Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (48 page)

Snail shook her head.
‘Sorry dear. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a friend
of Gossamer’s then?’

Drengle made a
strangled sound and barged past them into the hall. The woman
raised delicately feathered brows.

‘I am Ferag. Mistress
of Death.’

Snail placed her tea
bowl very carefully on the counter beneath the
cupboards.

‘Mistress of Death?’
she repeated faintly.

‘So I am known. Well,
not here perhaps. In the Dark Realm.’ Her hair hung motionless and
she smiled again. ‘Now you must be Snail the Embalmer. Seola
described you to me once. She was quite accurate.’

Before Snail could
reply, ghosts streamed into the kitchen, surrounding Ferag in a
swirling cloud. Snail could hear only the faintest susurration, but
Ferag was clearly hearing much more. Finally Ferag raised a hand
and the ghosts fell back, churning restlessly along the
walls.

‘You heard one of
them?’ she asked Snail.

‘Yes, but only
faintly.’

Ferag nodded. ‘Enough
to heed a warning another time though I trust. They have given me
much food for thought.’ Ferag smiled brilliantly. ‘I have asked
them to protect you as they can while also continuing to scout the
Citadel and the City.’ She paused. ‘Or should I say –
haunt?’

When Snail didn’t
smile, Ferag scowled. ‘Oh darling, not another one with no sense of
humour.’

Snail blinked, but
Ferag was gone. Snail poured herself another bowl of tea and
returned to the sunny doorstep. She only allowed herself to tremble
once she was safely sitting down. By the time she’d stopped
shaking, Drengle had ventured cautiously back
downstairs.

‘She’s gone
then?’

Snail rubbed her
forehead. ‘Yes Drengle. Does she often – erm – drop in like
that?’

‘No. She doesn’t. Come
once before she did.’

He sat down next to
Snail. ‘Then them other people turned up.’ He turned to give her an
accusing stare. ‘They said you sent them here.’

‘If you mean a woman
called Tika, then yes, I did.’

‘And two men and a
girl. I didn’t know them.’

Snail gave an innocent
smile. ‘The taller man was from the Dark Realm and the girl was
Shea, daughter of the Imperatrix.’ She hooted with amusement at
Drengle’s expression of horror.

‘Simert’s Balls! What
were they doing in my house?’

‘I think they were on
their way to remove Lady Kerris from the Citadel. And I understood
this was Gossamer Tewk’s house, not yours.’

Drengle’s mouth hung
open, his pale blue teeth gleaming between his lips.

‘The Lady Shea?’ he
finally managed.

Snail nodded, but then
patted Drengle’s shoulder, her compassionate nature getting the
better of her.

‘Don’t worry Drengle.
We’re all right here.’ She thought for a moment. ‘The man from the
Dark Realm, I’m sure he visited me before, but I suppose I was so
frightened, I didn’t recognise him.’

‘You were frightened?’
Drengle List was so appalled that the invincible Snail should be
afraid that it took her all afternoon to calm his
nerves.

The ghost who’d led
Snail from her house was once more searching the City for signs of
Tomin. Of the seven who had joined him, three remained. They knew
it would be far harder to locate the creature once the streets
became busy and shops and businesses began their day’s work. But
they redoubled their efforts after learning what Ferag believed
this creature to be.

The leading ghost
rested for a while in a cemetery. He’d been a gardener in life and
now found cemeteries and public parks the most soothing places
where he could think without distraction. Ferag said this creature
had possessed the tutor to the Imperatrix’s young daughters. Then
it really wanted to be close to the Imperatrix, the centre of power
in Kelshan. So the ghost reasoned. He feared it would be
dissatisfied with Tomin’s comparatively unimportant position and
would surely have to shift again to someone more useful. But who? A
Council member? A senior army officer? A scribe within the
Imperatrix’s own offices?

The bush in which the
ghost rested rustled gently with the ghost’s agitation. He came to
a decision and streaked away towards the Citadel. It must be a
person close to the Imperatrix who the creature would attempt to
take over. So he would examine every person he could find within
that grey building.

At least it seemed that
Beslow had slept a little, Veranta thought when the old man arrived
in her office. He looked less tired, but considerably more
worried.

‘Beslow.’

The General sat down.
‘The agent watching the man Tomin was murdered my lady.’

Somehow it wasn’t a
great surprise. ‘In what manner? Was there a fight?’

‘His heart was torn out
– we haven’t found it in the immediate vicinity, and his throat was
ripped. Ripped by teeth we think, not slit with a knife. The body
is completely empty of blood, but there is not a drop on his
clothes or the ground around him.’

Veranta swallowed.
Worse than she’d anticipated. ‘None of that jelly stuff near him,
or within his body?’

Beslow shook his head.
‘A torn green gown in his rooms. I imagine he changed into less
recognisable clothes, but we have no way of knowing what they might
be. Obviously, I have alerted the City militia, and I have put
extra guards on the streets. They have sketches of the man and a
fairly good verbal description to work with.’

‘But he won’t be
found,’ said Veranta, leaning her elbows on her desk.

‘I would very much
doubt he will,’ Beslow agreed. ‘But we still have to look.’ He
massaged his left hand with his right, and Veranta saw an old scar
tracking from the back of his thumb, round, and under his wrist.
She wondered if it was a habitual gesture or if he still felt pain
in the hand.

‘I’ve spoken to the
heads of the infirmary and to those who worked closely with Tomin.
All accounts describe a modest man with a sense of humour, kind to
colleagues and patients, obsessed with his anatomical studies. He
had a particular interest in the physical structure of birds.
Everyone agreed his work was his life.’

‘Where does that leave
us?’

Beslow met her eyes. ‘I
am restricting access to you my lady. For the moment, I am allowing
only a specific number of guards, scribes and staff to enter your
presence. They are all men and women whose records are without
blemish, who have served here for several years. They are familiar
with each other, within their own spheres, and they would notice
any change of behaviour among their fellows.’

Veranta blinked. ‘You
really think that something came from Ternik, which affected the
anatomist, and could move again?’

‘I fear I do my lady. I
would have advised you not to employ Ternik knowing, as I believe
you did, that she was a mage. I have checked and the information
pertaining to her and her past is ridiculously vague.’

Veranta frowned,
disliking criticism however obliquely it was phrased.

‘But Ternik did not
kill Mellia, and I don’t believe she caused the disappearance of
Shea or Kerris. She never, in any way, attempted to discuss affairs
of state with me. None of this makes any sense Beslow.’

Beslow nodded. ‘I have
informed the Council Members and Guild Representatives that you
will hold no meetings for a time. Anything they consider needs your
urgent attention is to be submitted in writing. They believe you
have temporarily withdrawn from public life due to the loss of Lady
Mellia and Lady Shea. News has not yet got out about Lady Kerris’s
disappearance.’

Veranta had been so
occupied with thoughts of Ternik’s death and Tomin’s absence she’d
almost forgotten her youngest daughter. General Beslow read as much
in her expression and quelled his own surge of disgust. He got to
his feet.

‘Three officers –
Captains Triak and Gomer, and Senior Sergeant Draig, will share the
command of guarding you my lady. I would trust all three with my
life.’

When General Beslow
left the Imperatrix’s presence, he checked that all the orders he’d
given had peen put into effect and his officers in particular knew
exactly what he required of them. He made his way to the guard post
at the main landing of the next floor down. The post comprised an
office with a room leading off where guards could rest between
shifts. A large book rested on the solid table in the middle of the
room. Here, names were noted of any visitors who registered at the
post giving the reason for the visit to the top floor.

The General slumped
into the chair behind the table. A stack of files had arrived in
his absence, files he’d requested. But now that he saw the number
of them, he rather regretted asking for them. The ghost hovered
above the General and read through the first papers with Beslow. By
then he realised the General was thinking along the same track as
himself: someone close the Imperatrix had to be the obvious choice
for the creature to possess.

The ghost left the
General to his files, exiting through the small metal grill set in
the door. He floated up the staircase, far less busy than usual. He
peeked into the scribes’ room: only a third of the desks were
occupied. The door to the Imperatrix’s own office was ajar and the
ghost slithered easily through the narrow space. He rose, resting
in a corner of the ceiling, and watched her.

Veranta stood by the
great map, her expression unreadable. She moved to the window. If
only he could hear her thoughts, like that woman Tika had been able
to do. After a while, with Veranta still unmoving by the window,
the ghost left, making his way through the corridors to the
Imperatrix’s apartments. He halted. The door was firmly closed but
no guards stood outside it. The ghost was puzzled. Whether the
Imperatrix was within or not, guards always stood watch at these
doors. He didn’t think the old General would have changed that
custom, he would surely have reinforced it.

He turned back,
drifting through nearly deserted corridors, into empty galleries
and waiting areas, until he reached the guard post again. General
Beslow wasn’t there and the ghost felt that he must be wrong. He
was wasting precious time here. Annoyed and worried, the ghost
whirled away, down the marble staircases and out into the
City.

Tomin sat by the docks
and watched waves slap against the sides of boats large and small.
He was perched under a raised pier in the cleft of two great timber
struts. The shrivelled bodies of several rats floated in the water
beneath him. He was nearly invisible, perched here. Very few of the
men toiling along the docks thought to look up. The sun was a
dazzle of sharp light over the water and the workers kept their
eyes on the goods they were loading and unloading.

The creature was
struggling. It wanted to leap among these weaklings, shred their
puny bodies and guzzle down their blood. They held a surprisingly
large amount of blood. But something was interfering in his mind,
if such a creature could be said to have a distinct mind. He felt
another urge beyond his blood lust. He wanted to go back to the
large stone edifice across the City.

Whenever he thought of
doing that, his body contracted into Tomin’s shape and he felt
constrained and increasingly angry. But when he looked at the
workmen, Tomin receded, and the creature’s teeth became sharpened
tusks, his fingers curved into claws. He squirmed on his perch,
snarling to himself, watching the men below. The twisted shape
suddenly went rigid and stayed thus, frozen, while men shouted and
called among the boats and crates of goods.

Some considerable time
passed. Most of the men had piled into the taverns and pie shops
for their midday break when Tomin slid down from his hiding place.
Sweat soaked his hair and his tunic; his face was pale and his eyes
glassy. He walked unsteadily along the edge of the dock, stepping
around bollards and piles of thick rope and stinking
nets.

He headed towards one
of the many narrow alleys that ran between high warehouses, and
which led in towards the City. Whatever possessed him, for now, he
was Tomin.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

‘Lemos, what do you
actually know of the Splintered Kingdom?’

Tika and the Bear mage
were tucked away in Emas’s workroom. Jemin and his officers were
still ensconced in Lemos’s house, and Emas was cleaning the den
with Gossamer’s vague assistance. Lemos touched his scarred throat
before replying, still amazed at the return of his
voice.

‘Very little I’m
afraid. What you call the Places Between, we know as the Planes of
Existence. They are everywhere, all around us, and we can enter
some of them, sometimes, by way of dreams, ritual, trance and so
on. The Splintered Kingdom is not a Plane of Existence. It is not
of this world, as the Planes are. It came here violently, plunging
into our Planes and causing a long, long period of
disruption.’

‘You are talking of
mental disruptions?’