CHAPTER 1
The Reeve of Cray lived in a spherical chamber located in the heart of the Archive of Noct. It was split into two hemispheres, the upper containing electronic apparatus coagulated into lumps set here and there with screens, the lower, malodorous below the grille that was the floor, of less apparent purpose. Furniture was spartan – a desk, a chair, a black statue dedicated to the perpetually nocturnal – and the atmosphere seemed poisoned with fumes.
The Reeve, Umia, looked at home here. He was of medium height and weight, his large head topped with cropped white hair, a pair of small blue eyes over-shadowed by wild eyebrows. He wore a cloak of glittering blue salmon leather and a kirtle embroidered with crimson thread. His left lower leg and left forearm had been replaced, the leg a node-encrusted lump like a steel sea urchin, the forearm a polished orb with dangling cable. These prosthetic limbs in addition to the vexed manner made Umia seem like an afflicted old soldier oppressed by memory.
The door to the chamber opened, and he saw his First and Second Deputies, Heraber tall and saturnine like an evil siren, Ciswadra small and bent like a crone. The pair walked in.
‘Are the other two here yet?’ Umia asked Heraber.
‘They are inside the Archive and will be here in seconds, Reeve.’
‘Good. I hate wasting valuable time.’
Umia frowned and looked at the still open door, hearing the sounds of bootsteps, then seeing the other two members of Cray’s ruling Triad, Querhidwe the Lord Archivist of Selene, dressed in clothes so dusty and unwashed they might be those of a street beggar, and Rhannan – cursed Rhannan – of the Archive of Gaya. Gruffly Umia welcomed them, though his words were traditional and held no sincerity.
Since only Umia had a chair, all except he were forced to stand.
‘We are gathered here this morning,’ Umia began, ‘to discuss the threat to Cray of the invader gnostician creatures, with specific reference to the plague of glass that is spreading. I have been thinking on this topic, and I have come to the conclusion that some sort of purge would help–’
‘Purge?’ Rhannan interrupted.
‘That is what I said.’
‘Has this been discussed with Heraber and Ciswadra?’
Umia found himself irritated by her question. ‘Of what relevance is that? My methods are my own. These gnosticians I believe to be the menace that has deprived us of our security, since they populate the Earth in its entirety, and are unlike us. This is obvious. The question is, do we actively pursue them or merely banish them from the city?’
‘Talk of a purge of gnosticians is indecent,’ Rhannan said. ‘They are harmless. Any link with the glass plague would be disputed by my Archive.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Umia said, ‘but you are of Gaya. Heraber...?’
‘The glass is spreading, my Lord Archivist. I now suspect this plague to possess an exponential vector. If we take the age of Cray to be five hundred years and extrapolate from what we know, then little time remains, perhaps less than a year. The fact that until recently the plague has been eating at the foundations of Cray, rarely appearing above ground, has also confused our calculations. But there can be no doubt now that you have a serious problem.’
‘I? You mean all of us in the Archive of Noct.’
‘You are the Reeve,’ Rhannan pointed out. ‘Noct is forever in charge because the Lord Archivists of Gaya and Selene are not allowed to bring deputies to the Triad, unlike yourself.’
‘What then do you suggest?’ Umia asked with poor grace.
‘A purge is pointless,’ Rhannan replied. ‘We must first see to the appalling conditions suffered by the general populace, many of whom live in the streets. Then we must create shelters and homes away from those districts worst affected by vitrification. The people suffer grinding poverty, and this is why they care for little other than their predicament in the city. Certainly an emergency Triad consisting of the Lord Archivists of all seven Archives must be set up, and discussions begun. Will you do this, for the Crayans you rule?’
Umia sighed. ‘Heraber and Ciswadra would agree to a purge, so you are outvoted. We three will decide how it is to be managed. You two need not contribute. I will discuss the matter with my advisers.’
At this point Heraber and Ciswadra exchanged uncertain glances. Umia did not miss this. Abruptly he stood up and began declaiming, as if to conceal a mistake. ‘Why is it that only Cray seems to matter to us? Are we solipsists? No. It is because of these gnosticians and the glass plague they spread, for it is well known that foreign bodies bring diseases. Whoever heard of disease at home? I say – we here at Noct say – that humans have been ousted. Yes, ousted. We must have the courage to act against that which threatens Cray. There will be a purge, once suitable methods have been decided. Good! This meeting is now at an end.’
Silent and with grim faces, Rhannan and Querhidwe departed the chamber. For a few moments Heraber, the more decisive of Umia’s two deputies, looked at her Reeve as if with malice. Then she said, ‘What of the other Archives, my Lord Archivist?’
‘What of them?’
‘Rhannan at least will stir up trouble amongst the masses.’
Umia waved her away. ‘I will discuss the matter with my advisers.’
‘But surely we must consider Tanglanah of the Archive of Safekeeping, and Ffenquylla of the Archive of Wood?’
‘The Archive of Wood? Do you jest? It is but the home of the nostalgic and the terminally unrealistic. And likewise for the other two minor Archives.’ Umia hesitated, then said, ‘Tanglanah at least has some charisma, and if the reports are correct a certain popularity.’
‘The reports are correct,’ Ciswadra said, ‘for I collated them.’
‘Well,’ Umia frostily replied, ‘investigate her if you must, but do not let your work on the plague and the gnosticians suffer. It is paramount. I will not go down in history as the Reeve who could not recognise an enemy.’
‘Very well,’ the deputies said in unison, turning to leave.
‘Wait,’ Umia said. ‘Rhannan has angered me with her foolish criticism of the Triad’s constitution. We will deal with it in the usual way. See to it.’
At last the chamber was silent. Umia put one ear to the wall, to hear the faint booming of innumerable feet on plastic and metal, and below that, like the echo of a sonic boom, the din of the city outside.
He sat in his chair. Perhaps it was time to talk with the voices.