Nights of Villjamur by Mark Charan Newton

here with awkward gaits before sunrise.
    Weighing up all these possibilities, Jeryd was trying to build a picture.
    Delamonde Rubus Ghuda. The victim - a human male, in his forties - was a senior member of the Villjamur Council. His ribcage had been opened and exposed in a most bizarre way. The robes had just melted away around the wound, and some of his flesh appeared as if it had been scooped out. There were no traces of anything else around the corpse. Jeryd had never seen such an injury before.
    This made a difference from the usual crimes he investigated. An old rumel like Jeryd could easily become bored with his job: people only ever committed the same few misdemeanours. You had murders, usually affairs of the heart; people stole things because they couldn't afford them; then you had the excesses of drug addicts. Generally it was about people either snatching more from life, or people trying to escape it completely.
    But this crime had indications of something else . . .
    Tryst paused alongside him.
    'Not a pretty sight,' Jeryd observed.
    'Indeed not.'
    'What's this?' Jeryd shuffled over to one side, dabbed his finger to a cobble. A blue substance stuck to it.
    'Must be paint,' Tryst suggested, 'from the gallery. Load of paint pots stored back there.'
    Jeryd stood up, wiped the finger on his robe. 'No witnesses yet from there?'
    'I'll get someone to ask questions. Knock on a few doors, maybe. I'm not hopeful, though.'
    'Get one of the others onto it immediately. I need to know if there was anything remotely strange going on here. Anyone unusual walking by. Any scuffles or swordfights, anything. And we need to find out what he was up to last night and earlier this morning.'
    'OK.' Tryst turned to go.
    'Meanwhile don't tell anyone about this,' Jeryd continued. 'I'll contact the Council myself, let them know. We can't do with this getting out just for the moment. The people who witnessed him die didn't necessarily realize his position, and I don't want Emperor Johynn finding out via rumours. Bohr knows, it'd just become part of a conspiracy in his head.'
    Jeryd walked slowly to the far end of the alley, glancing up through the morning drizzle at three spires visible in the distance, and at the bridges that arced between them.
    Tryst interrupted his thoughts. 'Investigator, should we take him back to headquarters now?'
    Jeryd slipped his hands in the pockets beneath his robe. He was studying the dead-end behind, where a heap of garbage lined the side wall of the gallery. Considering himself a man of the Arts, he had always wanted to visit all the galleries, but had never quite found the time for this one. Marysa had often mentioned it, painting a wonderful picture he never quite got to see. Then again, she always did exaggerate. He'd seen far too much crime here over the years for him to look at this part of the city with naivety. Especially nearby Caveside, where the buildings themselves breathed decay.
    'Yes, get him back now,' Jeryd said. 'We could do with wrapping this up as soon as possible.'

F OUR

    They rode past hundreds of refugees camped alongside the Sanctuary Road. The numbers grew daily, conditions worsened. Filthy children ran between tents on either side of the road, where grassy banks had become mud baths. Livestock had been brought, too, and makeshift pens had been constructed. The previous evening's fires had been reduced to ashes overnight. This morning faces were glum, and they looked at him with a sense of embarrassed pleading - these were people, unused to poverty, who had never dreamed that this might be where they'd end up.
    Another city was growing outside the city.
    People had come here in hope. Hope that they wouldn't be left to freeze in the wild when the ice came. Hope that the Empire's main city would be able to house them in its labyrinth. Hope that there would be enough food and warmth. They'd come from Kullrun, Southfjords, Folke, Y'iren, Tineag'l, Blortath - heard in their accents. They had