City Of Ruin by Mark Charan Newton Page A

if only for him to articulate them for himself.
    Jeryd was beginning to like Nanzi more and more. He told her about his first possible case in his new city, about the albino who’d come to his door in the middle of the night whispering his name. She offered no opinion.
    Jeryd said, ‘I’ll need, most of all, someone to show me around the city. You know this place well?’
    ‘I’ve been here a few years now,’ she admitted, ‘but in that time I’ve come to know nearly every passageway, every stall, every cobble, every cobweb.’
    ‘Wouldn’t you rather get out of here with the coming fighting?’ Jeryd felt a sudden curiosity about why people were in Villiren at all.
    ‘Where else would we all go?’ she asked. ‘No one is going to take their chances out in the wilderness, in this weather. None of the other major cities are likely to let anyone in, so all people here have is this place. It might not be pretty here, but there is a great sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, even. And with that comes pride. It’s long been a city of immigrants – from all over these eastern islands. I, myself, am not from here, and I have no family left, so this city is a haven for people like me, who needed to rebuild themselves.’
    Jeryd contemplated her words. Maybe he had been quick to judge the city, too quick to think it lacked soul. As he had said himself moments earlier, those who were more prepared for change generally got on better.
    *
    As they made their way onto the streets heading towards the citadel and the barracks, Jeryd asked Nanzi more about her background, discovering how she had previously travelled around the Archipelago, even found a partner and settled down. Nanzi continued to walk with that distinctive limp, and it made Jeryd speculate on how she might have acquired such an impediment. ‘Were you injured in the line of duty?’
    A pause, a distant gaze. ‘An accident, years ago. It still pains me, if I’m honest, but I’m much better off now than before. Working here is good – not too physically demanding, and I get out and about. That takes my mind off my own problems, which are nothing in comparison with some of the things we see here in Villiren.’
    ‘A noble sentiment. How long have you worked for the Inquisition?’
    ‘Not very long. But, given my accident, I realized how life is short – and I wanted to do some good by serving the city. I want to help wherever I can, to do the right thing for humanity. The Inquisition here is not as efficient or as good-intentioned as I would like – so I try very hard to make a small difference.’
    ‘The good investigator,’ Jeryd declared, ‘is always motivated by positive goals. In the end, when people start to argue over intricacies of the law, all you have is your integrity to fall back on.’
    ‘Things are rather relaxed in the Inquisition here,’ she observed, ‘too much so. Perhaps crimes go unsolved, some not even investigated. The Freeze has changed our priorities to more administrative matters. Many cases still need sorting out. The rumel who work here as investigators are just not interested any more. With the war coming, many such cases simply have had to be overlooked. Burglaries are never talked about, rapes never followed up – women, I find, are particularly hard done by in the culture here – but in some tribal communities you hear of worse. I do what I can in difficult circumstances. And then there are all those missing people . . .’
    ‘People vanish all the time,’ he remarked. ‘The good investigator knows that. He has to start off at the source of information, because if people want to disappear hard enough, they will manage to do so. It’s easy enough never to be seen again. Your source will quickly give you a hint as to whether you are wasting your time. A good investigator cannot afford to waste his time.’
    ‘Or hers.’
    ‘Whose?’ Jeryd said, momentarily puzzled.
    ‘Cannot waste his or her