of knee-knocking there, then. I thought Pearls were tough.”
“It’s not weakness,” Lilian shot back. “It’s pragmatism. The wording doesn’t say we need to get into the cube. Just to use it.”
Afizere swore in guttural street slang, making her grin. “That makes sense. But where…?”
Lilian closed her eyes trying to recall the arena. “Is there anywhere around here with similar decorations to the panel?”
“Yes,” said Afizere heavily. “The heraldic shields next to the bone drummers.”
Lilian nodded, her mouth dry again. “Then we need to get into the stands.”