The Dark City

6

The agent must carry out a proper surveillance.

Rule of the Watch

Journal of Carys Arrin Cyraxday 4.16.546

It was a light of some sort. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Something utterly, brilliantly white, and it flashed out from the top window of the fortress, facing east, two hours after dusk.

If I hadn’t been watching the place closely I might have missed it, though both the pack-beast and the horse skittered and stamped in fright. For a moment I was afraid they’d be heard, but I needn’t have worried; all the animals in Alberic’s pens were just as terrified; the clamor of geese and the barking of all the dogs came up clear through the drizzle.

I got to the fortress this afternoon, and camped on a rocky knoll above it. It’s sheltered here. Two great pines sprout out over the cliff; by climbing one I’m well hidden and have a good view of Alberic’s defenses. (A separate report on these will go to the Watch as soon as I find someone to take it.)

At first there were a lot of people about; as it got dark and the weather closed in, they went indoors. A fine, gray drizzle fell, but I was well sheltered. After the light flashed out, I lay along the branch and thought about it. First, it had to mean that Galen Harn was inside the fortress. Only he could have done that, or his scholar—though according to our information Raffael Morel has only been with him for four years, since Harn took him from his father’s farm.

And they must have used a relic. This was no wood and water mumbo jumbo, no sacred trees or spirit journeys. This was something brimming with power, blinding. Something of the Makers.

For a long time I waited, fidgeting with curiosity. What was going on in there? Harn and Alberic must be in some plot together, brewing something against the Watch. If only I could have gotten inside!

Ten minutes later, the light came again.

I was ready this time, and it may have been nearer the window, or simply stronger, because the ray was breathtaking—pure white, so that in one instant I saw all the roofs of the buildings below lit in a sudden stark glare; squalid walls and rain and a pig lying on its side in a sty. Then blackness.

It seemed to shock the people of the fortress just as much—they came running out of all the doors and clustered, staring up.

Nothing else, all night. I ate cold food and put the beasts in shelter, then lay on the branch and watched. Three moons shone on the thieves’ tower—even in the dappled moonlight the pale walls gleamed. Whoever the Makers were, they could build. An owl is hooting in the wood; the wet branches stir around me, dripping on this page.

Tomorrow, if nothing else happens, I’ll have to try and get inside. This might not be too difficult. My face isn’t known—after all, this is my first real mission, first time outside the Watchhouse. And according to what I’ve heard, Alberic’s tower is a nest of cutthroats, poachers, thieves, renegades. People come and go there all the time, with no real rules except Alberic’s orders. Maybe no one will notice one more vagabond.

Especially if she is a girl.

Karnosday, early

No need. They’re coming out. Two figures have just left the gate, and they look like Harn and the boy. They must be in some plot with Alberic—he’d never let them go otherwise. It’ll take me a while to get down the hill and after them. But this is luck, real luck.

Dead or alive, say the orders. And I won’t lose them now.