“Mauciron is the capital city of the Imperial Realm of Vercellia, and the most populous city of the Southern Shore. Housing almost a million citizens, Mauciron is one of the trading and financial centres of the world, with hundreds of thousands of merchants and traffickers passing through every year.” – Descriptions of the Metropolises of Eastern Talliask, by Sir Richard Allenby
Lyla
II. The Thief
20th of Sun’s Glory, Year 1978 of the Third Era
“So, why’s your hair blue?”
Lyla punched the freckled boy on the shoulder. “No silly questions”, she commanded, mustering as much authority into her voice as possible. Judging by the look on his face, he seemed more indignant than intimidated, more annoyed than servile. Ordering people around was not her strong point.
“It wasn’t a silly question”, grumbled Dante, rubbing the spot where she’d hit him. “The brothers at the Abbey say that I’m gonna be an archivist, a scholar or somethin’. You know what they keep telling me? To search for answers is to search for the Gods.” He shrugged. “All I’m doing is asking questions. Good questions.”
Biting down on a green apple, she chewed for a moment, swallowed and said: “You can ask questions, just not stupid ones.”
“You can call a question stupid as much as you want, but that don’t make it so.”
Lyla sighed, casting her eyes up to the afternoon sky. “Look, it’s a secret. I’m not supposed to tell you.” She leaned closer to him. “You promise not to tell?”
Dante nodded firmly. “You can trust me.”
“You won’t tell the brothers? Even Abbot Enrico?”
Quickly, the freckled boy traced a holy mark across his mouth. “I swear by all the Gods.” He paused, then furrowed his brow. “That’s the most solemn promise you’re wont to get.”
This kid. With a massive yawn, Lyla stretched her arms, kicked up her legs and lay sprawled on the temple stairs, waves of heat emanating from the light, orange stone. For a few moments, she was still and silent, bathing in the sun’s rays, eyes closed against the burning light. Eventually however, when the heat became more detestable than desirable, she threw up her hands, covered her face and said: “Blue is the colour of knowledge, at least that’s what the alchemists think. I’m told that when the Society was founded, the first Keeper was ‘dazzled with blue light from the heavens’ or something, and so now all the members of the Society – even the servants – have to dye their hair blue.” She took another bite of her apple. “So they pursue knowledge, knowledge is blue, and so they dye their hair blue to remind themselves of, well, knowledge. So… that’s why my hair’s blue.” Lyla grimaced and spat, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “Gods, I hate the green ones.”
Dante frowned. “You shouldnt blaspheme you know. It’s a grave sin.”
Lyla rolled her eyes.
He pointed to her firmly. “Hey, I’m just looking out for your soul. Someone has to.”
She punched him again, harder this time. “Save the preaching for when you’re actually a preacher”, she uttered lazily, waving her fist from side to side. “Until then, keep asking your silly questions.”
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the two. Lyla and Dante turned. Standing behind them, his body cutting out the sunlight, was a tall, slender man, donned in simple black robes that fell about his feet. His face was long, his nose sharp, his eyes cold. His curly, shoulder-length hair was the same deep blue as Lylas.
Master Andrea.
For a short while, the man simply looked down on them, saying nothing. Then, he slowly muttered: “Girl… who is this?”
“This is brother Dante”, she answered quickly. “He’s a monk from the Abbey, the Abbey of… the Abbey… uh… um… the Abbey of…”
“Dyma”, Master Andrea finished for her, his mouth thinning slightly. “The Abbey of Dyma. I’m surprised you do not know. You fail the Society with your ignorance.” He turned to Dante. “So you are a monk? An Olmadian monk?”
Dante blushed. “I’m a low monk”, he mumbled, looking at his sandals. “I haven’t been fully inducted yet. There’s no need to call me brother or anything…”
Andrea didn’t seem to be listening. “The Olmadians have no business with the Society of Azure Fire. Go back to tending your scrolls and tomes. They probably need dusting.” He flicked his fingers. “Go!”
Quietly, Dante stood up and hurried away. As he passed, Lyla could see his face was red from embarrassment. She watched him go with regret. He was a good friend, and didn’t deserve such callousness. Sharply, she turned on her master. “That was cruel”, she said, eyes narrowed.
The look on the master’s face showed he couldn’t care less. “The Society conserves its secrets”, he said matter-of-factly. “The Olmadians conserve their own. Your friendships are nothing against the knowledge we keep.” He beckoned with a finger. “Now come, there’s a task you’re needed for.” And with that, he turned on his heel and strode off. Lyla followed after him, half-running to keep up with his long steps.
Most cities in the Empire had been built compactly, so that the denizens dwelling in their walls could move about quickly and easily. Mauciron, however, was not like most cities. She had been raised up over many hundreds of years, with every successive Grand Prince adding bits and pieces to the ever-expanding metropolis. Over the years, travelling around Mauciron had become everything but easy. Some wealthy foreigners had even got into the habit of hiring locals simply for the purpose of figuring out how to get from place to place. So lucrative had this practice become that even the crime guilds had placed a few of their own among the guides, and if the rumours were true had profited a good deal from this endeavour. It was commonly thought that only someone born in Mauciron could ever figure out the city’s ins and outs. Lyla herself held to this view, though even she didn’t know the city half as well as she claimed. Having been born into the slums around the River Ayer, she was most familiar with the winding alleys and flat-roofed houses of Sa Villo Degli and Sacra Mallaro. She still had never ventured to the mansions of the upper boulevards or the government complexes of the State District; though that didnt mean she didn’t intend to.
The Sanctuary of the Society rested on a small hill by the coast, not far away from the docks. Walking from the temple, you could reach it in perhaps ten minutes if you were brisk. Today however was not one for idleness; the roads were packed with citizens and outsiders alike, the bodies so close to one another that it became nearly impossible not to bump into someone every few seconds. So close was Lyla to the passers-by (and so oblivious were they to her) that for just a moment she was tempted to pick a few pockets, or maybe snatch a treat or two from an unfortunate stall-keeper. She decided against it though; this was the wealthier part of town, where hired guards were far more wary than the average garrison militiaman. Besides, if master Andrea ever found out about her thievery, he would certainly dismiss her. That she was not prepared to risk. Instead, she tried her best to avoid who she could. Lyla was small of frame – small enough to easily skip away from blundering customers or duck under flailing limbs. Master Andrea – tall and unagile as he was – found it far more difficult to maneuver through the crowds, and by the time they arrived at the sanctuary it had been almost half an hour.
Leading up the hill was a short flight of pale stairs, though every step made Lyla feel weak. The sun was now right above their heads, with not a cloud in sight to protect them from its burning rays. Panting heavily, she shrugged off her jacket and tucked it under her arm. The white cotton of her shirt clung to her skin. When they reached the top, Lyla stretched, yawned and rubbed her eyes. A heavy drowsiness had gotten hold of her, but she shook her head wildly to dispel any tiredness. Looking up to master Andrea for orders, she was taken aback by the look of shock on his face. Turning her sight to where he was gazing, a sharp chill raced through her body, enough to make her forget the heat for just a second. Surrounding the sanctuary were men dressed in high-collared coats of the deepest black, swords sheathed at their belts and pendants around their necks.
The Inquisition.
Suddenly, master Andrea strode forward, hands clenched into fists. Lyla – not sure what to do – quickly made after him. Seemingly unperturbed, the master walked into the centre of their number, heading toward a man dressed in a red robe and silver cloak. He seemed to be busy giving orders to the others, but when he caught sight of Andrea, he shooed them off and turned to face their approach.
The master was almost out of breath when he halted before him. “Who… are… you?”, he managed, hissing every word.
“I am Inquisitor Torreda”, the robed man answered. “I wish you well on this” – he bowed – “our first meeting.”
“Well I am Andrea, a master of this order, and I do not wish you well. This is a house of learning, not a place for the vandals of the Inquisition.”
The Inquisitor smiled amicably, though in his eyes you could see a glint of cold fury. This was not a man who suffered mockery lightly.
“A house of learning you say?”
“Yes, the finest in all the city.”
“That’s good… very good. Though in truth I really don’t care.” Reaching a gloved hand into his robe, he pulled out a roll of parchment. “I am here on the orders of the High Inquisitor. Your… sanctuary” – he said the word with an exaggerated grimace – “is under suspicion of both sedition and heresy.” He passed the role to Andrea. “I act with the consent of the city. This warrant bears the seal of the Grand Prince.”
The master swatted the paper aside. “I don’t care if it has the seal of the Emperor himself”, he growled, his face inches away from the Inquisitors. “This sanctuary is free of your influence and investigations. I will not allow either.”
Torreda was silent for a while. Slowly, he withdrew the parchment, his mouth curling into a dreadful snarl. “I have no need for your allowance”, he replied in a deadly whisper. “You mistake an order for a request.” Suddenly, his eyes turned to Lyla. It felt as though her heart missed a beat. “Who is she?”, he asked, eyes narrowed.
Andrea put a hand on her shoulder. “A novice”, he answered. “I’ve brought her back to finish some work.”
Torreda jerked his head toward the sanctuary. “Well, better get along with it girl. Your master and I have a few things to discuss.”
Andrea pushed her forward slightly. “Wait for me inside”, he commanded. His eyes shot up to meet the Inquisitors. “I have some things to attend to.”
Lyla moved without hesitation. As she ran toward the entrance, she could feel the eyes of the Inquisitors men on her back. Upon reaching the sanctuary doors, she grabbed hold of the brass handles, pulled until they opened and leapt inside. There was a thud as they closed behind her. Inside was a dim corridor, lit only by a few scattered candles.
She paused to catch her breath. Lyla placed her hands on her knees, letting the jacket drop to the floor. Leaning against the wall, she slid down and sat, legs outstretched, looking up at the distant ceiling. How long she stayed there in the gloom she could not say, though when her heart stopped pounding and her breathing slowed, she turned her head, gazing down the corridor. Lyla didn’t expect any of the others to be close by. Often they went venturing throughout Vercellia, gathering strange texts and obscure writings to be brought back to the society’s hidden libraries. Master Andrea was the only one who really stayed at the sanctuary permanently, him and the servants of course.
A thought suddenly occurred to her. Yes, he must be back by now…
Hopping up from where she was seated, she turned and headed down the hallway, jumping down flights of stairs and pausing every now and then to make sure she was going the right way. Some of the passages were completely shrouded in darkness, forcing her to navigate by what felt familiar. Lyla had spent the better part of six months at the sanctuary, so she knew most of the layout from memory. That said, there were places in this building that she had never visited – and probably never would. The knowledge of that made her uneasy somehow. She didn’t like dwelling on such thoughts.
After a time she arrived at a simple oak door, a torch burning furiously to its right. This has been lit recently. She knocked on the wood impatiently and a voice soon answered: “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
Lyla smiled as the handle turned and the door swung open. “Mathias!”, she exclaimed, when she set sight on the tall, blue-haired boy. “How’ve you been?”
The boy – Mathias – rolled his eyes. “You want something, don’t you?”
“Well aren’t you a cynic”, she laughed, hands on her hips. “”Why don’t you let me in, huh?”
He sighed, turned and beckoned to her as he walked away. “Sure, come on in.”
Lyla did a mock curtsey. “Don’t mind if I do.” She hopped inside and closed the door behind her.
Mathias’s room was brightly lit, with candles on every mantelpiece and what looked like a lantern hanging from the ceiling. On top of his desk was a massive pile of books, the tower of pages so precarious that it looked like it would collapse at any moment. Mathias fell back onto his bed. Lyla sat cross-legged on the floor. “So”, he asked. “What do you want?”
“Those guys outside. The Inquisitors. What are they doing here?”
Mathias massaged his temples. “They’re not Inquisitors Lyla, they’re Arbiters. Soldiers of the Inquisition. What are they here for? Beats me. Probably for some books to burn. Maybe a couple of people while they’re at it.”
Lyla cocked her head to one side. “Do you think they will?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.” There was a pause. “Actually I wouldn’t bet on it. Word is the Grand Prince isn’t too fond of the Inquisitors, even if he does let them roam free. I think the Inquisition is smart enough to tread lightly.”
“Well there was this one guy out there who said he was an Inquisitor”, Lyla retorted. “And he had a piece of paper from the Grand Prince. It had his seal or something.”
Mathias’s eyebrows perked up. “Really now?”
“Yeah. At least that’s what I remember.”
“Well… can’t say I’m too happy about that.” He scratched his chin. “And if there’s more Inquisitors about, that’ll no doubt make your contracts even harder.”
“Contracts?” Lyla was confused. “I don’t have any contracts.”
“Not right now, but I think you’ll have one soon.” Mathias reached for his end table and picked up a small note. “This is from the Dessini family. A courier gave it to me while I was at the university this morning. I think it’s a job offer.”
Lylas eyes narrowed. “Let me see that”, she said, taking the paper from his hand. Her eyes skimmed over the contents. She could hardly believe what she was reading. Slowly, she laid the parchment on her lap. “Have you read this?”, she asked.
Mathias shook his head. “No.”
“They want me to rob some manor. To steal a golden skull.”
“Where is this place?”
“Queen Elisif Boulevard.”
Mathias’s eyes became as large as dinner plates. “No way.” He seemed to be struggling for words. “What’s the reward?”
“Two hundred Sovereigns.”
Now Mathias really did look shocked. “That kind of money could set you up for life. Easily.” He leaned forward. “So… is this a job for the Roof Runner?”
Lyla looked up from her lap. She was still for a good while. Then she smiled.
“Well, I’d better get my things.”
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Character Information
Age: 16
Height: 163 Centimetres
Birth date: Sometime in the month of Red Fall (exact day not known)
Stars and Towers 