“They’re raving lunatics from what I heard,” Councillor Henkel said. Captain Denehof simply coughed.
“Indeed...” Kreigel tapped his quill distractedly on the paper he had been making notes on. “What about this third guard? Is he still lucid? What did he see?”
Denehof reiterated that the man was crippled with survivors’ guilt. “He’s blaming himself for the whole thing, and is a total emotional wreck my lord, although still of sound mind. However,” the captain added, “he actually saw nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing whatsoever my lord, nor heard anything either. His circuit of the property took him approximately four minutes and from what I can piece together, the assassin was in and out before a second round was completed. It was only when the two guards on the door began to come round from their incapacitation and started to scream uncontrollably that the third man knew anything was amiss.”
Kreigel put his head in his hands, unable to believe what was happening to his Stad. His family had been in this area since long before the birth of the Empire and he could not recall hearing of anything like this. Of course Werpenstad had grown over the years - rising sixteen thousand burghers according to the last census - and more people meant more trouble, inevitably, but to slaughter an entire household, of men, women and children... He frowned, deeply concerned.
“All right, look, why doesn’t everybody take a break until after lunch? We’re all tired and more than a little disturbed by this, and you have all been up presumably for hours, as have I. Go home. Go home to your families and pray for Marlene and Rens; and for the Duponts.”
“What about the Hoskam children, my lord?” Secretary van Buren asked. “And the Burghermeister - they will all have to be informed.”
“The Burghermeister doesn’t know yet?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Councillor Weisselsbloed shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Ok. I will draw up a letter to be sent to each of the Hoskam children, but first I’ll go and tell Heinrich myself. Is he still locked in his chambers?”
“He is my lord.”
“Then I shall see him there,” Kreigel got to his feet. “Until after luncheon then.”
As everybody began to file out Captain Denehof coughed delicately in Kreigel’s ear. “If I might have a word my lord,” he murmured.
“Yes, ok. Just wait a minute,” he answered as he caught the sleeve of Councillor Weisselsbloed as he walked past. “A moment if you will Maxwell, and you too Major,” he called out to Prince. After a few short minutes the others had all gone, leaving just the four of them in the Council Chamber. Kreigel spoke first to Weisselsbloed. “Maxwell, do you think you could see those two guards at St. Barneva’s, and the other one...” he looked questioningly at Major Prince.
“We have him in a secure room in the Prefecture on Langlaan North, my lord.” Kreigel nodded, then raised an eyebrow at the old councillor. “Max?”
“You don’t hope to get anything out of them do you?” the old man stroked his beard.
“Not really,” he admitted, “but we can’t afford to let the chance slip by, just in case. I’d do it myself only... well, I dare say I would not be a welcome visitor at the good Sisters’ right now, but they wouldn’t refuse someone a little more... diplomatic.”
“Oh dear,” Weisselsbloed grimaced. “Have you been making a nuisance of yourself?”
“And then some - really. But also, it’s high time I went and saw the Burghermeister and dragged his sorry hide out of that blasted room, verdomme! As Bernard has inferred, this is looking distinctly personal against Dupont - it may be that he already knows the attacker, in which case we’ve all been following a merry dance for nothing!”
“You will go easy on him though won’t you?” Weisselsbloed counselled as he reached the door just before he left. “Remember, he has just lost his family.”
“I’ll wring his bloody neck for him if he’s been holding out on us,” Kreigel answered darkly. He turned to Leopold Prince of the militia. “Major, has there been any word from the missing squad yet? Did they come in overnight?”
“Unfortunately not my lord, no; Sergeant Spöllner’s unit is still missing. I’m pulling in men off the walls this morning to go look for them.”
“Do that. How long are they overdue now?”
“More than ten hours my lord, and I have to confess I fear the worst. I don’t know how, by Puurs, but I feel something terrible has happened to them.”
“Indeed. Let’s find them first before we start mourning their loss though. No less than five men to a squad for the search, and give them crossbows. Let’s take no chances Leo.” Major Prince saluted and left, closing the ornate doors behind him. “Now Bernard - excellent work might I just say, very thorough - so what else was it you wanted to see me about?”
“There was something else at the scene my lord,” he kept his voice low despite them being alone in the room, “only I thought it best to tell you first before the rest of the Council is informed - should you deem that to be absolutely necessary.” At Kreigel’s quizzical look he continued. “Our assassin left us a calling card, a sign carved into the front door. It’s a curious symbol, looks like a crudely-shaped animal’s head scratched into the wood by - well, possibly a claw, or a sharpened stone would be my next guess.
“It is around four inches round, with triangular snout and ears. It smacks of a cult symbol my lord, or a logo from a secret society or something. I took the liberty of having the door removed while it was still dark and taken back to your armouries before anyone should see it. You know how rumours are in the Stad my lord, and how they can lead to all sorts of... unfortunate events.”
“Yes indeed,” Kreigel looked deeply thoughtful, dredging his mind to see if he had any memory of such a symbol from his days in Spastad, Aub or Gansen. “Thank you Bernard, you were entirely right to keep this between us, for now at least. Go and get some rest and not a word to anybody.” A look of grim determination set upon his face. “I think it’s high time I went to see our Burghermeister.”
*
The guards on the door to the chambers which Dupont had barricaded himself were just going off duty when Kreigel met them on the stairs. He asked for their assistance before they left, tossing them each a couple of coins from his purse. When they reached the door Kreigel banged hard upon it.
“Dupont! Dupont, open up verdomme!” he shouted unceremoniously.
The two soldiers smirked at one another - this was the Burghermeister their commander was talking to. Lord Kreigel already had something of a reputation amongst his men and this would only add to it when they told the lads back at barracks. Nice to hear someone shouting down one of the bureaucrats. He was one of them, Lord Kreigel, a military man, and it was widely thought that he should be running the Stad, instead of that pompous idiot the Council had finally elected.
What had that fat-head Dupont ever done before getting voted in? He’d been a merchant, owned a couple of prospecting companies and had struck it lucky up in the mountains to the West. He’d been given Roads and Highways, when he first got a seat on the Council, and he had been no bloody good at that! People went missing all the time back then - how he made it to Burghermeister, Puurs only knew. A silver tongue and plenty of greased palms is what everybody said. Certainly not because he was any good at anything!
Kreigel continued to hammer on the door, yelling.
“Burghermeister! Dupont! Open this door, verdomme, or I’ll break it down!” He could hear movement from within the set of rooms, but still no response. That was it; he’d had enough. “Ok boys,” he said to the guards, “kick it in.”
They were both taken aback, hardly able to contain their grins. “My lord?” one of them said.
“You heard me, come on! I want that door open - now. Rip it off its hinges if you have to!” The men hurried to prop their ceremonial spears and shields up against the wall and then set to, kicking and crashing against the door until it finally gave in.
r />
“Right, thank you men, that’ll do,” Kreigel dismissed them as the frame splintered and the door collapsed into the suite of rooms. “Report back to the Colour Sergeant and then go and get some rest.” The soldiers saluted him and picked up their gear, heading back to barracks. They made it as far as the staircase before they started laughing. Wait till the others heard about this!
Striding into the private chambers, Kreigel was disgusted with what he saw. The place was a total mess, trays of half-eaten food lying about, with clothes and bed linen scattered all over the room; drawers had been pulled out of the dressers, spilling their contents across the floor. One of the thick, velvet curtains had been ripped from its railings and at least half a dozen goblets of wine had been hurled against the wall.
The Burghermeister was a dishevelled wreck, unshaven, unwashed and wearing the same clothes from when the attempt had been made on his life; they were dirty and stained, even ripped in places. He was cowering behind an upturned divan, shivering and shaking uncontrollably.
“Pathetic!” Kreigel spat, booting a dinner tray hard across the room, scattering fruit, chunks of stale bread and the remains of a duck’s carcass everywhere. “You’re a disgrace Dupont! What the hell’s happened to you man? Show some bloody backbone, verdomme!” The Burghermeister flinched as the platter went spinning through the air, but otherwise did not move in the face of Kreigel’s tirade.
“I should have done this two days ago!” the Vice-mayor fumed as the tray clattered noisily in the far corner. “I should never have let you be mollycoddled like this!” Striding over to him, he glared with undisguised hostility down at Dupont. “There are things I want to know from you Dupont and I will have my answers - today!
“Unfortunately I owe it to you as a man - if there’s any man left in you, which I very much doubt - to give you some news first, and it’s not good. I’m afraid I have to tell you that your family’s dead.”
The Burghermeister, already a broken man, slumped further down at this; only his feeble grip on the edge of the divan kept him from falling. “No... Oh please no!”
“All of them,” Kreigel continued without even the slightest trace of sympathy. The time for compassion is over, he thought, or else yet to come. What he needed right now was answers, and action. “Sylvia, your daughter and boy, and the Hoskams as well, murdered in the night. Rens, Marlene and their entire staff.”
“Nooooo!” Dupont wailed, “No, no, no!” He collapsed in a heap and began writhing on the floor, tearing at his hair, his clothes, the carpet, even at his own flesh.
Kreigel had already noticed the slashes on both wrists where the Burghermeister had been self-abusing, but despite the tragedies of last night he could feel nothing but contempt at the sight of such weakness. To Kreigel it was loathsome. He heard then that between sobs the Burghermeister was saying something, but it was such a garbled blubber he couldn’t make out a word.
“What? Speak clearly man! What did you just say?”
“I said it’s all my fault!”
“Why?” Karl snapped, and when he got no response he leant down and hauled Dupont to his feet by his shirt collar. “How is this your fault, you cretinous little man?” he snarled. “What have you done to my Stad?”
In response the Burghermeister just howled even more, wailing repeatedly that he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it.
“There was a sign carved into the door of the Hoskam’s house,” Kreigel pressed on, “a stylised animal head scraped into the wood.”
Alarm shot through Dupont’s tear stained face and his body froze in terror. One of his arms shot across to his shoulder in an unconscious movement which Karl seized upon in an instant. Reaching down roughly, he tore open Dupont’s ragged shirt to reveal the very same mark branded into his skin.
“What is this?” he roared, shaking the Burghermeister furiously. “What does it mean you odious little maggot? What have you done to my Stad? Who have you got yourself involved with you brainless fool - a Cartel? You bloody idiot, if you’re involved with Verdun... Or is it a cult? Tell me it’s not that, verdomme, or by all the Gods I’ll hand you over to the Jaegers myself!”
“It’s over! It’s all over!” the Burghermeister cried out suddenly. “Don’t you see? I’m a dead man! We’re all dead men! It’s over for us all! They’re coming! They’ll come for all of us, like shadows in the night! We won’t even see them coming - we don’t stand a chance! They’ve killed my family!” he sobbed. “They’ll kill anybody who tries to stop them - kill everyone in the end! Dead! All dead! I thought I could... I thought... Oh Sweet Sulaika save me!” Dupont began to scream incoherently, and to Kreigel the noise was sickening.
He threw him to the ground in disgust. “Langlaan North would be too good for you. I’m sending for the Jaegers; they’ll loosen your tongue! And if you’ve done anything to this Stad...” he left the threat hanging in the air, but realised Dupont probably never even heard it, lying as he was in a heap on the floor, scratching agonisingly at the symbol burned into his flesh. He was unaware of everything around him, it seemed to Kreigel, locked inside his own world of terror.
Karl Kreigel stomped out of the rooms and down the stairs, his face like thunder. Yelling for an aide, he barked instructions at the timid clerk who appeared finally, taken aback by the Vice -mayor’s ferocity.
“I want a pigeon sent to Spastad immediately requesting that a Jaeger from the Holy Order come at the earliest possible convenience! I will have a letter ready with my personal seal in five minutes.
“Also, send word to Major Prince at Langlaan North - I want all patrols doubled and a man on every culvert, every well and any other opening into the sewers throughout the Stad! He can conscript more men if he has to. And tell him to close the gates again - the whole Stad is to be put on high alert!” His voice then quietened, but seemed even more menacing to the clerk. “And I do not want that man,” he pointed upstairs, “the former Burghermeister, to leave this building! Send a runner to Denehof and get two more men sent over here to watch him through the day. He is not to leave his rooms and is to be afforded no more rights or privileges - as of this moment he is to be considered an enemy of the Stad.”
Calling up one of the guards stationed at the front entrance to watch Dupont until his own men arrived, Kreigel then stomped back to his office down the hall from the Council Chamber, slamming the door behind him in anger. He quickly wrote a letter on the small scrips used for the pigeons, adding his miniaturised seal for authentication. Having sent this off with another aide down to the dovecote, he then began to pace back and forward, thinking, wondering, fuming - and cursing himself for not having seen this sooner. What danger was his beloved Stad in?
“Verdomme!” he swore as he paced. “Verdomme, verdomme, verdomme!”
*
Seequar watched the activity with amusement, peeping out of the window as a score of watchmen scurried down the length of the avenue outside like a heathland’s animals running from a fire. The town was in chaos, and the thought of that pleased the Brood Brother immensely.
It had actually worked better this way, he mused, rubbing his hands against his long nose and then pulling them through his whiskers. He would have to bring it up for debate with the Tzeen-tek Lore Lords when he got back, that perhaps it should be explored as a deliberate tactic, to first give a scare and then perform the killing once the panic had already set in...
He watched as the uniformed humans stared nervously down through the metal grills set here and there between the broad paving stones of the avenue, drain holes which dropped down into the sewers. Reading the fear in their movements, he smiled at the futility of their actions as they hammered away, spiking the drain covers closed before moving on - it was all far too little, and far too late.
After having cut down the patrol that had stumbled into him in the sewers, and then the slaughter of the Burghermeister’s family and the rest of that household, Seequar knew the town would be on full alert and had thought it
prudent to take refuge elsewhere. Again, he grinned at his own audacity as well as the humans’ simple-mindedness - he had suspected they would never think to look for him inside the Burghermeister’s own house, and he was right.
The guards who had been ringed around it had been taken away that morning, either to bolster the town’s panicky militia or else just because they no longer considered it necessary to watch the place. Just one hour ago he had listened as a smaller force returned and set up watch again - just two men outside the front door; but by then of course, he was already in, and had brought his guest with him.
Seequar turned away from the window, letting the tiny corner of drape fall back into place, and walked over to where he had the human securely bound to a chair, gagged tightly. Curling up a contemptuous lip at how easily the humans in the wagon train had been dispatched, he cast an eye over the expert knots that bit into this one’s flesh. He had been the ninth member of that party and Seequar had carried the human - drugged unconscious - all the way back to the Stad. To begin with, he had secured him in a hidden corner down in the labyrinthine sewers, but he had brought him here when it became apparent that they were being searched. It was unlikely he would be found, but it wouldn’t do to have another setback, especially one which could so easily be avoided.
The man came round from his sedation sporadically, but Seequar did not mind that too much. It was an enjoyable distraction while he waited, to see the pain and the panic in his eyes, the fear and despair wracking through the pathetic creature as he struggled to free himself. Seequar was quite happy to let him suffer consciousness for a few minutes each time, before pricking him again with the drug-soaked bradawl and sending him under for another few hours.
“Worry not no,” he hissed cruelly at him, his mouth struggling around the syllables of the human tongue. “All will be yes over by sun-up.”
The man gave off a muffled scream behind his gag and tried to thrash himself free, although he knew by then that it was useless. He only succeeded in upsetting his chair which Seequar caught and lowered the rest of the way to the floor.