it, no matter what they were promised, but it would do no good. This bunch would never listen.
No one ever did.
‘All right then, piss off,’ ordered Blaklok, jabbing a thumb towards the door. The gathered crowd needed no further encouragement and began to slink away. ‘Not you Bates.’
Tarquin Bates stopped mid-step.
Thaddeus grabbed the weasily figure by his gold cloak and dragged him to one side as the rest filed past.
This was a distraction, and wouldn’t help him in his task to secure the Key of Lunos, but Blaklok felt compelled to investigate further. If something was afoot, if there was a war brewing between cults, it would serve him well to know about it.
‘So this Earl. Upset someone in the Cistern, did he?’
‘Well that’s the rumour,’ said Bates, showing his array of tombstone teeth. Thaddeus smashed his face against the wall. It hit with a solid thump, knocking the grin, and some of those awful teeth, from Tarquin’s face.
‘Okay. Okay,’ said Bates quickly. ‘Rumour is it was a rival cult. But that’s just rumour. I wasn’t lying about the Cistern. You’ll find your answers there.’
‘What cult?’
‘I don’t know all the details, Blaklok. Give a man some credit.’
Thud! More of Tarquin’s teeth ended up on the floor.
‘Legion! And that’s all I know, I swear it.’
‘Legion? Never fucking heard of them.’
‘Well, you’ve been out of the game for a while haven’t you? No one knows much but apparently someone from the Cult of Legion was asking about the Earl a couple of weeks ago. Where he lives, what he’s into and all that.’
‘Who was asking?’
‘I don’t know his name.’ Thaddeus readied himself to smash Tarquin’s face in again. ‘But I know who does!’ Bates blurted, holding his hands up in supplication. ‘The Ring. They’ll give you a name, they know all the goings on down in the Cistern. That’s all I know, I swear.’
‘You swear? On fucking what, Bates? You’ve broken every coda there is.’ He let go of Tarquin’s robe and wiped his hand on his greatcoat.
‘Well. It’s been pleasant as usual, Blaklok. I’ll see you around.’
‘One more thing,’ said Blaklok. Tarquin stopped again, cringing in expectation of further violence. ‘The next time you feel like educating a bunch of prigs with more money than sense… fucking don’t. Understood?’
‘Yes, of course. Whatever you say, old mate.’
‘And get yourself a bath. You stink.’
‘That was next on my ‘to do’ list.’
Blaklok watched as Bates scurried away.
By the time he stepped outside, the congregation had dispersed into the labyrinth of the Trader’s Precinct. A couple of cloth-of-gold cloaks lay discarded in the square, but otherwise there was no sign of Valac’s postulant worshippers.
‘Are you gonna pay me, mister?’ Thaddeus turned to see the urchin standing behind him, his filthy face looking up expectantly.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘The one with the beard said I’d get five shill afterwards.’
He obviously didn’t realise the danger he had been in. ‘On your bike. Count yourself lucky you didn’t end up dead and dumped in the river.’
The urchin’s face suddenly changed from innocence to rage. ‘Well fuck you baldy!’ With that he spat a gob of filthy phlegm Blaklok’s way and fled.
The spit landed some feet away.
Poor kid, thought Blaklok. Can’t even spit straight. What chance has he got in a place like this?
With that, he set off on the long walk to the Cistern.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There were a thousand ways into the Cistern.
On the murky city streets, steel manholes could be unbolted to reveal tunnels that would lead miles down into the subterranean hive. Certain buildings, disguised as reputable businesses or respectable residences, contained entrances within them that served as conduits to the various underground levels. Then there were the more obvious ways, such as the steam lift that Amelia and her men were now
No one ever did.
‘All right then, piss off,’ ordered Blaklok, jabbing a thumb towards the door. The gathered crowd needed no further encouragement and began to slink away. ‘Not you Bates.’
Tarquin Bates stopped mid-step.
Thaddeus grabbed the weasily figure by his gold cloak and dragged him to one side as the rest filed past.
This was a distraction, and wouldn’t help him in his task to secure the Key of Lunos, but Blaklok felt compelled to investigate further. If something was afoot, if there was a war brewing between cults, it would serve him well to know about it.
‘So this Earl. Upset someone in the Cistern, did he?’
‘Well that’s the rumour,’ said Bates, showing his array of tombstone teeth. Thaddeus smashed his face against the wall. It hit with a solid thump, knocking the grin, and some of those awful teeth, from Tarquin’s face.
‘Okay. Okay,’ said Bates quickly. ‘Rumour is it was a rival cult. But that’s just rumour. I wasn’t lying about the Cistern. You’ll find your answers there.’
‘What cult?’
‘I don’t know all the details, Blaklok. Give a man some credit.’
Thud! More of Tarquin’s teeth ended up on the floor.
‘Legion! And that’s all I know, I swear it.’
‘Legion? Never fucking heard of them.’
‘Well, you’ve been out of the game for a while haven’t you? No one knows much but apparently someone from the Cult of Legion was asking about the Earl a couple of weeks ago. Where he lives, what he’s into and all that.’
‘Who was asking?’
‘I don’t know his name.’ Thaddeus readied himself to smash Tarquin’s face in again. ‘But I know who does!’ Bates blurted, holding his hands up in supplication. ‘The Ring. They’ll give you a name, they know all the goings on down in the Cistern. That’s all I know, I swear.’
‘You swear? On fucking what, Bates? You’ve broken every coda there is.’ He let go of Tarquin’s robe and wiped his hand on his greatcoat.
‘Well. It’s been pleasant as usual, Blaklok. I’ll see you around.’
‘One more thing,’ said Blaklok. Tarquin stopped again, cringing in expectation of further violence. ‘The next time you feel like educating a bunch of prigs with more money than sense… fucking don’t. Understood?’
‘Yes, of course. Whatever you say, old mate.’
‘And get yourself a bath. You stink.’
‘That was next on my ‘to do’ list.’
Blaklok watched as Bates scurried away.
By the time he stepped outside, the congregation had dispersed into the labyrinth of the Trader’s Precinct. A couple of cloth-of-gold cloaks lay discarded in the square, but otherwise there was no sign of Valac’s postulant worshippers.
‘Are you gonna pay me, mister?’ Thaddeus turned to see the urchin standing behind him, his filthy face looking up expectantly.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘The one with the beard said I’d get five shill afterwards.’
He obviously didn’t realise the danger he had been in. ‘On your bike. Count yourself lucky you didn’t end up dead and dumped in the river.’
The urchin’s face suddenly changed from innocence to rage. ‘Well fuck you baldy!’ With that he spat a gob of filthy phlegm Blaklok’s way and fled.
The spit landed some feet away.
Poor kid, thought Blaklok. Can’t even spit straight. What chance has he got in a place like this?
With that, he set off on the long walk to the Cistern.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There were a thousand ways into the Cistern.
On the murky city streets, steel manholes could be unbolted to reveal tunnels that would lead miles down into the subterranean hive. Certain buildings, disguised as reputable businesses or respectable residences, contained entrances within them that served as conduits to the various underground levels. Then there were the more obvious ways, such as the steam lift that Amelia and her men were now
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