The Broken Isles

FOURTEEN

Jeza was keen to explore the nature of the Mourning Wasp before she resuscitated it. She had paid to gain access to what was left of the city’s private underground libraries. Knowledge was power, of course, and in Villiren you didn’t get something like that without paying for it.

Information was barricaded within tiny rooms situated mostly in the Ancient Quarter, an area that had remained unaffected by the war, and they had been kept in good condition by either aged cultists or old scholars weighed down by nostalgia. She examined shelf after shelf for information on the Mourning Wasp, thick tomes coming apart at the bindings, all kinds of exotic books written in various languages, though she could only understand a couple of them. Some were in remarkably good condition — facsimile copies or translations made by scholars, and with useful annotations.

Jeza had disregarded unreliable authors, researched others, but slowly began to piece together the origins of the Mourning Wasp.

There were mentions of an enormous Pale Emperor Wasp, Vespa imperator khloros, by a scholar called Vendor Hast, which was the earliest mention of the creature. Hast’s scribblings seemed a little inconsistent, so she did not set great store by his theories.

The most encouraging text was written by an Ysla-based academic called Venghaus, who had written on what he claimed was an encounter with something called the Mourning Wasp. He was more specific in his observations: saying that the creature’s overactive saliva gland secreted a substance that corroded its flesh, thus leaving it with a mostly skull-like appearance. He had suggested the use of ‘heavy clubs and cudgels’ for dealing with the pest — the numbers of people on his expedition had been halved upon contact with the species. Venghaus was the only writer to have made a sketch of the creature, hovering in the air. It looked both macabre and mesmerizing. Of the ability for people to sit on top of the wasps, as depicted in the cave paintings, Venghaus did not mention anything.

Despite the effects of the war, Villiren was still a busy city. The streets had begun to settle back into their old ways: bawdy bars kicked out those who were a couple of drinks the wrong side of the night, only for them to then go and piss their expenditure up against the wall around the back. People in long waxed coats began offering her dubious substances from the shadows, illicit fluids or bark scrapings, which could either heighten your experience of the evening or do absolutely nothing, depending on the dealer you found. There were working girls here, too, though far fewer than before. They stood almost between the moonlight and the shadows, trying to catch the attention of passers-by. Behind them, their pimps loitered, knives tucked into their sleeves, waiting. Land trilobites had returned as well, their strange, shiny shells catching the light from windows as they scuttled into the alleys. Though these waist-high creatures had once found work carrying tools for the stevedores, ever since the presence of the Okun no one really trusted anything with an exoskeleton. Now trilobites could be found drinking from puddles or scouring mounds of rubbish for existence.

The dark economy flourished.

Any hopes Jeza had that the war might have purged such goings-on from the streets of Villiren had vanished. Nothing would stop these discreet forces. Yet despite the dangers, in spite of the rancid smells and questionable people, Jeza did enjoy these evenings. The bitter coastal breeze brought her to her senses after a long day spent cooped up in the factory. It made her feel alive. And there was a definite buzz around the group ever since their first genuine commission from the commander. A downpayment had come through and they were now in possession of the one thing they had craved for years.

Respect.

The manufacture of Imperial armour had not stopped when Brynd left the city on his urgent business. He said he would return promptly once a small matter was seen to, and she took the decision then to industrialize their process further. They opened one of the many unused rooms in the factory, cleared out junk and rubbish, and employed some friends of friends to kit out the place as a vast storage facility so it would become a warehouse for armour. It wasn’t long before they had the better part of a thousand of the new-style breastplates on the racks. The gang tested their work on other sections of body armour until they had enough examples to show Brynd. Then they started their first thorough explorations on the art of raising the Mourning Wasp.

They could do this without having to do shitty conversion jobs for cultists. They now had the luxury of having money. Some of the gang had resisted the urge to buy the first thousand things they saw. Even in a post-war Villiren, they could still get their hands on nice clothes, decent drinks, tasty food. The army paid well, it seemed, and the group couldn’t quite work out what to do with all the money. Jeza decided she would save hers. She would perhaps see if she could get a passage to Ysla, where the cultists lived in some kind of utopia. The weather was warmer there.

Somehow news had got out concerning their manufacture of military gear and there had been a request to meet her, one on one, in a tavern on the far side of the Ancient Quarter, in an area untouched by the war.

The note came from a man called Malum.

She thought to herself, what if the deal with the army collapses? What if the commander had to pull out of the contract? If she was going to be a legitimate businesswoman, she would need another plan, something to fall back on.

So she had decided to go on her own, yet for her own safety was secretly wearing one of her own pieces of armour designed to fit her small frame. I don’t want to get stabbed with all that money sitting there unspent in a bank vault, she thought.

As she headed towards the agreed meeting point, by way of the enormous Citadel, she noticed something strange occurring down one of the side streets. There, amidst the rubbish sacks discarded by the nearest bistro, was a hunched figure rooting around in the darkness.

For some reason, Jeza’s curiosity got the better of her and she sauntered cautiously towards the person: it was a human, a woman and, surprisingly, her black clothes seemed to be well cut, though more fitted for combat than anything else. In fact, everything about the quality of the clothing and neatness of her hair suggested that she was from a good background.

Not a beggar then, Jeza thought. Has she fallen on hard times?

Jeza tentatively said, ‘Hi,’ and the woman snapped around to face her. Blood was drooling from her mouth and smeared all over her right cheek, but she didn’t seem injured. In her hands were the remains of something fleshy. Jeza’s gaze followed the trail of blood by her feet and back up the alley — this suggested that the rest of the fleshy thing at the woman’s feet had been dragged here. It had not been found here, discarded by the bistro.

That realization made Jeza’s skin crawl.

The woman looked at her — right through her, in fact, as if she was in some kind of trance. Jeza remained utterly still. Somewhere in the distance she heard a pterodette screech.

‘Who are you?’ Jeza asked the woman. ‘Do you need any help?’

The attempt at conversation seemed to draw the woman out of her state. Her gaze relaxed, and settled more naturally on Jeza. ‘Are you all right?’ Jeza held out her hand, though drew it back hesitantly when she remembered the bloody flesh.

‘I. . I must be going,’ the woman muttered, her voice incredibly refined, her accent from the west; and suddenly she dashed past Jeza and back out into the city. She had dropped something on her way and, after peering around cautiously, Jeza examined it-

She lurched back in horror. It was a child’s arm, and very definitely mauled around the fleshy muscles of the forearm. Who was that? Had they killed a child? The woman seemed far too normal to have done such a thing.

A bell-tower struck in the distance, and Jeza realized she had to be moving on. Reluctantly, and now feeling a little sick, she stumbled out of the alley and back into the night.

The tavern was surprisingly clean and decent for Villiren. It had all its windows intact and the door had not been ripped off its hinges.

There was no graffiti on any of the walls and no bad smells. Though it was crammed into a row of whitewashed buildings, it seemed big enough to hold a regular flow of respectable clientele.

Inside was a large fireplace near the bar, and plenty of warmth. She ordered herself just a tea — she didn’t want to drink when she had to be alert — and took a seat in a plush armchair by the fire. Brass accoutrements hung on the walls, with shoddy-looking paintings, and a fug of smoke had stained the ceiling. There weren’t as many people inside as she thought there would be, but those who were there seemed solitary, quiet types, which suited her fine.

She sat for a while contemplating the place. Eventually a man with stubble, wearing a long wax coat and a tricorne hat, approached her. He was handsome, bore a scar or two on his face and moved towards her with an effortless cool.

‘You got my message.’ His voice was gravelly. For a moment she thought she saw two animalistic fangs in his mouth.

She nodded.

‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Name’s Malum.’

‘Jeza.’ She watched him slump into the chair with grace.

‘So then, you’re the girl who’s got the underground talking.’

‘I try not to listen to rumours,’ she replied.

Malum laughed and she couldn’t tell whether or not he was mocking her.

‘Look, I’m interested in your military gear,’ Malum continued. He smiled. He looked around sheepishly before he leaned in a little closer. ‘You’re doing business with that albino commander, am I right?’

Jeza nodded, intrigued as to how much he already knew about the dealings. She was, for now, thankful he was treating her like an adult and not speaking down to her.

‘Does he pay well?’ Malum asked.

Another nod; she didn’t want to betray the commander.

‘You’re a closed book, young lady,’ Malum said. ‘I respect someone who’s got secrets — but you can treat me like a business client. I’m interested in purchasing your wares, and I’m also interested in the range of wares that you deal in. Trust me as much as you want to, but I don’t do business with people I don’t believe in. I have faith in your operation. I like what I’ve heard.’

‘What’s your business exactly?’ Jeza enquired.

‘I’m a trader, of sorts,’ he replied coolly. ‘I tend to deal in whatever I can get my hands on, in just about every ware you can think of; but I also deal in private security, or settling scores for people. Sometimes a contract needs enforcing and, in the absence of any decent Inquisition around here, businesses need a little kick now and then. I’m increasingly in demand — things are changing in Villiren.’

‘What things?’

‘Tensions, mainly. You know of the aliens to the south of the city?’

‘I’ve heard a little about them, but not much.’

‘Big encampment — like a new city filled with all sorts of weird, deadly creatures. It’s causing a lot of worries with many important folk in this city, business leaders, local representatives, bankers. They’re worried that these things are just going to come and take over when the city needs stability. They don’t belong here, you see. They’ll upset the balance and do strange things. There’s talk of creatures coming in to the southern fringes of the city and eating pets; even one report of a child being eaten by them.’

Jeza thought of the woman earlier, in the alleyway. ‘It’s a difficult situation that everyone in this city finds themselves in.’

‘Those aren’t your words, that’s the commander speaking,’ Malum grunted, but he didn’t seem angry. ‘It’s all right for the likes of the powerful — they can get to make decisions and influence whatever they want. For the average man or woman on the street, this is really frightening.’

‘Do you see yourself as a man of the people?’ Jeza asked.

Malum eyed her. She couldn’t tell a thing about his thoughts from his neutral expression.

‘Not as such.’ He smiled. ‘But there’s money to be made in representing their concerns.’

‘At least you’re honest,’ Jeza chuckled dryly.

‘That, young lady, I am.’

There was a pause in conversation while two men ordered drinks from the bar, and Malum and Jeza waited until they had moved on.

‘So,’ Malum continued, ‘I find myself in an interesting situation. I might be looking for all sorts of solutions, to help appease concerns of the city folk, so I’d be intrigued as to the kinds of things you deal in. Tell me what you’re all about.’

Jeza explained the operation at the factory, glossing over the new armour and finishing with her ambitions for synthetic creatures. She skirted over the intricacies of the operation, but let him know just enough — that they were good, that they could be trusted. Malum remained silent as she talked, letting her do all the work.

Once she had said her piece, Malum spoke again.

‘Now, I can’t tell you my specific business with representing the interests of the people of this city, but I can tell you this — I’m interested in all you have to say, particularly with these creatures. I’ve always been a fan of such beings — they can cause a lot of damage.’

‘I don’t want our creations causing harm!’

‘They won’t be — I wouldn’t worry. All I’m interested in is helping people.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘You make me out to be the monster here — you’re the girl that makes them. I’m a businessman, plain and simple.’

‘Good.’

‘Now,’ Malum said, standing. She could see a small blade sheathed at his hip, and for the first time she became nervous. ‘I’ll be in touch, Jeza. I needed to know what you had and I’m impressed.’

Jeza had a vague thought that if he was a criminal of sorts, he wouldn’t be able to match the military. ‘We do charge quite a lot, given what the commander has given. .’

Malum gave a wry smile. ‘I can afford twice whatever he’s paying, don’t you worry. I’m a professional. I’d also like to see some of these creatures for myself, when they’re finally finished. How long, do you think, until they’re ready?’

‘They’ll be ready when they’re ready,’ Jeza replied, ‘but you should know that most of them never make it.’

Malum seemed satisfied with her answer, and slunk out into the night, leaving Jeza with an uneasy feeling. However, if she cancelled potential business purely because someone made her feel uneasy, they would never make a living.

When Jeza arrived back at the factory, the others were still up making their usual racket. They were eating fried fish, which she could smell from some distance. The place was a mess again. It seemed no matter how much money they had, no matter how much respect they were accumulating, they would forever be kicking around boxes of junk, food containers, or empty bottles.

‘Guys,’ Jeza announced profoundly. ‘I think it’s about time we hired a cleaner.’

‘Place is fine as it is,’ Coren called out. ‘Besides, we’ve too much sensitive stuff here — cleaners could go messing with things they don’t know about. Anyway, how’d it go tonight? Who was the mystery man?’

‘It went pretty well actually,’ she replied. ‘His name was Malum and he seemed interested in the monsters. Said he could pay well, too.’

‘That’s the main thing,’ Coren replied.

‘Yes. The thought occurred to me that we’d need a back-up if the thing with the commander fell through. If we can get this guy on board we can build up a decent and secure set of projects. Diggsy, did you buy those new relics that were uncovered in Saltwater the other day?’

‘Yup,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got two crates of them sitting in the next room. It was a good idea to spend some money investing — there might be some really useful things there. I’ve heard about a few underground markets after buying these — there are levels below ground that not even cultists know about. We’re about to enter a much bigger scene. There’s also a few pieces that might help with the development of the Mourning Wasp and speed that process up.’

‘Jeza, what’s on your mind?’ Coren asked. ‘You look as though not a word of that went in your ears.’

‘I also saw something weird tonight. There was this woman — decent-looking, well-to-do type, and she was. . well, she had a child’s arm in her mouth. It was like she was in a trance.’

‘Oh, you’ve seen the Cannibal Lady,’ Coren said excitedly. He stuck his fork into a piece of fish before dropping it on the floor. ‘Aw shit.’

‘You know about her already?’ Jeza asked. ‘Is that her name then?’

Coren leaned back up and put the fallen fish in his mouth, much to everyone’s disgust. ‘They’re calling her that, yeah,’ he continued, while munching. ‘And I don’t know all that much, just that there’s been talk in a few of the bars around the Ancient Quarter. She’s been spotted quite a few times, and on each occasion she’s been seen, it’s been the same thing — her, somewhere secluded, munching on flesh. They say she’s some kind of animal.’

‘Do they say where she came from?’ Jeza asked. ‘Is she one of the creatures from the south of the city? Malum mentioned there had been sightings of things coming into Villiren and taking people.’

‘Could be.’ Coren nodded. ‘Though they say this one didn’t so much as come from the south, but was here already. People are whispering that the Cannibal Lady comes from the Citadel.’