John and I rarely went to Steeples any more. Before my grandfather suffered his Event, and our mother and father went to the Care, our family would regularly go and listen to Ezekiel the Sermonizer, always resplendent in his blindingly white tunic. Maybe it was simply to see the beauty of Steeples and listen to Ezekiel’s voice, which sounded like wind rushing between stands of trees, with the occasional thunder-thrust when he wanted to make a point as fiercely as a mallet introducing itself to a nail.
When we arrived outside Steeples, Thansius’s carriage was there. We hurried past it and inside. As we took our seats near the back, I looked around. The ceiling was high and laced with beams of blackened, gnarled wood. The colourful stained-glass windows were fully thirty feet tall and located on both sides of the structure. There were serene Wug figures and important events embedded in them, all looking properly pious.
There was a high altar at the front of Steeples with a carved wooden lectern in the centre of it. Behind the lectern, against the wall, was a face chiselled into the stone of the wall. This was Alvis Alcumus, who was said to have founded Wormwood. Yet if he founded the place, that meant he had come from some other place. I mentioned this once at Learning, and I thought the Preceptor was going to have me committed to the Care for spouting madness.
I could see Thansius and Morrigone seated next to the lectern. As I continued to look around, I saw Delph and Duf off to the right. And even those sentenced to Valhall were here, with their hands bound with thick leather cords and with the short-statured Nida standing next to them.
The Sermonizer stepped out from behind a screen of embroidered fabric that I had actually had a hand in making at Stacks.
Ezekiel paused to bow deeply to Thansius and then Morrigone before taking his place at the lectern. His tunic was the whitest white I had ever seen. It was like looking at a cloud.
He raised his hands to the ceiling and we all settled down. John snuggled next to me and I put my arm protectively around his shoulders.
Ezekiel cleared his throat impressively. ‘I thank all my fellow Wugmorts for coming this light,’ he began. ‘Now let us incant.’
Which of course meant let him incant while we sat silently and listened. Listening to a sermonizer who above all loves to hear himself sermonize at length is about as much fun as having your toes sheared off by an amaroc. All bowed their heads, except me. That gave someone the opportunity to get the drop on me. And Cletus Loon was sitting perilously close by and had already glanced sideways at me twice with a nasty look.
Ezekiel looked down upon us and said, ‘We gather this light for an important Council announcement.’
I craned my neck a bit and saw the other Council members resplendent in their black tunics, sitting in a row in front of the altar and facing us. Jurik Krone was prominent among them. As I looked at him, he suddenly stared back at me. I quickly glanced away.
Ezekiel continued. ‘Our fellow Wugmort Quentin Herms has gone missing.’
Thansius cleared his throat loudly enough for me to hear it in the back.
‘And now the Chief of Council, Thansius, will address you all,’ Ezekiel added hastily.
Thansius walked to the lectern while Ezekiel took his seat near Morrigone.
‘We have knowledge to convey to you this light,’ Thansius began briskly.
I wrapped my arm tighter around John’s shoulders.
‘It is now believed that Quentin Herms has been forcibly taken,’ Thansius continued.
There were instant murmurings. Herman Helvet rose and said, ‘Beggin’ your pardon, Thansius, sir, but couldn’t he-a suffered an Event?’
‘No, Mr Helvet,’ said Thansius. ‘It is well known that with an Event, there is nothing left of one.’ His gaze found me in the crowd and it seemed that Thansius was speaking directly to me. ‘There was something left of Herms.’ He held up something in his hand that I could not see clearly. But the Wugs in the front rows gasped and turned away
I rose to get a better look. It was an eyeball.
My immediate reaction was one of suspicion. Quentin had had both his eyes when I saw him running into the Quag. And I doubted very seriously that any Wug would have gone into the Quag to find these remnants. What was going on?
‘And it was not a beast either,’ added Thansius quickly. ‘He was taken by something else that lurks in the Quag.’
‘Oi! What be the somethin’ else, then?’ asked a Wug in the second row.
Thansius stared down at him with a sort of ferocious kindness. ‘I can tell you that it walks on two legs as we do.’
A gasp went up among the crowd.
‘How do we know that?’ demanded another Wug, his face was red and creased with worry. He looked like he wanted to hit someone.
‘Evidence,’ answered Thansius calmly. ‘Evidence that we have discovered during our investigation of Herms’s disappearance.’
Another Wug stood with his hat in his hands. He said, ‘Beggin’ pardon, but why offer a reward if something took him, see? We thought he’d broken laws, what we were told. See?’ He looked at other Wugs near him and they nodded back.
This, I had to admit, was getting interesting.
‘Fresh facts, that is the answer,’ he said directly to the standing Wug. The weight of Thansius’s gaze seemed heavy enough to buckle the Wug’s knees and he abruptly sat, though still looking rather pleased for having stood in the first place.
Thansius gave us all another long look as though preparing us for what he was about to say. ‘We believe there are Outliers who live in the Quag,’ said Thansius. ‘We believe that they have taken Quentin Herms.’
Outliers? Outliers? What were Outliers? I looked around and found John’s wide, scared eyes on me. He mouthed the word Outliers?
I shook my head and refocused on Thansius. Outliers? What rubbish was this?
Thansius drew a long breath and said, ‘These creatures walk on two legs and we believe that they can control the minds of Wugmorts and make them do their bidding. We believe they did so with Quentin Herms.’
Every Wug in Steeples turned and looked at his neighbour. Even I felt a chill along my spine. I suddenly realized that while it was true I had seen Quentin run into the Quag, I didn’t know what had happened to him after that.
Thansius continued. ‘We believe these Outliers are planning to invade Wormwood.’
If Thansius had intended to incite a panic, he did not fail.
Wugs jumped to their feet. Females clutched the tiniest Wugs to their breasts. Shouts and gesticulations and feet stomping sounded throughout.
Thansius’s voice boomed so loud I thought the multicoloured windows might break under the strain of holding it in. ‘Enough!’
Every Wug, even the very youngs, fell quiet.
Thansius’s gaze was deadly stern now. ‘As you know, long, long ago there took place the Battle of the Beasts here.’ We all nodded as Thansius continued. ‘Our ancestors defeated, at terrible cost, an attack from the beasts that made their home in the Quag. Ever since that time, the beasts have remained, in large measure, within the confines of the Quag.’ Thansius let this sink in for a bit. ‘It has been an uneasy balance at times, but a balance nonetheless. Now, however, I’m afraid that delicate balance has been upset by the emergence of the Outliers. We must take steps to protect ourselves from them.’
A Wug called out, ‘But from whence did they come, Thansius, these Outliers?’
Thansius said, ‘We have every reason to believe that they have been spawned by the unspeakable physical intermingling of vile beasts and other hideous creatures in the Quag, resulting in specimens of complete horror and depravity.’
If he thought that would keep us calm, Thansius had seriously underestimated our capacity for terror. Shouts boomed across steeples.
Thansius shouted, ‘Enough!’ once more and we calmed, although this time it took nearly a sliver to do so. He said, ‘We have a plan to protect ourselves. And it will involve each and every one of you.’ He pointed at us for emphasis. Then he paused again, apparently to gather his strength. ‘We are going to build a wall between the Quag and us, covering every foot of our border. This and only this will keep us safe. All workers without exception, from the Mills, the Tillers, Stacks especially –’ here he looked at me – ‘will be employed to build it. We do not know how much time we have. While the Wall is being constructed, we will take precautionary measures, which will include armed patrols.’ He paused and then delivered the next giant morta blast right into our very souls. ‘But there is every possibility that Herms is not the only Wugmort whose mind was taken over by the Outliers.’
Once more, every Wug turned and looked at each other. Their suspicious glances were clear enough.
‘How do we know they ain’t about us already, these Outliers?’ yelled one old Wug.
‘They are not,’ said Thansius firmly. ‘At least not yet.’
‘But how do we know?’ barked the Wug, holding his chest and sucking in one scared breath after another. He seemed suddenly to realize to whom he had raised his voice. He clutched his hat and wheezed, ‘Beggin’ your pardon o’course, Thansius, sir.’
However, similar shouts went up. The crowd threatened to get completely out of control. I believed we were one punch or a single accusatory word from a riot.
Thansius held up his hands. ‘Please, fellow Wugmorts. Let me explain. Please. Quiet down.’ But there was no quieting us down. Not until it happened.
‘We do know,’ said a firm voice booming above all others.
All Wugs turned their heads to her.
Morrigone was standing now, her gaze on all of us.
‘We do know,’ she said again. ‘As all of you know, I have been given a gift. This gift has allowed me to see the fate of Quentin Herms. He ventured into the Quag, and that is where the Outliers took him. They plucked out his eye and took over his mind and made him tell them certain things of Wormwood and of Wugmorts. After that I saw no more of his fate. We must protect ourselves. And we will. We must never let them take Wormwood from us. It’s all we have.’
I was holding my breath. Along with every other Wug.
We all released our collective breath at the same time and it turned into a cheer.
Morrigone raised her fist to the beautiful Steeples ceiling. ‘For Wormwood.’
‘For Wormwood,’ we all cheered back.
And despite all my misgivings, my cheers were among the loudest.