A history of whispers

The citadel hadn't always been discussed in hushed reverent tones. A history of whispers had taken over its function more than 15 years ago after the assassination of Commissioner Thora. She had been a true believer. The streets safe, the air pure. Or rather, more pure and "safer", thought Finnegan.

The Runner's runner's pace was quick but not too fast for him to keep up with. Over his right shoulder looming over the bay was the trident. Its top just out of sight in the low storm clouds. Windows from two of the spires gleamed with light.

The citadel sat on top a hill that also overlooked the bay, one of five such hills around the city. The wide thoroughfares zig zagged their ways up the inclines to the gates.

Everyone knew the true power of the city ran out the dark spaces in the Citidel even though most public power was located in the Trident. The creation of the runner's runner, a fleet of peace keeping automatons had consolidated that fact and as such for the past 15 years there seemed to be an uneasy truce between those working in the Citadel and those in the Trident.

There were now Runner's runners working the large pointed topped gates where the streets met. A wall had been erected around the citadel since last he'd been there. It seemed to be made of a single piece of basalt twenty feet tall by ten thick and ran in a smooth circle around the hill top, bending out of sight.

Here, finally, he saw human runners as well in their smart polished button uniforms. The runners had started as simple messengers between the citadel and the Trident, then they had become empowered as go betweens able to broker deals. Then they were able to enforce the agreement brokered until finally they served as the main police force ensuring the peace throughout the city. The Runner's runners had been developed as a way for them to remain impartial and unable to be bribed or influenced. It was only now, years later, that people were realizing how much faith they had invested over time to those impartial servants.


Finnegan was escorted by his runner's runner keeping careful eye on the single red gem affixed to the top of its hat-plate as this differentiated it from the myriad other runner's runners scurrying throughout the Citadel.

He was somewhat taken aback that here at the Citadel at least, Runner's runners had grown past their mostly human form and now were working in forms that mirrored specialized functions. Two near the gate he had just walked through had four stout legs, a torso that looked to be more like a bathtub studded with long cables and ominous tubes of various diameter.

They walked across a courtyard that took five minutes to cross. The runner's runner stayed true to a straight path. Inside the courtyard regiments of runners and runner's runners performed drills even at this late time of day.

Finnegan noted that One of the moons had risen but the other two weren't high enough above the Citadel wall to be seen yet.

The wind was gusty and the rain had begun to fall in big fat drops that made Finnegan happy to finally reach the destination. The five story structure sat perched on top of its own hill with easy lines of sight to the bay and behind it to the farming valleys.

He was escorted to just within the front door and told to sit on a long dark wooden bench that ran almost the length of the hallway some seventy feet away. He was the only one sitting on the bench.

Finnegan had just removed his pocket watch to make sure it was wound for the fourth time when a loud voice echoed down the hallway: "Rumor Finnegan, rogue, scoundrel and threat to the empire if there ever was one."

Finnegan looked up to see a large man silhouetted at the end of the hallway making his way towards the main doors. He strained to see through the dim hallway any identifying detail to determine the man's identity. Once the stranger was only thirty feet away A smile spread slowly across his face.

"Cousin Bertram? You work in the Citadel now?"

Bertram let out a laugh that echoed and was entirely too loud for the location.

"Rumor, how long has it been? Six? Seven years?"

"It was at the last Festival of Crumple! You were drunk, had just met some conniving trollop fortune teller who had said something about marrying into riches and both of you were carrying on about eloping to Sarc."

Bertram looked suddenly serious then broke into a grin, "That's no trollop, that's my wife!" and gave Finnegan a hug that squeezed the breath from his lungs.

"You two married? I don't know whether to offer my congratulations or my condolences then cousin."


"Ah you never changed Rumor. Come walk with me."

They walked down several large hallways filled with dark, fading oil painted murals. Sometimes of Citadel dignitaries, sometimes of locations under control of the city. Finnegan was momentarily captivated by two. The first was of the Southern Isles, a plantation growing Fleck's root with Lemur-men workers happily helping the plantation owners.

The other mural made Finnegan shudder. It was a picture of the refinery its single enormous rocky peak rising up out of the ocean, a single point of land this side of the world falls, and area were the ocean simply spilled over into nothing and supposedly fell forever. The refinery and its leviathan turbines stretched into the water on either side of the rocky island harnessing that great power. The buildings on that outcrop smouldered in the picture. Finnegan wasn't' sure if their orangy reddish hue was due to the sun's setting in that painting or the massive energies being dredged and harvested.

After twenty minutes of walking up and down flights of stairs and catching up on old times, Finnegan finally arrived at Bertram's office. There in the middle of Bertram's desk were all of Finnegan's inquiries into the disappearance of the Cuttle grubs. Next to them a stack ten times as high of their paperwork. Bertram followed Finnegan's gaze and said:

"You have been contacted by 8 cuttle families regarding their children's disappearance. I can assure you that while the cuttle have experienced the largest percentages of losses especially recently, all clans across the city and in some other cities we are in contact with are experiencing losses. You know of 8 cuttle losses, our records show it closer to 52 cuttle grubs. 17 lemur children, 9 human, 14 Chiropts and..." he furnished one large file in a different colored envelope to put on top of the stack. "One golem."

Finnegan let out a surprised whistle. There had been rumors of disappearances but this was an epidemic. Bertram signaled that Finnegan should take a seat. In the stack Finnegan could see his own handwritten requests for help.

"What leads do you have?"

"None at the moment. Or rather none I can discuss with you. There seem to be many groups in play here and the citadel is determined to figure out who's on our side and who needs to be eradicated. This many disappearances can rock the faith of a population so its in everyone's best interests to maintain the status quo. Needless to say you will not discuss what you see here with anyone outside this office."

Finnegan felt a brief buzzing in his head just behind his right ear. He knew he'd just been censured.

"Why tell me this then, cousin?"

"We need your help. Your status and placement makes you privy to locales, information and people without alerting various parties that we may be listening. We need you to make some discrete inquires, nothing more, to help us solve this and move on."

"I'm happy to help as any good citizen would be. Why bring me here? Why the pomp?"

"Various parties here were not as convinced as I was that you would need no coercion. You can't know what sort of battle I had to engage in to make sure it was only me you met with. I can't tell you how happy I am that no coercion was needed."

Finnegan shuddered involuntarily.

Bertram rose. "I will be your point of contact here so know that you have a sympathetic ear, here within the citadel. I will provide information when I can. In the mean time, keep your ears and eyes open and we'll be in touch."

"Very well. Its been good catching up with you cousin. Be sure to tell Aunt Fabrice a good hello for me." Bertram paused then regained his composure.

"I'm sorry to say Rumor that my mother passed away quite unexpectedly a few years ago."

"Oh, I didn't know! Nothing was said! I'm sorry for your loss Bertram."

"A slants all to brindle, its all in the past now, and you didn't know."

"Well again, my condolences. And we should endeavor to meet more often than every seven years."

Bertram looked wistfully distant "True cousin true."

A Runner's runner with a red gem, two blue and a purple gem on its hatplate was waiting for Finnegan just outside the office door.

Bertram said: "This fine unit will escort you back home. You'll keep my cousin dry in the rain I trust?" Bertram added to the Runner.

"If it is required then it will be done." was what was answered.

Finnegan's mind swam all the way back to his apartment. He got in and was able to close the study windows just as the nightly deluge began.