The Masque of Vyle by Andy Chambers Page A

that it was already a fragile thing held together only by self-delusion and pride. The last member of the Yegara clan staggered in a circle and gibbered incoherently before making a break for the entrance to the Confluence. He careened sightlessly from scenery and audience members alike. Voices were raised in anger against him as he reeled blindly from the hall. The servants of the old Yegara clan now understood how their lives had fallen so easily under the sway of Commorragh and they hated Olthanyr for his betrayal. The last Yegara was cursed and vilified until he disappeared from sight. His despairing shrieks could be heard getting fainter until they were abruptly silenced.
    In the Amber hall the lights slowly brightened until the audience could see enough to look at one another in some bemusement. Kassais turned to Vyle and found himself unaccountably relieved to find that the Shrike Lord was still present. All trace of the Harlequins, the chorus, the dancers and their stage sets had completely vanished. Seemingly, for the first act at least, the performance was over and in a dream-like manner it now seemed questionable whether it had happened at all.
    ‘Was it a fair portrayal of events?’ Kassais asked. Vyle arched his brows in response and picked at some food before deigning to respond.
    ‘Of the toad’s coming to Commorragh? I suppose after a fashion,’ the Shrike Lord admitted. ‘Although we didn’t literally pull him around like that. Vect had the final say over who would benefit from the new realm on offer, I merely had to prove myself to be the most loyal and able of the archons suitable to be granted control.’
    ‘Yes, I would love to know how you did that,’ Kassais purred. ‘Our beloved Supreme Overlord is so notoriously hard to please.’
    ‘You may live several lifetimes and never become privy to that information,’ Vyle retorted.
    ‘I wonder if Yegara really has gone mad,’ Kassais mused, ‘or was that just part of the act?’

Chapter Seven
    The Second Banquet
    +A failure then.+
    +A success, now we know that Olthanyr Yegara is not the one we seek.+
    +Must we blindly continue until we stumble across the answer?+
    +Rejoice! The pure pursuit of our art will, of itself, bring the wrongdoer to justice.+
    +Regardless of collateral damage done?+
    +Accidental judgment may also fall upon other guilty parties along the way, ’tis true.+
    +We should shed no tears over that, I believe we serve a higher force in this regard.+
    +So po-faced! Can’t you see the humour in the situation?+
    Kassais found Vyle on the battlements the next morning. The old stone walkway was windswept and rain-soaked in the aftermath of the previous night’s storm, but Kassais found something agreeably fresh about it after being cooped up in the musty keep with its monochromatic halls. The prospect of spending an entire week in the place was already beginning to feel like an unnecessarily oblique form of torture.
    Vyle was poised with a long-barrelled splinter rifle in his hands, aiming at something down in the forest. As Kassais approached he heard the high-pitched crack of the rifle’s shot and then Vyle curse like a spitting gyrinx. Evidently a miss.
    ‘Bad luck,’ Kassais called amiably. ‘Want me to take a try?’
    Vyle turned and gave him a dark look, but then relented and thrust the splinter rifle towards him with evident disgust. ‘Go ahead,’ the Shrike Lord said. ‘It’ll give me a chance to see whether the rifle is at fault or me.’
    Kassais shrugged and took the rifle in his hands. It was a beautiful piece, evidently of Commorrite manufacture. The delicate fluting on the barrel and microscopic filigree-work on the grips reminded Kassais of work from the Street of Knives. In truth it might have come from any one of a few thousand armourers in Commorragh that served the higher echelons of the city. It was a hunting rifle with an extended barrel, cushioned stock and a multi-spectral viewing scope. Kassais