Quicksilver Zenith

At length, Bastorran said, ‘Welcome.’

The woman barely acknowledged his greeting.

‘This is my aide,’ he continued, ‘Lahon Meakin. Meakin, say hello to Aphri Kordenza.’

Nods were exchanged. Hers was slight, disinterested.

‘In the event that I’m not able to deal with you myself, Kordenza, you’re to liaise with Meakin here. Meakin and no other. I trust that’s clear.’

‘Yes.’ Something about the timbre of her voice set the small hairs on Meakin’s neck tingling.

‘There’s no point in you lingering here, Meakin,’ Bastorran decided. ‘You may go.’

He didn’t seem to hear. He was staring at her.

‘Meakin.’

‘Sir!’

‘Get out. And make sure we’re not disturbed.’

The aide gathered his papers, then quietly left.

The bed-ridden paladin and the glamour symbiote studied each other.

‘Mind if I demerge?’ Kordenza asked.

‘Mind if you do what?’

‘Sharing with a glamour pair gets uncomfortable when we’re both in at the same time. Makes me feel like I’ve eaten too much. I’m hoping to make our cohabitation less unpleasant in future. Until then …’ she thumped her flat chest with a black-gloved fist, ‘… better out than in, know what I mean?’ She smiled, though her face wasn’t made for it.

‘Just remember I have men outside that door. If you even think of –’

‘Calm yourself, General. We should trust each other; we’re in a business relationship. Besides, if we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.’

He felt a little confused by her use of ‘we’. ‘So go ahead.’

What took place next was no less startling for happening fast. Aphri Kordenza simply stepped to one side. But an outline of herself remained in the space she vacated. It hung in the air like a slender rope, mimicking her shape. Within its contours a kaleidoscope of particles churned and vibrated. They coagulated and clarified, and within seconds came together to form something that looked human. The emerging figure appeared to be Kordenza’s twin.

Bastorran saw that an almost invisible membrane, a viscous, cobwebby lattice, attached Kordenza to the conjured glamour. The filmy web grew taut, snapped and was immediately reabsorbed by the twin.

On closer inspection, Kordenza’s double proved not entirely identical, though its clothes were.

It, too, was androgynous, but with definite masculine features. Nor did it look completely human.

Kordenza was stretching, elbows back, head rolling. Unwinding after a weight had been removed. Next to her, the glamour twin did the same. They unconsciously mirrored each other, like a well worked-out piece of choreography.

Straightening, expelling a breath, Kordenza declared, ‘Anything you have to say can be said to both of us.’

‘We work together,’ the glamour added. Its voice was a giveaway, if one were needed. It had the timbre of sorcery; a little hollow, a touch lifeless, a hair away from humanity.

Bastorran regarded the pair silently, as though he were weighing whether to deal. At last he said, ‘What do I call you?’

‘Aphrim,’ the glamour replied.

Aphri leaned against a dresser, arms crossed. The glamour, which Bastorran was forcing himself to think of as ‘he’, adopted a similar pose by the hearth.

‘Let’s get on with it,’ Bastorran prompted. ‘You’re aware of the nature of the commission.’

‘We only accept one kind,’ Aphri said.

‘All we need to know is the target,’ her twin finished.

‘When you do, you might think twice about taking the job.’ The pun had been unintentional, but neither of his guests seemed aware of it.

‘We always appreciate a challenge,’ Aphrim told him.

‘It keeps us on our toes,’ Aphri explained.

‘Your problem,’ the glamour ventured, ‘is connected with your present state of health, yes?’

‘You want vengeance,’ Aphri reckoned.

‘Not just for your injuries …’

‘… but for the terrible public humiliation you suffered.’

Bastorran found the way they shared speech as provoking as what they said.

‘A stain not only on your reputation …’

‘… but on the clans as a whole, and –’

‘All right! I’m close to having you flogged for impertinence.’

‘You might find that a little hard in my case,’ the glamour commented.

‘Looks like we were right in our assumption, Aphrim,’ Kordenza said.

‘Yes,’ Bastorran confirmed, ‘it’s Caldason. I want him … destroyed.’

‘Hmm. He’s a notorious bandit.’

‘A hard man to kill.’

‘Some say he can’t be killed.’

‘That’s superstitious nonsense,’ Bastorran snapped.