Episode 37

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In the north east of Freedos, on the opposite side of the extinct volcano from Leuhta quarter, there is an area called Bonneville. Most of the residents here are young people from wealthy, noble families who for one reason or other don’t want to live in their parent’s mansions anymore and want to try and make it on their own, out in the big city, just like Mummy or Daddy did. They are artists, bookshop owners, antique sellers and specialty tea makers. They are anti war, but will never be forced to fight in one, anti-authority but will go weeks without seeing Weardian. They keep to themselves and spend their days making their shops look poor with expensive materials. For all its pretension, Lilian liked Bonneville. The people had a carefree air that only came from, well, from people who were free of cares. They were not rich, but they would never truly be poor. One of the things Lilian liked most about the area was the large Stave Church buried between its brightly painted, rickety buildings. She had stumbled across it once when visiting the area with Katherine, and she returned there every now and again to visit it and think of home. The church was not as big as the one in Benlunar, but its dark wood tower still stood tall and proud. Lilian didn’t know any of the Brothers or Sisters that maintained the building or ran services but she knew that it was quiet at night and the doors were always open. That was why she, Fritha and Mr Attorcop had made their way there the night after their encounter with Bried. They needed somewhere quiet and away from prying eyes.

Lilian glanced up at the tall ceiling of the central chamber and around at the various faded murals on the walls. Religion seemed oddly absent from city life but the book of stories was on a little plinth in the corner and Lilian smiled when she recognised pictures of Liebling and Kina on the western wall.

“Please try and concentrate Lilian.” Mr Attorcop’s voice echoed around the space, despite his quiet tone.

“Sorry.” Lilian snapped her attention back to the task at hand. She reached behind her back and found the handle of Kissandra’s snake blade. She had made a strap for it so that she could wear it under her shirt and she had not let it leave her side since getting home after Bried’s little visit. Dark alleys had seemed more threatening since then, she found herself jumping at loud noises or quick movements and eyed strangers with more suspicion than before. City life was getting to her. With a twist and a click she drew the blade down and out of its sheath. It glided out in swift silence, truly the blade of an assassin.

“Good,” said Mr Attorcop, “Now kindly open the handle and extract the vial.” Lilian did as she was asked. She was nervous. Her hands were shaking as she fiddled with the fake snake scale. Fritha sniffed her leg and put a big, comforting paw on her thigh. Lilian smiled down at her. Slowly and carefully she extracted the last remaining vial of lunar essence. Its cold light fell upon the faces of the animals on the walls around her. Mr Attorcop stepped closer to her.

“There is some missing. You told me you’d never used any.” His tone was accusatory and Lilian was quick to offer the explanation.

“When Fritha was hurt, I put a few drops on her tongue. I thought it would help her recover, and it did. She looked better a few seconds after.” Mr Attorcop took the three-quarter full vial from her hands.

“Well, that is interesting. I would love to explore the connection between Fritha and the lunar essence, but that is not why we are here tonight.” With a quick flick of his thumb the vial was unstoppered. “This is the last of it. Are you ready?” Lilian took a deep breath and nodded.

For a brief moment, Lilian was back in Benlunar. Perhaps it was being in a Stave, or just the memory of the first time she saw the Lunar essence dripping off the moon and down the side of the mountain. She was back in front of the Padda Stone, basking in its beauty. She could feel the crispness of the air and the numbness in the tips of her fingers. She was back in those familiar streets, smiling at friendly faces. She was playing by the river and wandering through the woods.

“Lilian?” Mr Attorcop’s voice pulled her out of the memory. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh yes. Sorry. What do I do?” Mr Attorcop was looking down at her with a confused expression. His face was bathed in the silver light, looking just like how she remembered it when she saw him for the second time that night when the Padda Stone awakened and spoke to him.

“Lilian, you’re crying.” Lilian was taken aback.

“What?” She instinctively put her hand up to her face and felt wetness on her cheek. Strange. She thought. She didn’t feel particularly sad. Then why was she in tears?

“This is a dangerous process Lilian, I need to be sure you can have a clear head if…”

“I’m fine.” Lilian protested. “Really, don’t worry. Let’s just try it. You’re right, this is the last of it and I need to learn how to use it. I’m ready.” Mr Attorcop paused for a second. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just… It’s nothing.” Mr Attorcop slowly put the stopper back on the vial. Lilian was about to complain, about to claim again that she was ready and that she was willing to learn. She had waited all this time and this was all they had left. Anger began to rise inside her. She was fed up of being treated like a child. She was ready for this lesson, for this responsibility.

“Lilian,” Mr Attorcop spoke in a calm and steady tone. “You know who we haven’t talked about in a long time?” Lilian was taken aback by the question. It annoyed her even further.

“Who?” She snapped. Tired of this old man’s riddles.

“Kilde.” The name hit her like a brick. Of all the times and all the places to mention him.

“What? Why would you…?” Lilian’s anger boiled over. “Okay, you’re right. We haven’t. But I don’t see what that… what he has to do with what we’re doing right now.”

“I would disagree. This substance is… unforgiving. When we practise gloaming we rely on our own bodies, our own senses. The power comes from patience and practise. It comes from us. This…” He held the vial of lunar essence up high. “This is the antithesis of patience. If you’re not careful it will hijack your body and take over your mind. You need to be ready to weather the storm, to guide it to where you need it to take you. You cannot fight it, you cannot control it, but you can influence it, you can guide it. But if you’re distracted, even for a moment…” His face grew stern and serious. Lilian understood now why he had mentioned Kilde.

“You think I’m distracted by Kilde?”

“I think you have a burning desire to help people. That’s a wonderful quality to have, don’t get me wrong. But I fear that the desire is so strong that you often ignore your own personal safety and wellbeing in the process. I’ve watched you rush into darkness, run into fire, fight when outnumbered, confront danger and never think twice. I bring up Kilde because before I teach you how to use this, I need to understand something.” He looked about, trying to find the right words. It was rare to see him unsure like this. It forced Lilian to calm down. Suddenly, he looked at the stone floor and sat down, legs crossed. Lilian joined him, placing the blade down beside her. Fritha walked over from her exploration of the church and slumped down beside them. Mr Attorcop thought for a few more seconds before looking directly at her.

“Lilian. What do you think about, when you think about Kilde?” Lilian considered the question. She was about to answer quickly, she would say that she missed him, that she felt sad. But something about the question forced her to think a little harder. A pain began to appear in her throat. It grew like a lump and she felt more wetness falling down her cheeks. She had never admitted this pain to anyone, perhaps not even herself.

“It’s okay,” Mr Attorcop calmly reassured her. Giving her space to feel before talking. Fritha stirred, sensing something was wrong. Her piercing, golden eyes scanned Lilian’s tear-streaked face. She brought her big wet nose close and sniffed. Then she leant back, looked up into the rafters of the hall and let out a low and beautiful gong. Lilian smiled, recognising the sound. It comforted her to know that she had a friend who knew how she was feeling without having to tell her. She turned back to Mr Attorcop who was staring at Fritha in bemused confusion.

“Scared.” she said, “When I think of Kilde, I feel scared.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“I know.” Lilian went on.

“I just. I couldn’t do anything. And it was so quick. One day he was fine and the next…” She paused, wiped her eyes and shrugged. She felt a little awkward talking about this. Mr Attorcop was a friend but he wasn’t really that kind of friend. They rarely talked about anything other than work or training. The language of emotions was foreign to their friendship. But he continued to nod and Lilian realised that he too was only human and so must know something of grief. He leaned over and grabbed the blade and handle that were lying on the floor. He carefully placed the vial back into the hollow handle, and then slid it back onto the blade until the catch clicked into place. He took a deep breath.

“I often feel guilty about dragging you into this world.” He stared down at the blade, the silver eyes of the snake were reflecting the low candle light, giving them a menacing glint. “I thought that teaching you the ways of the Nocta, how to fight, how to survive, would help you. And I suppose they have. But I’ve neglected to teach you something important.” Lilian sniffed loudly and wiped her nose. She looked at her mentor, staring down at the heavy weapon. “I have not taught you how to forgive.” The word hung heavy in the air. It was not a word that Lilian was particularly familiar with, that much was true. But she didn’t feel like it was Mr Attorcop’s place to teach her such a thing, that is, if forgiveness can even be taught. “It’s such an important lesson and I forget it all the time. You’ll have to forgive me, if you’ll pardon the expression. Forgiveness, real forgiveness is a gift. It is beautiful and powerful. More powerful than any knife or sorcery. It means that you truly understand that we are all human and that we make mistakes and that we don’t always do the right thing. It also means that we recognise that no matter how guilty we might feel, we are not responsible for every single thing that happens to the people around us.” Lilian considered the idea.

“Would you forgive Bried, for all she’s done?” Mr Attorcop looked up and around at the various murals and empty benches. He sighed.

“If she truly regretted her actions, committed herself to changing her ways and paid some sort of appropriate debt to the people she has hurt. Then I would have to. That does not mean I would ever forget the things she did, or the lives she and her group have destroyed. But in time I would forgive her.” He seemed surprised by the words he was saying. “I would have no other choice. Because a world without forgiveness is not one I would wish to be a part of.”

He flipped the knife in his palm, gripped the blade and offered Lilian the handle. “We’re not going to learn how to use essence tonight. Tonight we’re going to talk and we’re going to forgive ourselves. Yes?”

Lilian felt a little frustrated but understood the importance of the lesson. She reached behind her and slid the knife back into its sheath. She took a deep breath and felt the tears disappearing. Mr Attorcop smiled and said,

“Very well then. Talk.”

They left the Stave Church in Bonneville later that night and walked through the relative silence of the city. There was always something happening in Freedos so to expect the streets to be completely empty was impossible. A few people were singing outside an inn, merry with too much ale. A cat curled past them, stopping to hiss at Fritha before tip tapping into the dark. Fritha did not care for cats but thankfully ignored that particularly rude one. She loped along beside Lilian, occasionally stopping to sniff a corner or lick a puddle. Lilian smiled, she enjoyed exploring the city when it was quiet. Well, quieter. For the first time in quite a while, she felt like her problems were separate from herself. Talking to Mr Attorcop had helped a great deal, to the point where a tightness in her chest she had not even been aware of was lifted. She could breathe with ease and could see their situation with more clarity. She turned to Mr Attorcop and asked a question that suddenly occurred to her,

“Cromwell, what are we going to do?” He looked down at her, his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t have any essence. One of us is injured. We’re only a handful of people and we’re trying to, what? Overthrow a government?” She found herself laughing. She’d never actually stated their goal out loud before and it sounded ridiculous. Mr Attorcop smiled as well.

“Yes, it does seem silly. The Empress’s involvement with The Guiding Hand is an unwelcome development. But it’s a noble cause. And if anything is worth fighting for, then it’s a noble cause. I have not given up hope just yet.” He chuckled to himself. They turned a corner and found themselves entering Leuhta quarter. The cracked and faded paintwork of the Bonneville houses slowly became new colourful coats of Leuhta apartments.

Lilian imagined a world where she had stayed in Benlunar. She wondered what she would be doing right now if she had not made the choice to follow Mr Attorcop to Freedos. She would probably have learned to become a builder or decorator like her mother and father. She might even have worked on transforming parts of Benlunar into tall beautiful apartments like the ones she was walking past now. It would be a peaceful life, but she doubted she would be content with it. She would have always asked herself what the path of magic and danger would have shown her. She often felt scared, but she had never once regretted her decision. She agreed that their cause was noble. There were still a huge amount of people in this city that needed their help, and even more outside of it that would benefit from a change in regime. The idea of help reminded her of something.

“Why didn’t Zadoch help when we were fighting Bried? He looked strong, he could have at least tried to…” She stopped herself when she realised that Mr Attorcop had halted. She turned around to look back at him.

“Yes, I should have told you about him. Lilian, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Zadoch Korshid is part of a religious order. He is a Holy Solar Pater. He actually practises a similar art to what we call gloaming. Only instead of the moon, he draws his power from the sun.” Lilian approached him, his tone was making her slightly nervous. “We’ve actually learned a lot from each other over the years, he is a kind and intelligent man. Useful to have around. But… and here is where I need you to promise me something, you must never, ever, ask for his help. Do you understand?” Lilian nodded, not really sure to what she was agreeing.

“Why not?” she asked. Mr Attorcop resumed walking. Fritha reappeared from exploring a dirty doorstep and padded past them.

“It all goes back a very long time. There used to be people who would abuse his kind of power terribly. They enslaved entire nations with threats of death and destruction. By transforming the power of the sun into a religion, a small group managed to find a way to put limits on their power. One of those limits is that they cannot access the full extent of their abilities unless someone else specifically asks for their help.” Lilian was beginning to understand.

“But if you need help, and Zadoch can help, then why not ask…”

“Lilian I know you’re going to have many questions about this but you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ve only seen someone ask for his help once and I never wish to see it be given again. The experience was…” Mr Attorcop paused, trying to find the right words, his skin turned a strange, pallid colour like when someone is about to be sick. He finished his sentence with the word, “frightening. I don’t particularly wish to relive it so I will just say this. Imagine you ask someone for a glass of water and they give you an entire ocean. Your needs have technically been met, but so much so that you end up with more problems than when you began. Am I making myself clear?” Lilian did not particularly enjoy being in the dark, but she had to trust Mr Attorcop. His tone was final and deadly serious. She nodded.

“Yes. I understand. So when dealing with Zadoch I’m to listen to the advice he gives freely, while never actually asking for help.” Mr Attorcop smiled.

“You learn quickly Miss Lausanne. That is exactly right. But be warned, he will constantly pester you, it’s maddening. Katrina does not have the patience for him but when he realises that you won’t give in he can be a good friend and still be helpful in a more… reserved way. By providing insight or medical aid perhaps.” Lilian looked over at Fritha. She was crouching beside a hitching post and fading out of sight, her gaze was transfixed on a rat scuttling a few feet away. Lilian allowed herself a moment of pity for the unsuspecting rodent before watching it creep too close to the unseen predator and get snaffled up in one swift explosion of movement and teeth. She did not know what Mr Attorcop had meant by the kind of help Zadoch Korshid was always offering, but she made a mental note to never ask for or accept it. They turned a corner and started heading downhill. Lilian suddenly looked up and realised where they were.

“Oh look, we’re at the top of your old road.” Mr Attorcop glanced up from focusing on his footsteps.

“So we are.” Lilian had not been here since the night they had found Fritha, injured and Mr Attorcop’s attic destroyed by The Guiding Hand. She realised that she had probably been trying to avoid it, just like she had avoided thinking about Kilde and Benlunar. Suddenly, Lilian felt a small rumble beneath her feet. She instinctively turned around, expecting to see a horse or someone pulling a cart. Instead she saw two burly men rushing towards them. They were wearing big green coats and Lilian recognised them as Weardian officers. She instantly looked about to make sure Fritha was out of sight. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be seen. Mr Attorcop put his hand out in front of her, pushing her to the side of the road and out of the way of the two men. They were not sprinting but were still in a great hurry to be somewhere. One of them glanced at Lilian and Mr Attorcop as they ran past. Lilian knew from experience that being out this late and being spotted by Weardian should have at least resulted in some kind of questioning, perhaps even an arrest, but thankfully they just rushed past, rumbling the cobbles as they went.

“Where are they going in such a hurry?” Lilian asked in a low voice. Mr Attorcop did not answer right away but looked after them with a curious expression. His love of mysteries would be the end of him.

“I’m not sure…” he said, “but I do very much want to find out.” He shot Lilian a look that said ‘shall we?’ and the two set off at a pace.

Fritha appeared next to Lilian and began to run alongside her. Lilian glanced down, reached into her pocket and pulled out a sour berry.

“Hide Fritha, hide!” she coupled the command with a treat and Fritha understood that she needed to disappear. Lilian shot a glance back in time to watch Fritha chewing and fading into the dark. They were coming up to where Mr Attorcop used to live and work. It was one of the many tall apartment buildings in this area, all packed together and forced skywards by the squeeze. A few of the buildings had basement level entrances and so just before they arrived within view of the attic, Mr Attorcop tugged on Lilian’s sleeve and pulled her down a set of stone steps leading down to a basement door. From here they could crouch low and observe the scene without being spotted.

Lilian hugged the cold stone and poked her head round just over the lip of the top step. About ten houses down the hill, on the other side of the road, she could see Mr Attorcop’s old door. She recognised it easily from her time spent watching out for his imposter, the man called Helmont who had taken Mr Attorcop’s place and was using his attic to sell that horrible Nightshade stuff when Lilian had first arrived in the city. Currently, the dull, unremarkable door was surrounded by tall men in big, green coats.

They looked as though they were milling around and waiting for something or someone. Occasionally another team of two would join them.

“So many…” whispered Lilian. Mr Attorcop was crouching next to her, his brow furrowed in worry.

“This cannot be good.” Lilian heard fear in his voice. Tackling Bried and her three cronies was one thing, but this many Weardian was an entirely different and far more dangerous matter. They continued to watch, growing more and more nervous with each new arrival. They spoke rarely and softly, which Lilian thought was strange. The Weardian normally made no secret of their presence or power, but the furtive looks and low voices made her think that they were acting decidedly out of character.

“What are they doing to those two there?” Mr Attorcop pointed to the depths of the small group. Lilian had to strain her neck a little to see who he was talking about. Two or three officers were surrounded by the bulk of the group. Everyone was so tight knit that Lilian couldn’t see what was happening. She shrugged. Mr Attorcop turned to her and spoke in another low whisper.

“Do you think you might be able to take a look?” Lilian smiled, she’d wondered the same thing.

“Leave it to me.” She said, “Fritha!” she raised her voice only slightly so that she could catch the attention of her faithful feinhound. Fritha appeared behind them, a little way down the steps. Lilian hadn’t even sensed her creep past. She beckoned her over and ruffled her fur. It was currently silver and black, like a panther or dangerous jungle cat. It was hard to see any falling strands in the dim light but Lilian quickly found one attached to her sleeve. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and raised her head up towards the moon. She found that gloaming always came easier at night and was thankful for the site of a bright half moon. She slipped into focus, found her golden heart light, quickly managed to get some into the hair in her hand and then took it back in less than a few minutes. She remembered just how difficult this process had been half a year ago and was thankful for the constant practise and persistent training drills from Mr Attorcop. Finally, once the last of the light had bled back into her fingers and she felt its energy coursing through the rest of her body, she opened her eyes. She bade Fritha disappear again, turned to Mr Attorcop, whispered,

“Back in a minute,” and then faded into a transpicuous shadow.

She was careful to not make too much noise as her loose fitting shoes hit the surface of the road. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest, but she was confident that no Weardian officer would be able to hear that. Even in her state of focus, distinguishing one heart from so many in a crowd would be a challenge. She approached Mr Attorcop’s door and the group of men. She heard the occasional phrase escape the crowd.

“Not like that…”

“More charcoal…”

“Just leave it, alright?” Whatever they were doing, it was secretive and detailed work. Lilian was fast approaching them but still could not see what was happening to the men in the middle of the crowd. She glanced about for inspiration. There was a wall to her left that had enough gaps in the brickwork for her to climb. She was glad of the heightened strength she got from gloaming as she was only able to get the tips of her fingers into the spaces between bricks. But it was enough. She climbed a few feet and then turned to look down on the group. The gambit had worked and she could see the three officers that were surrounded.

Her first reaction was one of worry. The men looked injured and bloodied. One had a large wound on his forehead that had leaked a streak of red down the side of his face. Their coats were ripped and frayed. Lilian’s worry quickly became intrigue however as she saw that the men surrounding them were the ones creating the wounds. One was applying a lump of coal to his comrades face and hair to make it look like he had been burned. One man held a small pot of thick red liquid that Lilian presumed was the ‘blood’ on the injured man’s face. A couple more were ripping their clothes and coats and discussing whether or not the damage looked believable enough.

“More blood on his arm I think.” One officer said in a deep voice. The rest mumbled in agreement and the smallest of the injured three received a dollop of red across his left arm.

Lilian was even more confused than before. Her fingers began to ache and so she climbed down and gracefully hopped off the wall and back onto the road. A quick look at the group told her that no one had heard the dismount and she shot back across the street towards where Mr Attorcop had been watching.

“They’re dressing them up.” Lilian whispered as she reappeared beside her friend, releasing the gloaming from her body. Mr Attorcop jumped a little at the surprise of her return. He caught himself quickly and replied.

“Dressing them?”

“Yes. Well, they’re ripping their clothes and making it look like they’ve been injured. They’ve got fake blood and everything.” She spoke with confusion in her voice, wondering if Mr Attorcop would be able to make sense of it. It appeared as though he did, because in the dim light of the moon, Lilian saw the colour drain from his face.

“We need to leave.” He began to move, putting weight on his arms and lifting himself up.

“What? Why?” asked Lilian.

“I’ll tell you when we’re safe, right now we need to be as far away from here as possible.” Lilian glanced back towards the group of Weardian.

“Someone’s coming out!” she pointed towards Mr Attorcop’s old door. A man in a similar green jacket was walking out. He had large goggles on over his forehead as if he had been working with glass or dangerous chemicals.

“Come on Lilian we need to…” Lilian was transfixed. The appearance of the man had caused the group to scatter. Some were even heading their way so she reached out just in time to pull Mr Attorcop down so as to not be seen. The only officers that remained by the door were the three that had been made to look injured. Suddenly, Lilian understood. But it was too late as just then the attic window shattered with a deafening bang. A ball of smoke and fire erupted from inside it and Lilian could only watch, helplessly, as the entire of Mr Attorcop’s old attic residence exploded.