21 The Twelve

ON A PARTICULARLY fine day, with little cloud and a wash of orange sunshine bathing the capital, Threadfin Todder sat in the chill gloom indoors on a lone bench, before twelve paladins.

Twelve. He’d counted them three times, while they chatted among themselves, pretending he didn’t exist, and no doubt waiting for him to leave. He waited, pretending at patience, knowing his sister had gone to some lengths to organize this meeting. Felt like a trial.

Twelve. He checked every face, searching for one he knew belonged to Rajax. He’d seen the man once, but if he was truly Volcanos, the most ancient of angels, he could have changed his features. He’d inquired such of Raziel, who had admitted it was possible, although he thought it was likely Rajax had already fled. Still, there might be something useful he could glean from these old crows.

And, I can’t use my magic to try and expose him, lest the Grim has me writhing on the floor and retching up the Spectrum knows what. Wouldn’t that surprise this lot?

Having familiarised himself with each of them, with his sister’s help, he thought he might be able to get them on his side. It would require ingenuity, some outright lying, and perhaps some arm twisting.

Always lie if you don’t need to tell the truth, and even then, lie. Another law he should have written up. He’d have Nipper working day and night at this rate. Not like he did much else apart from filching everything shiny in sight. He tried to put that problem aside for later.

‘This is highly irregular,’ barked Paladin Furious, a particularly elderly and cantankerous breather, at last acknowledging Threadfin’s presence. His rheumy, red-rimmed eyes stared down in judgement. ‘Most irregular.’

‘Our time is money,’ added Motive beside him, ‘and you are wasting it.’

‘We are not accustomed to being summoned to our own Pantheon.’ This was Creed, an elderly woman, but one still in good health and with a suggestion of agility. She glared down at Threadfin and he realised she was one to watch.

He had examined every face. Especially the new one which made up the number of twelve. A face he did not recognise, and a paladin his sister hadn’t known about. Paladin Virtue, he’d overheard another call her. A young woman freshly appointed and with nothing by way of a reputation.

‘Where is Rajax?’ the viral mage demanded, in the end deciding not to be careful. After all, it wasn’t in his nature. ‘You know, the one who was youngest of you lot, the one less likely to piss himself in bed?’ It seemed Virtue was the youngest now. Very young.

Silence filled the black marbled chamber, as twelve Paladins watched him, faces unreadable. Well, except for Virtue, who looked nervous. She fidgeted a bit. Interesting.

Eventually, Creed answered him. ‘There is no such one by that name here. We agreed to this meeting out of respect for Sarscha Todralan and her martial accomplishments. We will not be insulted in our Forum, however.’

Got your attention though, didn’t I? Not used to someone on this lonely bench giving it back to you, eh? ‘Rajax was the Governor of Lame and he was a paladin of your bloody Church. You knew him, or do you deny he existed?’

‘We are not here to be interrogated,’ Furious spat. ‘Whatever power you think you have beyond these walls, does not apply in the Forum. This is a place of commerce and knowledge, not dark magic.’

Threadfin stood, rubbing at his butt, which felt sore from the cold marble. He had a lot less flesh on his bones for cushioning than a breather. ‘I am an imperial mage, the imperial mage in fact, and I command the viral horde. A horde, which has spread throughout this city, with many more beyond in the wider world. I think you would afford me some respect, old one.’

Furious spluttered, rendered speechless, while the others muttered and mumbled, but Threadfin’s eyes were on Creed. She’s the one I need to convince.

‘There is sometimes a rotation of personnel within the Forum,’ she conceded after a moment of contemplation. ‘You are a dangerous one,’ she added. ‘We are aware of your ... exploits, and we are not impressed nor amused. Do not think you can intimidate us, Mr. Todder.’

The emphasis on his chosen name wasn’t lost on him. He grinned up at her, and at each of them in turn, giving them an eyeful. Took a while, there being twelve and all, but he felt determined today. He had lowered his hood too, just to make sure they knew who they were dealing with.

Might have been something Nipper had put in his tea this morning, or his bowl of guck with a side of rare grolg shank. Whatever it was, he felt powerful. ‘Impressing you ancient-wrinkled-money-grabbing-gutter-rats isn’t my concern.’ He paused for effect, and then added, ‘I don’t think you know where Rajax is, do you? Yes, I see it in your faces. You haven’t a clue.’

‘What we know or do not know is for us to know,’ snapped Motive.

Threadfin smirked. Looks like I hit a sore spot, although at their age, I’m sure they have lots of those. Breathers! ‘I see. Well, since I’m here, I might as well inform you he has come to our attention. The Black Palace believes him a threat to our beloved imperium, and as you can imagine, we wish to locate him.’

Sarscha had decided on a plan to flush Rajax out. Put the pressure on, initiate a hunt, and perhaps Volcanus would come to them. After all, if he’d hidden this long among them, he obviously wanted to remain in the shadows. Likely, he would not be able to tolerate such scrutiny. A longshot perhaps, but there were other tricks.

‘Members of the Church,’ began Motive, ‘are only answerable to—’

Creed raised one finger, cutting him off. He scowled at her, but held his tongue. ‘What do you mean, a threat? We have heard nothing of this.’

Threadfin, had he been a breather, would’ve taken a deep breath first, but since he wasn’t, simply said, ‘He’s a Fallen One.’

Silence.

‘Actually, the Father of the Fallen Ones.’ Nothing like the old brutal truth sometimes, which no one ever believes anyhow. Lies are much easier to swallow.

The silence deepened.

‘Oh please, I know you’ve heard of them especially since a certain Liviana Avitus took the throne in a bloodbath not long ago. Perhaps you did not believe the rumours, but let me tell you, they were true. She was a Fallen One too, or more accurately, she was possessed by one.

‘There was another also, a former member of your church’s militant wing. I think the name Canaan Pen Luthus might carry some weight? Don’t bother with your denials. Everyone remembers the Exemplar Red Cloaks.’ His smile was now all teeth. ‘Especially me. After all, those fanatics carried out your orders.’

‘This rumour regarding Rajax,’ asked Creed, not looking at all flustered, which couldn’t be said for the others, ‘is it also true?’

‘We must find him,’ Threadfin replied.

‘Why should we care?’ demanded Virtue, speaking for the first time, although her voice was shaky. ‘The Forum has nothing to do with political matters and especially not ecclesiastical ones.’ She was a lot younger, now he saw her properly, with no hint of grey in her hair.

Something about her bothered him, though. He stared at her a moment and then he knew. It was instinct, a feeling or something, but he knew. It could not be a coincidence.

‘Oh, no reason for you to be worried, I’m sure,’ he said, finally getting to the lying bit. ‘It’s just we have it on good authority he wants all your money. Not that we care about you, but we do require some of that money, and if he steals it then what do we get?’

‘Which money?’ Furious squeaked, sitting bolt upright with a spasm crossing his face. Threadfin could see him mentally accounting for every dralan from copper to gold in every town and city across the world.

The viral mage smiled, knowing he had them. Even the hint of a threat to their coin was enough. Whether they believed him or not, wasn’t the point. When it came to wealth, they were like protective mothers. Just the idea was enough to set their teeth on edge. They would take no chances.

‘Why, my dear paladins, he wants all of it.’