Page 46 of The Malevolent Eight

‘Inconspicuous?’ the rat mage suggested, explaining that his cunning camouflage spell worked by conjuring a cloud of repellent yet narcotic scents which caused those nearby to ignore us. People could still see Alice, for example, with her obvious demoniac features, lineage scars and entirely stupid bat wings, but their olfactory senses would make them turn away, confused yet eager to be somewhere else.

Look, magic is not all sparkling rainbows or whizzy lightning bolts. When a wonderist uncovers an effective spell from the bizarre physical laws of another plane of reality, they don’t look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth by wondering if maybe there’s a less smelly version. Frankly, I think a little stink is a small price to pay for not arousing an angry mob hungry to immolate you because of your poor choice in companions.

Shame sniffed, then transfigured herself into her customary guise of a somewhat frumpy middle-aged person of indeterminate gender, this time without nostrils.

Even Temper, periodically muttering, ‘Motherfucker’, was trying to keep his snout covered with his paws. I really needed to talk to Corrigan about expanding the beast’s vocabulary.

‘Who cares what we smell like?’ Corrigan asked, spreading his arms wide and inadvertently knocking over the unwary recruits walking on either side of him, adding, ‘As long as Mozen’s Reek of Wretchedness tricks people into ignoring us.’ Both fellows picked themselves up, stared briefly at us, then locked eyes with each other, each convinced the other had been the culprit. Ignoring the parade as it passed them by, they launched into each other.

‘Fists up, moron,’ Corrigan chided the one who’d allowed his opponent to punch him in the face, but the advice, no matter how good, only distracted the poor fellow, who couldn’t figure out where it had come from and as a result, got punched a second time.

Galass yanked Corrigan away to stop his running commentary on the fist-fight he’d caused.

Alice was peering down the boulevard, where two entire divisions of new human recruits to the Auroral army were marching to the newly erected citadel gleaming atop the hill a mile up the road.

I wedged myself between the two tradespersons in front of me to get a peek at the oncoming soldiers. Sure enough, at their front marched a Glorian Herald.

‘He is. . . he’s magnificent,’ Galass said quietly.

‘The term you’re looking for is “awe-inspiring”,’ I corrected.

Glorian Herald is a rank similar to Glorian Justiciar, only instead of spending years undergoing the most gruelling physical, intellectual and spiritual training imaginable to then risk life and limb investigating, pursuing and prosecuting the deadliest criminal wonderists in the entire Mortal realm, a Herald just needs to carry a twelve-foot-tall silver pole with a swathe of cloth fluttering from the top without actually falling over.

Well. . . thatandlook awe-inspiring.

I looked at Alice, who was just standing there, staring at the Glorian Herald. There was no discernible expression on her face, which is to say she was scowling as usual. Yet there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in my mind that she was feeling the same ache I always felt when seeing Glorians– Justiciars, Parevals, Ardentors or, hells, even Heralds. No matter how easily one might dismiss these shining, golden figures, they represented a mixture of kinship and righteousness that would forever be denied Alice and me– me, because of my betrayal of the order, and her, because of, well, the whole being born diabolic thing. Unfortunately, I was the only one who’d accepted that fact.

‘One day,’ she murmured.

‘Alice, it’s never—’ I cut myself off even before she shot me that glare that looked one part teenager-on-the-verge-of-tears and nine parts lunatic-on-the-edge-of-mass-murder– which was ironic because that pretty much described what I had seen in every Glorian Justiciar I’d ever encountered – especially myself.

‘Motherfucker,’ Temper muttered, gazing at me with those soft, round, gonna-drink-your-blood-one-night-when-you-least-expect-it kangaroo eyes.

I did have to admit that the kangaroo was getting remarkably good at making that word convey a whole host of different meanings.

I could feel the entire city practically swooning at the Herald’s approach. Behind him, thousands of young recruits marched awkwardly in their new Glorian armour. The thing with spiritually transforming rags into magical golden plate is that being hard as steel yet light as silk makes it really hard to march properly; you keep expecting it to be heavier than it is, so you end up bouncing like you’re drunkenly skipping down the street.

‘Okay,’ I said, leading the way to a nearby alley where we could get to work. ‘Does everybody know their part, or do I need to explain it again?’

‘I have a question,’ Corrigan began innocently.

‘Fuck you. I don’t want to hear it.’ I turned to the rest of my comrades. ‘Any other questions? Good. Now, Shame, you’re up first.’

Corrigan glowered at me. Temper tried to glower in solidarity with Corrigan, but ended up giggling to himself. Galass frowned but said nothing, Alice muttered like she always does and Shame closed her eyes, readying herself for something neither Corrigan or I were going to enjoy.

Aradeus. . . well, he, of course, was Aradeus.

‘And so commences the Great Banner Heist!’ he declared proudly, turned smartly on his heel and clapped his hands twice in anticipation. How this guy has avoided getting himself killed by every right-thinking wonderist out there really is beyond me.

‘I’vegot a question,’ Galass said, locking eyes with me so I’d know she wouldn’t brook any casual dismissal.

‘Fine,’ I conceded.

‘I was born into the Order of Sublimes and for my whole life I have studied Auroral theology under learned priors and prioresses.’

‘What’s the question?’

She pointed towards the boulevard where the Herald was marching by, golden hair fluttering in the breeze in perfect harmony with the tall banner held aloft on his twelve-foot-high silver pole. ‘What, precisely, is an Auroral Banner and why do the Lords Devilish want it so badly?’

---