The Power and the Glory

Book 3 Chapter XVIII: On the Rampage

The gate gave way with a crash. The crowd rushed in, groaning and screeching like they were possessed. Kitri pressed herself against the roof. She didn't dare to move until the noise had died down. At last she risked sitting up. The courtyard was full of the crowd, who had now gone back to behaving like statues.

So they only attack when they hear something. Kitri filed that information away for future reference.

On her hands and knees she crawled along the roof. If she could climb from here onto the roof next door, and from there to the one beyond that, she was bound to reach somewhere the crowd hadn't invaded yet. Maybe she'd even find a horse she could borrow, because she didn't fancy her chances of outrunning an entire mob if they decided to chase her. Or best of all she might be able to reach the post office and send a telegram to the nearest city with a large police station.

But first she had to get off this roof. Slowly... slowly... Don't make any noise... Slowly...

After what felt like an eternity she reached the edge of the roof. The house next door wasn't as tall as hers. There was a drop of about two feet between the roofs.

Kitri looked down at the courtyard. The people still weren't moving. From here she could see into her neighbour's garden. It was empty, but its gate was wide open. Trying to escape through there would take her out onto the street.

She took a deep breath and swung her legs over the side of her roof. With a shove she slipped down onto her neighbour's. Her landing made only the softest of thuds. Kitri watched the crowd nervously. None of them reacted.

Now that she had the time to study them at leisure she realised that their clothes weren't stained only with their victims' blood. Many of them had gaping wounds in their faces and chests. Some were missing arms. One had lost half of its face. Bare bone showed through the mess of exposed muscle. No one could survive such horrific injuries. For the first time it dawned on Kitri that these people weren't just possessed. They were actually undead. And their victims became undead too.

Abi has a lot to answer for.

~~~~

When Siarvin made his mind up to do something -- or make someone else do something -- he proved to be very determined. Before Ilaran knew it his suitcases were packed and he was practically frog-marched to the train station. Siarvin sent a short telegram ahead of him. It would probably reach Tananerl at the same time Ilaran did.

"Now remember, take a break from all sorts of stress for at least two weeks," Siarvin said. He sounded so much like Nuvildu in one of his fussy moods that it almost hurt. "I'll come straight to Tananerl and drag you out of your office if I hear you've gone back to work."

Ilaran listened with a mixture of amusement and something half-way between confusion and embarrassment. It had been centuries since anyone cared so much about his well-being. Not even Kivoduin would ever have the audacity to order him to stop working.

"But I have to do some work," he protested, more to see what Siarvin's reaction would be than because he truly objected.

Siarvin bristled as if he'd announced his intention to seek out the most stressful work imaginable. "You will do nothing of the sort! Your secretary or whatever she is can handle all of your work. She's done it perfectly well while you were here."

He was right, of course. Ilaran wasn't allowed onto the train until he'd promised not to so much as look at any paperwork.

Amidst all the chaos of being forced to leave so unexpectedly Ilaran hadn't even been able to notify the empress in person of his departure. He certainly hadn't had a chance to talk to Abihira. But when the train had pulled out of the station and he had time to think, he finally realised what it was he wanted to tell her.

Being possessed had done something to his mind. The parasite was gone but it had left traces of its presence. (He hoped that didn't mean he was in danger of getting possessed again. Just in case it did, he would make it a high priority to consult an exorcist when he got home.) And those traces were reacting to something. He didn't know how to describe it even in his own mind. But it was as if they sensed something far away and were trying to reach out to it.

~~~~

Everyone in the palace waited with baited breath for a reappearance of the disease. Two weeks passed. No one took sick. The people who had been sick showed no signs of being any the worse for wear. By now no one had any doubt it had been a curse. But all of them assumed the curse was broken.

Mirio wasn't so sure. No self-respecting magician would cast a curse that could be so easily broken. And Lian had only taken it out of Zi Yao's body, not the other patients.

"Could you have broken the entire curse just by curing one person?" he asked during one of their increasingly frequent meetings for tea.

Lian shook his head. "I've never heard of that happening before. You see, a curse is... It's like a spider-web." He turned away from the table and rummaged through his desk. At last he found a sheet of paper. He picked up the brush and drew a circle in the middle. "This is the centre of the web. The spider -- the person who cast the curse -- is here. And the curse itself," he drew lines extending from the circle, "is here. In all of these lines. One going to each victim, but all leading back to the caster."

Mirio studied the drawing. "Then is the caster also a victim?"

He'd heard of curses like that. They'd always struck him as very badly-thought-out. What was the point of killing someone when you'd just die too? It was like cutting off your nose to spite your face.

Lian shrugged. "Probably not, but there have been stupid spell-casters before."

"But the curse wouldn't end with their death," Mirio said thoughtfully, remembering the last time he'd heard of a case like that. "So that's not what happened here." He leant forward to examine the drawing more closely. "A spider can always feel when its web is disturbed. So taking the metaphor further, whoever cast the curse would feel you breaking it. They must have panicked and cancelled the curse."

Lian nodded slowly. He looked as unconvinced as Mirio felt. But it was the best explanation either of them could come up with.

At least there was one good thing. Whoever had cast the curse was unlikely to cast it again. It would be much too obvious. As things were, everyone was content to pretend it had just been an outbreak of a previously-unknown disease -- mainly because the king had already figured out the culprit had to be one of his own family. Mirio had no doubt that he was investigating behind the scenes, just as he had no doubt that the results of his investigation would never be made known. In a few months someone might be sent off to a distant part of the kingdom, supposedly as a promotion, but the truth would always stay buried.

After a few minutes' silence Lian changed the subject. "What's your sister like? The one who's coming here, I mean."

How was he supposed to describe Abi? "She's the sort of genius who's a complete idiot most of the time. Imagine a child who's been given caffeine and let loose in a magic academy and you've got an idea of the chaos Abihira causes."

Lian raised his eyebrows. "...And the empress thought she's a good choice for a diplomatic mission?"

To be perfectly honest Mirio would rather have sent a hyperactive chimpanzee on a diplomatic mission and he could only assume Abi's selection was the result of a terrible lapse in judgement. He opted for a more tactful answer instead. "Maybe the empress hopes giving Abihira some responsibilities will make her mature."

"We must hope it succeeds then," Lian said. He smiled wryly. "At any rate she can't be as much of a disaster as the last ambassador from Jirinkaghanat. That idiot started two blood feuds and offended nine noble clans within a week of his arrival."

"Don't jinx it," Mirio warned. "There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that Abi can't do when she feels like it."