The God Tattoo: Untold Tales from the Twilight Reign (36 page)

‘If you want to be sure, find someone with a spark of magic – that way they know what they’re dealing with, can add some force if necessary, and discover whether they were
successful. There’s always the possibility that you just piss the spirit off and it tries to claw your head off, so maybe being able to handle a more physical confrontation would be a good
idea too.’

‘And what are we paying you for these intangible services?’ Gennay demanded, refusing to be cowed by some unsmiling renegade priest.

‘You think I’m a fraud? Hah, you’re more like your brother than I first thought.’ At last Unmen Karanei did smile, but it was grudgingly done and fleeting.
‘I’m here as a favour to Master Emin – this cock-sure little sod sticks his nose in more than he should, but he’s helped me in the past. As for being sanctioned by the
cults, of course I am – stipended too, so don’t you worry about me demanding payment off anyone.’

He continued on to the main door and thumped on it for the night watchman, Bewen, to admit them. Gennay gave her brother a look but he pointedly ignored her as he sauntered past, his usual
infuriating smile on his lips, and she found she didn’t have the energy to upbraid him further. When Bewen pulled the heavy door open he gave a start at the sight of Karanei, but managed to
compose himself well enough to bow as the priest of Death swept past.

Gennay watched the man do a quick scout of the great hall, assessing every room and exit in a glance, before reaching into his voluminous sleeve to fetch something from underneath. It was left
to Emin to offer Bewen a half-explanation and relieve the man of the keys, firmly ushering the bemused watchman out and shutting the door on him.

‘There, we’re alone now. The other scribes won’t be in today, I sent them all a message last night.’

‘Good, scribes tend to be an excitable lot. The last thing I need right now is a load of them shrieking like eunuchs.’

Karanei extracted a slim bag from his robe and produced a misshapen stick of chalk from it. He went to the furthest door, which led to the north wing, and drew a large rune with swift, confident
strokes, muttering under his breath as he did so. Out from this he drew four lines of script, more angular marks that looked like unfinished runes until he went back over them and overlaid them
with a strange curving script.

‘A charm of protection,’ Emin explained as Karanei went to do the same on the door behind them that led to the guildsmen offices, ‘activated by magic imbued into the
chalk.’

‘Indeed,’ Karanei commented, ‘and merely a precaution, Mistress Thonal – I take my personal safety rather more seriously these days. Emin, do you remember your studies
well enough to do the windows?’

Without waiting for an answer the priest reached into his bag again and tossed Emin a second shard of chalk. The young man did as he was told, pausing only for a moment when Karanei went to
inspect his work.

‘Godless wretch,’ the priest muttered sourly at what Emin had drawn on the windowsill, a simpler symbol than Karanei’s but still nothing Gennay recognised.

Whatever Emin had done, Karanei’s expression soured but he made no effort to erase the image, only touching a finger to the runes and moving on to the next. Before long the room was
finished and he produced a small lumpy candle which he proceeded to rub the wick of like a firestick until it sputtered alight. He set the candle on the floor and sat before it, palms angled
towards its flame as though he was warming his hands.

Emin beckoned to Gennay and led her to the stairs, heading up until they were standing beside her desk and only able to see Karanei’s head over the balustrade.

‘He’s going to be a while,’ Emin whispered, perching on the corner of her desk. ‘Rather than do some general exorcism he’ll give the energies in the building a
gentle nudge, see what’s here and whether there’s any point.’

‘And if there is?’

‘He’ll slap it down pretty hard most likely – don’t worry, it won’t even notice us in the meantime.’

‘I thought ghosts only came out at night?’

Emin shook his head. ‘No; well, yes I suppose, but they’re always there – it’s just under dark they’ve got more power and people are more likely to be afraid at
night, which makes them more susceptible.’

‘So any ghost would be sleeping now?’

‘Something like that.’ Emin fell silent and returned his attention to Karanei.

It was clear he didn’t want to talk any longer so Gennay busied herself with the index cards she had abandoned the previous evening, too tired to face the school’s accounts just yet.
No more than ten minutes later, the priest called up to them and made Gennay jump with surprise.

‘Emin, is this one of your jokes?’

The young man hopped up and went to the balustrade. ‘Jokes? What are you talking about?’

‘That twisted sense of humour you believe you’re famed for,’ Karanei said with a note of irritation. ‘If so, I don’t get the joke and nor do I appreciate
it.’

Emin glanced back at Gennay, then shook his head. ‘No joke, I give you my word. Why? What have you found?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ Karanei eased himself upright, his face a picture of puzzlement. ‘This is an old building and a man died in the street outside, but there’s
nothing here. No breath, echo, whisper or scent on the breeze.

‘The building isn’t just empty, it’s been scoured clean. I’ve only ever seen this after an exorcism; the Library of Seasons itself is no more dead than this
place.’

At Emin’s request, Karanei performed an exorcism anyway, keeping his muttered complaints to a muted minimum. Emin had seen how Gennay had taken the priest’s verdict
and it worried him. Instead of being comforted by the reported lack of ghosts her shoulders had fallen and her attention pushed elsewhere. They had sat in silence until Karanei finished, Gennay
shrugging off Emin’s efforts at conversation and staring off towards nothing much.

Even once the priest had left she was not forthcoming, something that worried him further. Gennay made a show of busying herself with the many matters of the school that required her attention,
but Emin could see that neither he, nor the project she was so devoted to, occupied her thoughts.

‘Gennay, talk to me.’

‘I am.’

Emin bit back a frustrated reply. ‘No you’re not, not really. Karanei’s news upset you, didn’t it?’

‘Of course not. The library is not haunted by anything but my fancy; that’s good news.’

‘Is that it? Is that the problem—’

‘Emin, enough!’ Gennay snapped. ‘Stop interrogating me, this is my business, not yours! Whatever the problems in this library they are mine to resolve and do not require the
hand of some overly inquisitive fool who fancies himself as an adventurer.’

‘Hey now, there’s no call to lose your temper.’

‘Isn’t there? Look,’ she said, pointing to the piles of paper on her desk. ‘All this needs to be done and more will have appeared by the end of the week. You may have no
cares in the Land, free to play whatever role you decide, but I don’t have the luxury.

‘I doubt you’ve bothered to think much about my future, but I assure you others have. Grandmother has more than one scheme on the go to marry me off before midsummer’s day.
I’m a nobleman’s daughter, useful only to provide children to some brainless young fool of good breeding, who’ll most likely get drunk one day and find himself spitted on the end
of my brother’s sword for some slight or idiocy.’

Emin took a step back. Gennay was an even-tempered woman and rarely flew into a rage, but once there she was not one to be talked down easily.

‘Well, turning on me won’t help a jot, I’m only here to try and help.’

‘How exactly?’ Gennay asked, slapping the desktop with her palm. ‘Aside from wasting my time with your reprobate acquaintances, what have you done to help beyond sending my
clerks home so another day’s work is lost and the date for the library’s opening a day closer?’

‘Gennay, a man died here yesterday,’ Emin said. ‘You cannot expect his friends and colleagues to march to their desks the following day.’

Gennay took a breath and looked down. ‘I know,’ she admitted, ‘but nor can I afford to fail in this. Sarras was my friend too, but he knew how important this was to me –
as it was to him. It’s my only defence against an arranged marriage and he knew it – why do you think he worked so hard? It wasn’t for the wage I paid him, nor just out of natural
diligence.’

Emin hesitated. ‘Are you saying . . .?’

‘Oh of course not! Don’t be such a bloody child, not everything comes down to sex! He was my friend. Do you understand the concept? He didn’t want anything from me except the
chance to prove he could do a good job, but we were friends and he wanted to help me succeed.’

She rose and prodded Emin in the chest, anger inflamed once more. ‘You’ve never really understood friendship, as contemptuous as you are of all those less intelligent than you, but
one day you’ll have to learn people have a worth that cannot be measured by intellect or strength.’

She stepped back, suddenly deflated and Emin saw her shoulders sag as she continued in a quieter voice. ‘You’re my brother and I love you, but your tendency to see folk as tools to
be used, or problems to be tackled, will be your undoing – mark my words. Now, please Emin, go away. I need to be alone.’

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Nothing he could say would help matters. Gennay just needed her own space to grieve in whatever way she could.

‘As you wish, but I don’t want you to be alone here today.’

‘Emin, I will be fine,’ Gennay said, shaking her head. ‘You heard your friend, there’s no ghost haunting these halls. I . . . I would prefer to be alone.
Please?’

He nodded, unhappy but unwilling to press the matter. ‘I’ll return this evening to look in on you.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Gennay said. ‘You can tell Pirn to come as usual, but I don’t need my brother babysitting me.’

Emin bit his tongue and acceded. As he left, Gennay didn’t look up, but just when he closed the main door behind him Emin heard a small sound emanate from the mezzanine where his sister
sat. Unable to tell whether it was the barest of sobs or a sigh of relief, Emin stood at the door for a dozen heartbeats caught in indecision.

Eventually he turned and headed back across the courtyard to the street beyond. The morning felt warmer than previous days, the wind off the ocean having lessened, but still the young man pulled
his coat tight about him as he walked. Out in the street he looked around at every person in view.

None seemed to pay him any mind, everyone busy about their day when the short winter days curtailed so much, but just as he was about to move off he noticed a shape that could have been a man in
the shadow of a building. He squinted but could make out nothing at that distance. The house was the best part of a hundred yards down the street and it was hard to be sure, but the longer he
looked the more he sensed it was more than just his imagination.

‘Unless my sister’s malaise is catching,’ Emin muttered as he started out towards the building.

Well before he reached it a carriage trundled down the street and obscured his view. It was mere seconds before he could see his destination again and nothing appeared to have changed, but
something told Emin his prey was gone. He walked without haste, crossing the street after the carriage had passed, but once he reached the overhang where a water butt stood the area was certainly
empty.

Emin went as far past the water butt as he could without trespassing, to a small wooden gate a few yards behind. Pushing up onto his toes Emin could just about see over the gate, but there was
only a child in the yard beyond, playing with a long length of rope until she saw him and stopped to stare back.

Satisfied no one had gone that way Emin returned to the water butt, feeling rather foolish now.

‘Clearly it
is
catching,’ he muttered as he stood at the water butt, ‘but this would be a good vantage point. Far enough to remain unobtrusive, but with a direct line of
sight to the courtyard gate.’

His eyes alighted on the water butt itself, an old wooden cask roughly lined with pitch. Its upturned lid was pushed askew and a leaf hovered precariously at the exposed gap. Emin plucked it
away and was about to straighten the battered covering when he noticed a cross had been roughly scratched into the wood. He ran his fingers over the wood; the scratches were light but had been done
by something stronger than a fingernail.

‘As someone might do if they were standing here, watching and waiting.’ Emin smiled and shook his head. ‘But perhaps that’s something of a stretch.’

He chuckled and flipped the lid over so it was the right way up, then straightened it so it sat snug on the butt. On the other side someone had scratched a circle in approximately the same
position.

‘Now that’s curious.’

He ran his fingers over the mark. It hadn’t been made with any great care or skill, nor was it a single, unbroken circle. Instead it had been done in a number of curved strokes,
overlapping and of varying lengths.

‘Which makes it even less likely to be anything significant,’ Emin pronounced at last. He raised the lid and flipped it over quickly. The two symbols did correspond to each other,
but most likely it was just they naturally occupied the same place each time some bored labourer had played with his knife while he waited.

‘For pity’s sake, now I’m looking for a mystery in everything. A cross and a circle mean nothing by themselves. Even combined they’re just a rune without context so why
am I wasting my time?’

Emin slapped the lid back into place and headed back into the street. Gennay clearly didn’t want him at the library, but his interest had been pricked and he wasn’t going to let go
of the matter yet.

‘There are more possibilities to rule out now malign spirits have been,’ he mused.

He took the next turning off the street and started towards the old town district of the city, where many of the city’s mages lived in relative isolation from the chaos of everyday life.
Perhaps one of them would be able to provide the answer.