‘Well done.’ The sorcerer made a swift, complex hand gesture.

A citizen’s transport wagon drew level with them. Four horses pulled it, and it was full of passengers. The wagon, drays and passengers, the driver and his mate, all turned transparent for an instant. There was a glimpse of the skeletal structure of the horses and the people, attesting to the thorough job Phoenix had done on the casting. Then everything turned into smouldering motes and drifted away. A small inrush of air could be felt, as was common when large glamours expired. It caused some small inconvenience to the other road users, but nothing they weren’t used to.

‘You saw, didn’t you?’ Phoenix said. ‘Not only that the wagon was a glamour but also the signature I’d woven into the spell.’

‘Yes, Master. It was a bit like… I don’t know… a watermark on a piece of parchment.’

Phoenix nodded and allowed himself a small smile, crinkling his freckles. ‘You’re making a little progress, my boy.’ Then sharper: ‘Come on, come on! I’ve conjured plenty more.’

‘We’re supposed to be at the meeting.’

‘We’ll be there in time if you don’t dawdle. I’ve planted more likenesses along the route, so look about you, lad, and doubt. Look and Doubt.’

Carrying on at a faster pace, Kutch pointed things out and Phoenix either nodded or berated. To onlookers they were merely a brother and sister, bickering on their way home. With an unusually large number of glamours expiring in their wake.

They approached Karr’s hideout more soberly. Slipping in one at a time, they ran the gamut of precautions that established they were who they appeared to be.

In a corridor somewhere between the front door and the cellar, they paused so Phoenix could resume his normal form.

When they got to the subterranean conference room they found Caldason, Serrah, Karr and Quinn Disgleirio waiting for them.

‘Good, now we can start,’ Karr said. ‘Please.’ He invited them to sit with a sweep of his arm, and everyone gathered at the largest table. ‘I take it we’re cloaked against eavesdropping?’

‘I did it myself,’ Phoenix assured him.

‘Reeth’s band did well yesterday,’ Karr began, ‘and made a valuable contribution to our coffers. It’s to be regretted that this was achieved with the loss of three band-members, and the wounding of five others.’

‘I take full responsibility for that,’ Caldason volunteered.

‘I’m not criticising you, Reeth,’ the patrician replied evenly. ‘I’m merely reporting, and commemorating the fallen by mentioning them here. The losses are unhappy, but we judge the mission a success.’

Caldason seemed to accept that. Serrah shot him a sideways glance. As usual, his expression was unfathomable.

‘The coin you liberated yesterday,’ Karr went on, ‘after we return some to the people, won’t all go into Resistance war chests. In fact, most of it won’t. You’re here today to be told what the money bought. But first…’ He gestured towards the open door.

Several helpers brought in trays of drinks and sweetmeats. Setting them down on side tables, they hurried out. The door was secured.

Karr raised a cup and eyed the company. ‘Your good health.’

‘And confusion to our enemies,’ Phoenix added.

Caldason took a desultory sip of his drink. Serrah faked conviviality. Kutch wished he had less water in his wine.

Putting down his cup, Karr continued, ‘You know, it’s funny, but one of the most important things about the empires is an aspect we tend not to notice.’ He had their attention. ‘What we forget about Gath Tampoor, about both empires, is that for all their military might and economic muscle, at base they’re bureaucracies. They have to be, there’s so much to administer.’

‘I can confirm that from my encounters with the clerks in Merakasa,’ Serrah offered.

‘All existing states are built on mountains of paper,’ Karr stated.

‘What’s this got to do with us?’ Caldason asked.

‘Plenty. It provides a weak link in their chain of occupation, and in striking at it we can do ourselves some good.’

‘How does targeting paper-shufflers help us?’

‘It depends on what they’re shuffling,’ Disgleirio told him.

‘That’s exactly the point,’ Karr agreed. ‘Gath Tampoor’s Bhealfan minions generate vast amounts of information daily. Most of it’s administrative stuff of little interest to us. But some of it’s vitally important to them and us. I’m talking about the records they hold on individuals and groups they regard as enemies of the state. I think you can verify that too, Serrah.’

‘Yes. The CIS holds many files on criminals and political activists. My unit relied on them when we were planning operations.’

‘It’s the same here in Bhealfa. There are whole armies of information gatherers compiling files on dissidents. Almost certainly they have files for everybody in this room. With the possible exception of young Kutch here. Sorry to disappoint you, lad.’ There was a little laughter at that, mostly from Disgleirio. ‘But if we could get to those records -’

‘You’re obviously saying you’ve found a way,’ Caldason reckoned.

‘I think we have. The bulk of the money you and your band seized yesterday was used as a bribe. I’m about to show you what for.’ He nodded to Phoenix.

The sorcerer produced a small cube and rapped it against the table. A glamour materialised, covering almost the entire table top. It was a meticulously detailed scale model of a section of a city. Even the houses in a dilapidated state were portrayed as such. There were minute cracks in the paving stones and the towers had flags.

‘You might recognise this as part of central Valdarr,’ Karr explained. ‘It contains a perfect example of how the orderly minds of our rulers work in our favour. They have all the records that interest us in one location. Here.’ He pointed at a building.

It was an ornate structure, boasting several spires.

Kutch said, ‘That’s a temple, isn’t it?’

‘Apparently. Actually, it’s heavily glamoured to look that way. Its real appearance is somewhat different. If you’d be so kind, Phoenix.’

The sorcerer lightly smacked the cube. What had been a temple melted into a much plainer, more functional looking building. Even on this scale it was possible to see that its doors were hearty and its windows barred.

‘What about worshippers?’ Kutch asked. ‘Don’t they get suspicious?’

‘It poses as a private place of worship, only for the influential. Ordinary people aren’t encouraged to go there.’

‘How are

we

supposed to get in?’ Serrah wanted to know.

‘This way.’ He signalled Phoenix again, who manipulated the cube once more.

The building expanded to the size of a rich child’s doll’s house, filling the table. All the other buildings and streets were pushed away, and vanished.

Then the building disappeared too, leaving a three-dimensional representation of its foundations. It was riddled with tunnels.

‘What you’re seeing is the sewage system, and the channels that bring in fresh water from artesian wells, here and here. All the modern conveniences.’

‘It’s a maze down there,’ Serrah said. There was a hint of disquiet in her voice.

‘Yes, but we’ve plotted a course through. That was Quinn’s responsibility, so I’ll let him explain.’

Disgleirio took over, using a dagger to point things out. ‘This large channel here is the key. As you can see, a lot of lesser conduits branch out from it. The trick is to find the one that feeds directly into the building. That’s here.’ He jabbed the blade at an underground junction.

‘How big are these tunnels?’ Serrah asked.

‘They vary. Some are surprisingly large, others tight. All of them seem to be of a size that people can move through, though it’d be a bit of a squeeze in some.’

‘We’d be using what?’ Caldason said. ‘Water or sewage tunnels?’

‘Sewage.’