Episode 38

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

Lilian was frozen in place. The detonation had lit up the entire street in deep orange. For a brief moment, the surrounding apartment buildings had looked like they were lit by a crimson sunset. The force of the explosion had reached Lilian and Mr Attorcop all the way over in their hiding place, a small set of steps that led down to a basement door. Lilian had felt her hair shift backwards as if moved by a sudden small storm. As black smoke began billowing out of the broken attic window Lilian glanced at Mr Attorcop. Moments ago he had been bent on running away, now he was as transfixed by the scene as she was. Most of the Weardian officers had disappeared, leaving only the three they had made up to look injured. Two of them were lying on the floor and one was making a show of shakily stumbling out of the front door of the building. Other front doors were beginning to open up and down the street. Curious neighbours and worried citizens were quickly beginning to gather on street level to investigate the strange noise. Lilian saw curtains twitch and people hurriedly rushing to windows to see if they or their homes were in danger. Lilian and Mr Attorcop watched in horror as an older man approached the Weardian cautiously. He seemed to be asking if he could help but as soon as he went to assist one of them three of the Weardian officers that had been on the same spot moments ago came thundering down the round. They ran so close to where Lilian was hiding she felt the vibrations from their heavy boots. Thankfully, they were too distracted with the task at hand to notice the hiding pair. The task seemed to involve getting as many people to notice what had happened as possible. The Weardian were making a great show of shouting to people to step back, raising their voices enough to alert people two roads over. One of them was dashing between groups of onlookers asking them something. Lilian caught the question over the growing hubbub.

“Did you see him? Did he run past here?”

“Who?” replied one woman, still in a dressing gown.

“The man responsible, the owner of the apartment, the sorcerer Attorcop.”

It had taken a little while before the crowd was thick enough for Lilian and Mr Attorcop to slip away unnoticed. Lilian’s hands were still shaking a little by the time they reached her building. The shock of the explosion was still making its way through Lilian’s mind. Had anybody been injured? Did the neighbours know that Cromwell had nothing to do with it? These questions and a hundred others raced through her thoughts. Once Lilian had unlocked her door she turned back to Mr Attorcop. His face was scowling in thought. He looked up from his feet.

“Lilian, I think I might have to stay below ground for a while.” Lilian wiped a cold bead of sweat from her forehead.

“What?”

“I think those men were trying to frame me and I’m nervous. I’m nervous because I can’t think of a reason they might want to do that.”

“I’ll swing by tomorrow with some food.” Fritha appeared by the door, sitting patiently as if she had been waiting for them to arrive. Mr Attorcop nodded,

“Thank you. Be careful wandering around the city. The weardian will probably try to use you to get to me.”

“I’ll keep out of their way.” Lilian reassured him and they said their goodbyes. As soon as she shut the door to her room she collapsed onto her bed. Visions of shattering glass and black smoke still prevented her from sleeping right away. There was one thing though that kept her focus. It was the officer’s words. The thing he’d said when asking for Mr Attorcop. That he was the man responsible. The owner of the apartment. She pictured the officer’s poorly shaven, big browed head and she hated him.

Mr Attorcop had been right to hide himself away. The very next morning Lilian woke up to go and bring Mr Attorcop some food from the market. She was halfway through buying a few sweet potatoes on Checkad square when she noticed the first poster. It was plastered on a wall directly behind the farmer who ran the stall. The paste was still wet and the ink was stained in a few places but Lilian thought she saw the name Attorcop.

“Excuse me?” She asked the stall holder, a young woman with dirt under her fingernails. “What is that?” The woman turned to see where Lilian was pointing.

“Oh yeah, they put that up this morning. Something to do with the injured officers. This fellow lures them into his attic which he rigged to blow and then traps them inside and sets em off!”

“That’s not wh…” Lilian stopped herself mid sentence, eliciting a strange expression from the woman.

“That’s not what?” she asked.

“That’s… not what I heard”

“Oh yeah?” The woman smiled and leaned it, eager to hear a new take on the morning’s scandal. Lilian panicked.

“Oh… um, yes. I heard that he’s innocent and that the officers weren’t even injured and that they set the explosion off themselves.” There was a small pause and Lilian set about putting her produce into her bag. The woman running the stall burst into fits of laughter.

“Ha! Oh that’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that one for my brother!” Lilian considered pressing on and trying to convince her but she remembered that she was at the market for more important things than gossip. She smiled, acknowledging that she was in on the joke and said goodbye to the woman. She’d left Fritha at the edge of the market and saw two more posters on her way to collect her. By the time they reached Mr Attorcop’s basement (checking for tails as they went), Lilian had counted twenty-three.

“Twenty-three?” Mr Attorcop parroted the number back to Lilian as soon as she told him. “That’s actually quite impressive. Amazing that they had that many to hand so quickly, don’t you think?” Lilian detected a hint of bitterness in his tone. He tutted and went about bringing the food over to the little kitchen area. “Thank you for this, Lilian.”

“I can bring things when I’m free. Next few days might be a bit difficult.” Mr Attorcop spoke with his back to her as he removed various vegetables from Lilian’s pack.

“Don’t go too out of your way. I’m sure others will have seen the posters, I should be fine. But yes, life is going to be a little different these next few weeks. I won’t be able to go around the city by day, I shall have to rely on others for a while.” His shoulders slumped and he threw a mushroom a little too aggressively into the clay bowl, causing several other mushrooms to jump and cascade away. Lilian sensed that he needed space and time to process everything that had just happened. She’d seen him deal with difficult situations before and it was usually just a matter of time before his keen mind started viewing problems as puzzles. As she mumbled her goodbye and climbed up the rickety stairs out of the basement she turned to look back at her mentor. His shoulders were slumped and he was staring coldly ahead, his gaze aimed at the vegetables in front of him, but not really focused on any particular one.

Stepping out cautiously into the sun Lilian turned right and headed to the main road. She still had time before her meeting with Genevive so she decided to take the long route up to the palace gates. The haunting presence of the wanted posters was making it difficult to enjoy the sunshine. She turned onto a wide and busy road. A few carts were being pulled by sleepy donkeys, the ones going up hill were filled to the brim with fresh produce and shiny tools. Any carts coming down only contained odd looking or dirty vegetables or blunt and useless instruments. People gathered around small patches of sun, the beams of which had snuck their way past the tall towers above. Lilian didn’t mind the cold of the shade. The slight chill in the air after months of oppressive heat felt good and reminded her of home. She thought for a few seconds about Kilde and remembered what Mr Attorcop had said about confronting his memory. It was strange, she certainly felt sad whenever she thought about him and that sadness made her want to stop. But if she forced herself to think of something else she would not find the deeper memories. The ones past Kilde’s death. The ones of them playing in the river, of buying honey roasted nuts in the winter market. Even though they all had to be reached through a wall of sadness, these memories made her happy. She smiled at the recollection of Kilde throwing a parchment glider at Madame Streng’s back and the sound she made when she had jumped in surprise.

Lilian was almost surprised to find herself smiling at the memory. She became distracted however by a nudge from her senses. Something within her, a trained reflex to notice strange things was bugging her. She glanced about the street at the various polite pedestrians. None of them seemed out of place, so what was bothering her? Turning to face uphill her sight landed on something in the distance. Whereas most of the patches of sunshine were filled with people there was one up ahead that was empty except for one man. Lilian had barely noticed him as the reflection off his bright white clothes made him blend into the sunlit stone. Lilian narrowed her eyes and approached him, trying to confirm a suspicion.

“Zadoch?” she asked, stepping into the circle of sun. She felt a quick rise in heat as the sun hit her hair and clothes. She was sure it was the same man that had not helped during their fight with Bried. “Are you alright?” He had not seemed to notice her at first but after a few more distracted seconds he looked down at her.

“Ah well hello little moon girl. Nice to see you out in the sun.”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

“I see our friend has gotten into a spot of bother.” He gestured to the other side of the road where a poster garishly stared out from a shop window. Lilian rolled her eyes.

“It’s all lies. I’m afraid I don’t have time to tell you everything but you should go and see him.” Zadoch raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, I shall be cautious and pay him a visit later. I should imagine he needs help at a time like this.” Had Lilian been any less aware of who she was dealing with she might have nodded her head in agreement. But she knew that wherever help from Zadoch Korshid was concerned, she had to tread very carefully.

“You should see him. I don’t think he needs help, he certainly hasn’t asked for your help, but should you want to pay him a visit of your own accord then I’m sure he would appreciate that.” Zadoch’s eyebrows lowered ever so slightly, changing his curious expression into one of disappointment.

“Message received, my lady. I shall be sure to compliment our friend on his training when I see him.” Lilian felt a little embarrassed. Mr Attorcop’s warnings had been so fervent that she did not want to risk anything, but perhaps she could have been more subtle about refusing his help.

“Well perhaps I shall see you there. I’m afraid I must go, I have an appointment. It was lovely to see you Pater Korshid.”

“And you moon girl.” Lilian continued her journey upwards and left Zadoch in the patch of warm light. A little distance away she turned to check what he was doing. He was still alone and seemed to have gone back to doing exactly what she had found him doing. Staring upwards past the buildings and directly at the sun.

Lilian didn’t let herself get distracted by the strange behaviour. She had a job to do this morning and she wasn’t about to let more unexpected strangeness distract her from the task at hand. Her legs began to feel heavy as she pushed them against the steep stone road. The slight chill in the shade was becoming increasingly pleasant, so much so that Lilian found herself avoiding the sun entirely. Despite the pains of ascension, the walk was nice enough. The views in particular were a good reward. From near the palace court walls you could see out over a thousand sun touched rooftops and beyond the city walls to green fields sectioned into puzzle pieces by dry dirt roads. Lilian stopped for a moment to admire the sight. She was about to enter the castle gates for the first time since the ball. Genevive lived within the court walls so her family must be close to the Empress. She feared seeing the Empress again but reminded herself that she probably had more important things to do than wandering around the courtyard in the middle of the morning. Besides, she still had a few days before she was supposed to show up at the palace gates with Fritha. Everything would be fine. Right? Her last thoughts before approaching the guard at the gate were that she should have come in disguise, or even just invisible. But she did not know which building belonged to Genevive’s family.

“Hello.” she spoke confidently, as if she was definitely meant to be there, which she was. A large guard turned to look at her and immediately put his hand in front of his face to block the sun. His squinting gave him an angry expression.

“Morning. Delivery is it?” Lilian saw him glance around for a package, parcel or stuffed animal.

“Not today. I’m actually expected inside.” The guard raised his eyebrows in surprise, instantly regretting it when they caught the sun.

“Expected inside?” he repeated the words as he made his way over to a small desk near the gate wall. It had a few stacks of parchment on it, all weighted down by large round metal balls roughly the size of the guard’s fist. The guard caught the eye of two others on the opposite side of the road, they both had their hands up to block out the sun and so stared at Lilian through dark shadows. The first guard moved one of the weights aside with a low thud and picked up a page.

“Name?”

“Lilian Lausanne.” her own name almost caught in her throat.

“Not your name, the name of the person you’re seeing.” His tone was quick but not spiteful or aggressive. Lilian flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry. Um, Katz, Genevive.” There was a short pause as the guard checked the page.

“Lausanne?” he looked up for confirmation. Lilian nodded and the guard went back to the page. Suddenly, Lilian felt the presence of a second guard walk past her. He walked over to the table as well and began inspecting a different pile. Lilian felt a bead of sweat falling down the back of her neck, although she couldn’t tell if that was due to nerves or the long walk.

“Awright. You see that house with the two banners under the windows?” The first guard was suddenly standing and pointing at a building beyond the gates. Lilian had to step through the archway to see which house he meant.

“I see them.”

“If you go there then count four doors to the right. It’s the green one.” He then turned on his heel and left Lilian looking at the banners and buildings. She was too stunned to move at first but she quickly found her feet and began to walk. She dared not look back at the guards and even though she could sense the giant palace uphill and looming to her right, she could not bring herself to look at that either, as if the Empress might burst out of the palace doors as soon as she sensed Lilian’s presence nearby. She kept her head fixed and her vision blinkered so when a second guard’s voice called her name it shocked her into nearly tripping up. Lilian caught herself and spun round to see the other guard, the one that had been checking a different pile of papers, standing by the gates.

“Miss Lausanne, was it?” Lilian could only nod. He looked to a page he was waving in his right hand. “Says here you’ve got an invitation from the Empress.” He paused, expecting Lilian to say something. Lilian chose to stay quiet, as if that was just not enough information. The guard continued to look at her, his face growing confused. “May I ask when you will be fulfilling that request from her Majesty?”

“Oh!” Lilian finally reacted, “Well, I can’t right now. But she, I mean, her majesty said within the week so…” She trailed off hoping that would be enough to make him go away. This new guard was taller than the last and rested his free hand on the pommel of his sword when he waited.

“I would advise you to not keep her majesty waiting for too long...” He trailed off as well. Lilian heard the mockery and threats in his tone. The corner of his mouth even curled in a sneer. Lilian had been told stories of what palace guards were authorised to do to make sure the Empress’ timetable was kept on schedule. It was not rare in the old town to hear a neighbour’s door being kicked in during the early hours of the morning because of a missed appointment the day before. Even the occasional noble house would be visited by a gang of palace guards in the middle of the night, although those raids always seemed to be more civil than the ones in the slum flats and packed Old Town houses. Lilian smiled nervously and then turned back around. She kept her eyes dead ahead once again and listened out for the guards receding footsteps, which never came.

It was only a short walk to Genevive’s building and Lilian was glad to reach the relative safety of her door. It was painted a deep green and had black iron bracings. The knocker was shaped like a chalice, half embedded in the wood. Metal water wrought in intricate detail overflowed from the cup and cascaded down to become the swinging knocker. Lilian watched the light bouncing off the iron as she lifted the water handle, it shimmered realistically and the cold touch to the metal had Lilian almost believing she was picking up actual frozen water. It had a satisfying weight to it and she was about to bring the knocker down with a clunk when she stopped to listen for a second. A small sound had caught her attention. It was a high pitched ringing, like a small bell that was chiming out a never ending alarm. It was that same sound that Lilian had heard that time on the rooftop near the palace walls. It was the sound that had forced her to go to the Empress’ party. Lilian was sure of it. She was sure because no matter which way she looked or turned her head, she could not place it. It was as if the bell was ringing below the ground or in the sky. Lilian crossed her fingers and dropped the knocker. A wide grin spread across her entire face as the metal fell because as soon as that first thunk resounded throughout the interior, the strange bell stopped ringing.

A few quiet seconds ticked by and Lilian took a step back so as to not be right in the face of whoever opened the door. There was the sound of a sliding bolt, a clicking lock and the front door opened to reveal a smiling Genevive.

“Good morning my new friend!” she spoke with that familiar lilt which Lilian still could not place. She seemed happy, happier than when they had first met during the Summer ball. She was no longer dressed as a whimsical warrior but rather wore a comfortable looking, grey cotton shirt that was tucked into trousers that opened up at the calf. They weren’t exactly the clothes that Lilian expected a noble woman to wear, but then very little about Genevive conformed to Lilian’s expectations of noble women.

“Am I too early?” Lilian enquired.

“Not at all, not at all. Tea with a friend can never arrive too soon.” Genevive stepped back and gestured for Lilian to come past the threshold.

The house was spacious for the city. A small hallway with white washed walls led through to a large kitchen and living area. Lilian was reminded a little of William’s place, but where everything there was forced to find its proper spot or risk being a nuisance, things in this room had more space to settle haphazardly. A yellow tin jug rested by a hole in the floor with a rope attached to its handle, there was the bust of a serious looking, bearded man on a side table with little trinkets and keys scattered around the base and even though the place was clean, it didn’t seem very lived in. Unlike a lot of other city houses this one had large windows which meant Lilian was easily able to read the titles on the sides of all the books on the large dark wood bookshelf in the corner.

“You have a beautiful home.” said Lilian, in an attempt at small talk. She would rather have pulled the guiding hand brooch out there and then and demanded answers, but this mission might require a little more tact.

“Thank you, but it’s really my father’s home.” Genevive spoke from across the room, busily filling a pot with water from the yellow jug. Lilian barely recognised her as the same woman who wore the wonderful armour, but she certainly seemed more at ease here than at the ball.

“Is your father upstairs?” asked Lilian.

“Oh no, he’s at work. He is a minister. Honey?” Lilian turned to see her reaching for a small pot on a high shelf.

“Oh, yes please.” Lilian stepped away from the books, most of which seemed to be disappointingly about history and finance rather than metal work, and went to sit at the large kitchen table. It had a clay vase in the centre, painted blue with little white birds around the top. A bunch of large orange and yellow roses protruded out of the opening.

“Have you run into Miss Bellaswan yet?” Genevive came over with a mug of steaming, sweet smelling tea and joined Lilian at the table.

“Hm? Oh, thank you. No, not yet. I dread the day though.” What with everything that had been happening recently Lilian had almost completely forgotten about her new high-society rival. Genevive jokingly clutched at the edge of the table.

“Oooh you’d better watch out for that one. It’s the loveliest roses that have the sharpest thorns.” she gestured to a sharp point on the stalk of one of the flowers in front of her. Lilian smiled.

“Oh I have thorns of my own and I’m not scared of flowers OR swans.” Genevive smiled widely and raised her mug.

“I’ll drink to that! To thorns of our own.” The pair tapped their mugs together before taking a sip of drink. The tea was fresh and full of flavour. Much nicer than the weak, barely flavoured water that was sold in Old Town inns or markets. Lilian was desperate to turn the conversation onto jewelry or armour, anything that might lead to a revelation from Genevive as to her involvement with The Guiding Hand. She had practised a few conversational segways on her way up the hill and tried to find one which suited the situation best. Most of them had involved accusing Genevive or angrily brandishing the brooch, but try as she might she could not see her new friend as an enemy. She looked at Genevive now and could only see a pleasant, smiling young woman who had shown her nothing but kindness. As for jewelry, she wore none. Lilian couldn’t even see a necklace or bracelet, but perhaps there was something there.

“No silver coronet today?” she asked, gesturing at Genevive’s forehead and hoping the question came off as a joke. Thankfully, Genevive smiled.

“Oh no, I cannot dress every day like I’m going to a ball.”

“It was a very beautiful piece.” Genevive bowed her head graciously.

“Why thank you. Yes I was happy with it.” There was a slight pause and Lilian detected some awkwardness. Perhaps she had been too quick to bring up the metal work. Social decorum aside though Lilian was here on a mission, she could not let her friends down now, especially when so much had gone so wrong recently. She decided to press the issue. With as much casual ease as she could muster, Lilian glanced around the room as if she half expected to see a bangle or silver crown leaning against a bowl or hanging from a plant.

“How long have you been making jewelry?” Looking back at Genevive, Lilian caught her cheeks flushing.

“Oh a few years. As I said it’s not really something I discuss often.” Lilian stayed silent but cocked her head questioningly. Genevive continued. “Before we moved to Freedos it was something I practised often, but here it is… difficult.”

“Why?” asked Lilian, hoping not to betray how eager she was to know more. Genevive shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her tea.

“My father is a minister, this makes me some noble man’s daughter. Here at court you are expected to conform I suppose, to certain expectations. Heating and beating metal is the work of a blacksmith.” She said this last part in a deep, silly voice, mocking some unseen nobless. “Please,” she added, “I would prefer it if you kept this to yourself. Once you spend more time within these upper walls, you will understand.” Lilian detected real sadness in her voice, as if a big part of her personality was trying to get through after years of being beaten into shape. She nodded an agreement. Any other time she would have dropped the topic entirely, but she was too close to the truth now. She chastised herself for losing focus, for forgetting that this woman might work for an organisation that was bent on ruining her life. Lilian steeled herself, and pressed the issue.

“What other kinds of things do you make?” The atmosphere in the room shifted as soon as she finished the question. All the signs had pointed to dropping the issue, so Lilian’s insistence was becoming rude. Genevive’s face fell from shy embarrassment, to narrow eyed suspicion. Lilian’s heart began to beat heavily in her chest.

“Lilian, may I ask? Why are you so interested in my work with metal?” Lilian froze. Her attempt at extracting information through tact had failed and her mind was scrambling. Mr Attorcop would be very disappointed. With nothing left to hide Lilian reached into her pocket and clutched one of the silver hand brooches. She brought it out and set it on the wooden surface of the table with a small clunk. She kept her eyes on Genevive, her expression remained fixed and unreadable.

“Genevive?” she asked, “Did you make this?” It was as if a cloud passed over her new friend’s face. The revelation of the brooch had certainly caused a reaction, not shock or surprise but something more like, fear. Suddenly, Lilian became very aware that she was alone in a large house with someone who knew their way around sharp tools and was very good at keeping secrets. Genevive’s big brown eyes looked up from the brooch and fixed Lilian with an intense glare. Lilian half expected to be shouted at or thrown out of the house in anger, judging by the darkness in Genevive’s expression. But instead of an angry tirade, a tear fell from her right eye accompanied by a sad, single word.

“Yes.”