Colossus with a Poison Tongue: A Novel of the Occult by Coy Hall

Author:Coy Hall [Hall, Coy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Scythian Wolf
Published: 2024-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

As Mugge and Oswen rummaged through the greenhouse, collecting tools for an excavation beneath the Colossus, a harlot and her scullery maid rushed in from the dark street. Babylonia, a woman Mugge knew well, was anemic with shock. The servant, a girl the High Prophet had never seen before, was caught in the moment, lost, bewildered, and frightened.

Not wishing to be seen with a peasant tool, Mugge handed the spade to Oswen. He crossed between raised beds of potatoes and onions. The air in the greenhouse was damp and close.

“They’re not obeying, Magus,” said Babylonia. “The women chased us from the Temple. They threw down hundreds of these pamphlets.” She drew the booklet from the pouch at her waist. The title read: Various Thoughts on the Occasion of the Late Comet.

Over her shoulder, in the empty street of the butcher’s quarter, a Horus-falcon droned a recorded message. Moonlight glazed the pavement.

Citizens of Saint Ghost: return to your homes and shelter in place. Vacate the streets and make room for emergency personnel.

Priests: congregate at the palace.

“Give me that,” said Mugge.

Babylonia handed over the document.

The High Prophet flipped through the Oracle forgery. The claims inside were heinous. The seditious hatchet job on Mugge portended his doom. He wadded the pamphlet and threw it at a tub of tomato plants.

Oswen unclipped the radio from his waist. He spun the dial, but the device was dead, the battery drained.

“How many people are there?” asked Mugge.

His heart was in his throat. I can punish five, he thought, but I’m at the mercy of five hundred. And with no guards willing to surround me, prepared to die in my service.

“It’s a sea of people, Magus. It’s the entirety of Saint Ghost, I fear.”

“Even some of the soothsayers are with them,” said the girl.

Mugge looked at Oswen.

The seer shrank from his scrutiny.

“The radio isn’t working, Magus,” he said. “It’s drained. I didn’t know.”

Citizens of Saint Ghost: return to your homes and shelter in place. Whosoever disobeys this edict shall have their left eye removed.

“Magus, Lady Mirabel, your wife, is with them. She desecrated the harem,” said Babylonia. “She wrote foul things on the walls. She drew vile pictures.”

That, too, was expected. Eventually. She refuses to be on the losing side of anything, Mugge thought. She gave me my day, I suppose. His chest tightened with rage, regardless. I’ll kill her for this, he decided. I’ll finally kill her. And not with poison, but by the cold logic of the law. I’ll do it right. And slow. Publicly.

“Mirabel is ill,” he said. “Will the three of you be faithful to me? I need it now more than ever. I’ve no guards left.”

The harlot and scullery maid nodded.

Mugge turned to Oswen. “Will you, despite the turn of your brethren, stand with me, Seer?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“Fine. Give each of them an axe and find one for yourself. I don’t suspect you have a gun at your disposal?”

“No, Magus.”

To Babylonia, Mugge said, “I do not expect you to shed blood, but I need your protection.

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