flailed out wildly and ripped the tongues and eyes from the Satyrs’ heads. The bony puppets tore their attackers apart, unburdened by pain or remorse or disgust at their actions.
“After witnessing the mutilation of their allies, the invading army fled the city with their bladders empty and their nightmares full. Norgari, in one sense, was saved.
“In the morning, Uldar Jerrick arrived at the doors of The Chamber to collect his pay, but the pale-faced noblemen refused. As soon as the dead had collapsed back into silent corpses, the people of Norgari had rushed to the ears of their leaders. They implored them not to pay this man whose magic was surely evil.
“More people turned out to banish Uldar than had stood up to fight the invaders. When Uldar saw this, he nodded and left Norgari without complaint. Then came the curse.
“Uldar found a way to punish the whole city with a spell that infected only a few. When the handful of chosen nobles awoke the following morning, they did not leave The Chamber. Civilians came clamoring but the curtains were closed and the doors were shut. They shouted at their leaders to be let in, but there was no response. Not until sundown.
“On that first night, the doors of The Chamber opened and the noblemen, possessed by some ungodly thirst, emerged from their outpost to prey upon the people they had been charged to protect.”
I’d heard snippets of that story before but never told in its entirety. I thought about Edmund Rye, working at a school full of little children and wondered how their parents had been able to clear this story from their minds.
“Thanks, Baxter. That helps.”
“It’s Edmund Rye, isn’t it?” I met Baxter’s amber eyes and did my best to neither confirm nor deny their suspicion. “Principal Burbage gave me some half-assed story about him taking leave and heading out of town. It seemed a strange excuse.”
“You know him well?”
“Professionally, mostly. Though I would hope that he considers me a friend. A curious mind for a creature his age. Most of us who have lived for centuries seek comfort in the old traditions. Edmund would always get excited at the thought of something new. What’s happened to him?”
I decided there was no point hiding from the old Demon. Baxter had tried to be sympathetic to my frustrations, and I’d be a dick if I didn’t return the favor.
“Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he’s not. Nobody has seen him or spoken to him in days. Unless you…?”
Baxter shook their head.
“A fortnight at least since I saw him. He brought a bunch of students to the museum. I’d say we haven’t had a proper chat in over a month. Nothing seemed strange. The usual discussions of myth and history. If I think of anything helpful, I’ll let you know.”
“And I, you. Thanks for the story, Baxter.”
“Come by the museum any time. That’s usually where I am.”
“Will do.”
I tried to get out of there before Baxter asked the other question again.
“But what about her?” Damn. I searched my pockets for a Clayfield, forgetting I was all out. “When we take down the mansion, are you going to understand?”
The answer was no, but what was the point? I’d been lucky to visit her these past few years. It had been my little sanctuary, but it wasn’t my right. As dazzling as the light inside her had been, there wasn’t a chance in hell it was ever coming back. So, what was I waiting for? The vines will crack her eventually. Or the bark will flake away. Or the old tile roof will come crumbling down and crush her into splinters on some unimportant, forgettable night when nobody even knows.
What did it matter if it was done by time or some nameless man with a steamroller? The end would be the same. The end will always be the same for all of us.
I tried to say “go ahead”, but my tongue wouldn’t let me. It took all my strength just to nod. Baxter went to say something, but just smiled.
“You’re similar,” said Baxter. “You and Edmund. Before the Coda you were both so full of beans. Perhaps you both felt you had something to prove to the world, being what you are. Heavens knows, I understand that urge myself. But now, it’s like you’ve been released. You’re handling this better than most of us, Fetch. Rye is the same. For all the damage the Coda has done, I believe it’s made you better men.”
They