Farris scanned the room, hoping to find some clues. “How late was it when I arrived at The Glass?”
Jane giggled. “We were about to close when you came barging in, stinking of thainol and shouting my name. You seemed happy to see me… happier than now.”
Farris turned and splashed more water onto his face, rubbing his damp, bloodshot eyes. He picked his head up to see a drained, weary face staring back at him from the grimy mirror above the sink.
This is not a good day for work.
He paused for a moment, listening intently; the faint hum of a resonance-crystal swung gently through the silence.
“No!” Farris frantically patted the dozens of pockets hidden throughout his tunic. “Jane, do you hear that?”
She didn’t answer, but instead stared back with beautiful, confused eyes.
Farris swore as he spotted a tiny crystal lying by his feet, glowing white and resonating softly.
The king wants to see me again. He was probably summoning me all morning. He picked it up.
A forgotten fear twisted his stomach. There could only be one reason why he’d be called again like this, on such short notice.
He knows. The bastard knows we tried to poison him.
He bolted towards the bed and snatched a leather boot, squeezing it on his foot. Dropping to his knees, he searched for the other.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jane, rising to her feet.
The boot lay at the other end of the bed. Farris grabbed it and pulled it on, then made his way towards the door.
“Marc, where are you going? Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?”
“Something came up… I need to go.” Farris Silvertongue had earned his reputation amongst the Simian rebels by being an excellent liar, but this certainly wasn’t his morning. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said firmly, bounding forwards and grabbing his hand. “That’s not good enough. Am I just supposed to wait until you get drunk again? Marc, I want to be with you.”
Farris sighed, fingering the crystal in his other hand. She has no idea who I am. If she knew I worked with the Silverback….
But what was he supposed to tell her? Where could he start?
She doesn’t even know my name.
“It’s best that I go. You… you deserve better than me.”
“Sin’s stones,” she cursed, rolling her eyes. She let go of his hand. “Can’t I decide myself what I deserve? Am I supposed to believe you running off again is somehow doing me a fucking favour?”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you’ll find I understand perfectly well. You want me to think that you’re some sort of cold, emotionless person who I’m better off without, but I know you, Marc. You’re scared. Scared of what we might become if you dared show me any level of honesty!”
Farris paused. How could she know so little and so much at the same time?
“Fine,” he said, turning to leave. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am just afraid.”
“Well, you’re welcome back whenever you grow a damn spine.” Jane followed him to the door. “But as sure as the Tower still stands, I’m not expecting that to be very soon.”
Farris nodded and left, descending the stairs two at a time. Perhaps there was some truth to her words, but he didn’t think on it for long. By the time he reached the bottom of the steps, his thoughts returned to the king.
We should have waited.
The air outside was colder than usual; it brushed through the hair on Farris’s face and brought gooseflesh to his skin. Beneath the silver sky, stalls and stands stretched down Barrow’s Way right over to the Grey Keep: the seat of King Diarmuid, Third of His Name, Nineteenth Incarnate. Its presence roared with power; its mass dwarfed the rest of the city. Farris felt himself sober up immediately.
I could run. I could make my way back to Penance and….
But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He had spent three years infiltrating the Crown, and he knew how powerful its reach was. Even now, spies could be lining the streets, hidden, watching his every move.
Merchants and farmers tried to force their wares upon Farris as he rushed through the market. A toothless Human waved carrots above his head, shouting, “First crop of the year!” even though carrots were in season for the past two moons. Beside him, a young woman was in heated discussion with a Simian merchant over the price of a bronze candlestick. One glance told Farris she was being cheated.
Further up, a bearded preacher stood atop a wooden platform, dressed in fine clothes that Farris was sure were stolen. The Human gestured to the sky.
“Our Lord Seletoth dwells upon Mount Selyth!” he screamed to a group of young men. “The journey may be dangerous, but we must go, brothers! Give to the Lord! Your coin can bring about our salvation!”
Actors living in a city of lies.
As he reached the castle walls, double-wide wooden gates opened, and a procession of knights and soldiers marched out to a loud fanfare of noise and colour.
“Bandits to the north,” muttered a young Simian. A crowd had gathered to see the brave men off. “They’re ambushing caravans on the roads that bypass the Glenn. The sooner Santos’s tunnel is finished, the better.”
“Aye,” agreed Farris, spotting a group of Geomancers in their ranks. “I dream of the day our two great races are brought together through Simian technology.”
It was mostly true. It was only a matter of time before the Silverback declared war on the Crown.
