The guards gave Thea a closer look, brows lifting at her uniform. She was not wearing her badge, but he might not know what that meant. She wondered how long it had been since any member of the Watch had been in the Citadel. If, indeed, any member of the Watch had ever been here. She was far out of her jurisdiction.
The stone steps led to a wide, flat plain with squares of packed earth and grass. The area was mostly given over to what looked like practice arenas for the military. There were groups of uniformed soldiers practising their drills in the early morning sun, under the watchful eye of their officer.
The Treasury building itself took up the space next to the sheer cliff face. The entrance was, to Thea’s relief, facing the practice grounds, so she did not need to go need the cliff edge.
Beyond the practice grounds was the highest level of the Citadel complex, the place where the Ageless lived. They were too far away, still, even for Thea’s sharp eyesight to make out many details. She just had the impression of a fantastical building with brilliant white walls, towers rising into the sky and several wide, open-edged balconies around the building. A structure designed for the Ageless to come and go as they pleased.
She dragged her attention away from it as if that would make it go away and she could ignore how close she was to the Ageless. She was not here for them.
Even as she turned away and starting walking with Niath the short distance from the stone steps to the Treasury, movement at the Citadel caught her attention and she turned back, pausing in her stride.
One of the Ageless had taken off from one of the lower balconies, great white wings gleaming in the morning sunlight. From this distance it was impossible to tell, but Thea had the impression it was a woman, and an old one at that, the air around her shimmering with power.
“That’s the Archon herself,” Niath told her.
Even as Thea watched, the Ageless dropped something. Small and dark, it fell down and down to the ground far below. Thea was too far away to see it land, but Edris had dropped it from a great enough height that it would have been broken.
Beside her, Niath blew out a breath. She turned to find him frowning.
“That’s the third one in the past ten days,” Niath said, voice clipped. “Servants,” he added, at Thea’s silent question. “She doesn’t kill them,” he added, still in that same, tense voice. “She says she is teaching them a lesson. She will leave them there for the morning and then send one of the healers out.”
Thea shivered, cold in the morning sunlight, and turned away from the Citadel, swallowing hard against the curdling in her stomach. She remembered, all too well, falling through the air, unable to stop herself or do anything about it. She had been rescued, saved before she could hit the ground. Her brother had not been so lucky.
There was nothing she could do. Edris was the Archon. If she wanted to throw her servants off the highest tower in the Citadel every day, then she could do that. There would be no consequence for her.
There was nothing Thea could do. Not about Edris. Not about her servants.
She might be able to do something about the Treasury’s workers, though. That thought kept her going, keeping pace with Niath towards the Treasury itself.
There was another pair of soldiers at the doorway. This pair were Ageless-born, and far from looking bored, their interest sharpened when Niath approached.
“The Treasurer is expecting us,” Niath told them.
“So he said,” one of the soldiers said, staring at Thea. “She doesn’t belong here.”
“The Treasurer has agreed to her presence,” Niath answered, holding the soldier’s eyes.
The soldier made a low sound that might have been agreement but sounded more like disgust, and the pair of them pushed the heavy doors open before standing aside.
Wooden doors banded with iron and saturated with magic that made Thea’s skin prickle as they walked through the threshold. The soldiers outside were the least part of this building’s defence.
Inside, she was surprised to find the building brilliantly lit, with the middle of it hollowed out. The level that they had entered on was the top one, she realised, constructed as a wide balcony with several offices on one side, the wooden balcony railings overlooking a lower tier.
She followed Niath to the edge of the balcony, the wooden railings at waist height, and looked down.
And down. And down.
The Treasury stretched below her, deep into the heart of the mountain that supported the Citadel. There were at least three stories below them, all with the same open centre and wooden railings. There was a final level, far below, the heat from it rising through the rest of the building. The mint, with its furnace, must be down there.
There were people moving on the floors below. Fewer than she would have expected. She could see a bare handful. All dressed in unrelenting black. The Archon’s people.
“Is this her?”
The voice was coated with frost, the disdain clear.
Thea turned away from the Treasury to find a tall, slender Ageless in front of them. He was wearing his human aspect, his wings tucked away. It was difficult to tell how old the Ageless were, particularly when they were wearing their human faces, but this one had the slight chill she associated with very old Ageless. He was staring at her with flat, dark eyes that were a few shades darker than his cool-toned, dark skin.
“Treasurer Winchell. This is Watch Officer Thea March,” Niath said.
“I do not like this plan of yours,” the Ageless said to Niath, ignoring Thea.
“Officer March has training and experience of investigations that I do not have,” Niath said. It sounded like something he had said before. Many times.
“So you’re going to find the traitors, little girl?” the Ageless said, turning his flat eyes to Thea. Her shoulder blades itched under his dispassionate stare and the deliberately belittling term he had used for her. It was accurate, from his point of view. Her whole life to date was a mere blink to him.
“I am going to uncover the truth of the matter, sir,” Thea said. She had folded her hands behind her, copying Niath, and her fingers were laced together, sore from the pressure.
“Everyone you need to speak to is on the level below,” the Treasurer said, turning away from them. “Come and report to me when you have found the traitor.”
Before Thea could gather her thoughts to ask any questions, the Treasurer was heading for one of the open doors she could see at the side of the building.
“The stairs are this way,” Niath said, waving a hand in the other direction.
~
The stairs down into the Treasury were terrifying for Thea. They were built into the open space at the centre of the building, so there was nothing at all on one side of the stairs, the other side being tucked against the open sides of the floors.
Thea’s legs were trembling as she forced herself onto the staircase and to take the first steps down. She could see the floor of the Treasury below. It was not that far down, she told herself. She could survive that fall if she needed to. If her foot slipped, or the stair tread under her feet cracked, or the entire staircase fell.
None of those things happened. She stepped off the stairs onto the wooden floor of the next storey down, hoping that no one could see how relieved she was to have a solid floor under her.
This storey of the building looked like it had been set up as living quarters. There were individual room doors open on the other side of the central opening, underneath the offices above. The side that Thea and Niath had arrived at had no internal walls, the area one large space set out with long tables and benches, and what looked like a basic kitchen.
There were about a dozen people settled at the tables. They were all dressed in similar shapeless tunics and trousers made of undyed cloth. No browns or greens or blues here. Just plain, almost colourless lightweight garments that allowed them a good range of movement. They were not eating or drinking. Rather, they seemed to be waiting for something.
>
“The workers live here?” Thea asked Niath.
“The Conscripted ones, yes. The other workers have quarters in the lower level of the Citadel,” Niath answered.
So all the Treasury workers, one way or the other, lived within the Citadel’s walls. Niath had said something about that earlier, Thea remembered, when she had been off balance.
“Mage. They are ready for you.”
In her assessment of the floor, Thea had somehow missed that one of the workers had approached them. An elderly woman, white hair tied at the back of her head, lined face so pale the Thea wondered if she had ever seen the sun.
“Is this all of them?” Niath asked.
“All the Conscripted, yes,” the woman answered.
The Treasurer had said that everyone they needed to speak to was here. And everyone that had been gathered for Thea and Niath were Conscripted. Her jaw tightened. The Treasurer did not believe that any of his paid workers would betray him, but he was perfectly ready to believe that the unpaid ones, who had been dragged into the Archon’s service, would turn against their masters.
The tone of the elderly woman’s voice told Thea just how this woman felt about the Conscripted. Very much the same as the Treasurer. Thea’s shoulders squared, assessing the woman again. Ageless-born, and very old, judging by her lined face and white hair. Too old to still be within her Conscription. So she was being paid for her service to the Archon and the Treasury.
“We’ll talk to them one at a time,” Thea said, hearing her voice flat and confident, and moved towards the tables and chairs. “Alone,” she added, when the woman followed.
“They are under my supervision,” the woman said, mouth tightening. Angry and embarrassed, Thea suspected. And worried. If the staff under her supervision had managed to forge the Archon’s coins, the supervisor was likely to be punished, too. If she was very lucky, the Treasurer might spare her life. Thea did not think that Winchell had much mercy in him, though. And his workers would know it.
“We will get more out of them on our own,” Thea said, softening her voice a fraction.
The woman stared back at her, mouth in a thin, flat line, then nodded, once.
“I’ll be in my office upstairs if you need me,” she said, and walked away, heading for the stairs. She moved oddly, Thea saw, as if her leg had been broken and had not set right. But she did not have a walking stick. Too proud or too stubborn, perhaps.
Thea turned back to the workers. They were all staring at her and Niath with similar expressions. Sullen and resentful. With some fear showing.
Thea drew a breath in, the terror of the platform and the fear of the stairs fading. She had a job to do.
“How would you like to proceed?” Niath asked.
“We’ll start by talking with them as a group,” Thea decided, and headed towards the workers.
When she was at the end of the first table, she had everyone’s undivided attention. The only thing she could hear was a dull, thudding sound from below, which she assumed was the mint.
“I am Officer March,” she said, pitching her voice slightly louder to carry to the workers at the back. “This is Mage Niath. We are here to ask you questions.”
“We didn’t do nothing,” one of the workers said.
“No. But her ladyship doesn’t believe us,” another said. The title was said with a bitter, angry bite. He could only be referring to the supervisor.
“And himself wants us dead,” a third said. There was no anger in that voice. Just dull acceptance. The workers knew, as did Thea, that if the Treasurer wanted them dead, there was nothing that they, or she, could do to stop him.
But the Treasurer had not killed them all. Not yet. He was expecting Thea to identify the forgers for him, and hand them over for punishment. If someone in the Treasury had been forging coins, they would not live long under the Treasurer’s hands. The thought of it left a foul taste in her mouth, even if it was a better outcome than all of the people in front of her being killed.
“So why should we talk to you?” another of the workers asked.
“Because I want to know the truth,” Thea said. “And if you did not do anything wrong, then I will tell the Treasurer that.”
“Really? What about them?” the first speaker asked, jerking his chin towards something behind Thea.
Thea turned with Niath, and found more people coming down the stairs. The Treasurer. Another Ageless that she knew. And the Watch Captain, Ware Handerson.
Thea glanced across at Niath and saw surprise on his face. Without speaking, they moved forward to greet the newcomers.
“This additional interference is unnecessary,” the Treasurer was saying to the other Ageless as Thea approached.
“The Archon’s coins have been forged,” the Ageless said, voice cool. “The Archon herself is concerned.”
Reardon. Average height for an Ageless, with eyes as dark as her own, dark hair and the jagged silver trace of a scar on his forehead. One of the highest-ranked of the Archon’s soldiers. Commander of one of the garrisons at the Citadel. He had courted Thea’s mother for years. Relationships between the Ageless and humans were rare. Whatever Reardon had felt about her mother, he had left when his duties took him elsewhere, and had not answered Caroline March’s various letters when she had tried to get in touch with him to tell him that he had children. Twins. Thea and her brother.
For a moment Thea was nine years old again, falling through bright, cold air, with the shape of her brother’s body on the ground below her.
And then she was back in the here and now, facing an Ageless that she truly wished to avoid.
It was said that Ageless could recognise their offspring. That they felt a certain kinship with them. And Thea did not want to be recognised. Her mother had brought them here, hoping to hide among the displaced people in the city, to be just another pair among the rest of the people fleeing the effects of the Archon’s wars. And it had worked well for many years.
With the death of her son, and wanting to keep her daughter safe, Caroline March had cut off all ties with her former life, and the Citadel that they had lived at. Far from here. Where no one would know them.
Even with the threat of Conscription lifted, Thea knew that neither of them were safe. Not really. The Ageless did as they pleased, and would not be questioned. The Archon’s army could always use another skilled apothecary. It had been her mother’s job when she had met Reardon. And the armies themselves were always hungry for more soldiers. That, Thea believed, would be the most likely outcome if she and her mother were discovered. And it was not one that she, or her mother, wanted. Her mother had seen enough of war, she had said more than once. And Thea had no wish to die fighting a war she had no interest in. Had no wish at all to help the Archon expand her empire.
There were worse possible outcomes, too. Like being thrown from one of the Citadel’s towers, far higher than Edris had thrown her hapless servant not that long ago. And this time there would be no one to rescue Thea on the way down.
For a moment, she was tempted to run. It had been a hard enough day already, and she did not want to face Reardon, of all people. She had managed perfectly well without him until now and had no need of him.
Running would not help. He could catch her in moments if he wanted. And there was nowhere to run. This was the Citadel. The gates would be barred against her departure, even if she made it that far.
So she held her ground, lifted her chin a fraction, and tried to stay calm. At least on the outside.
“You brought the Watch into the matter,” Winchell hissed at Reardon, still furious.
Reardon glanced across at Thea, lifted a brow and turned back to the Treasurer.
“It seems I am not the only one.”
“I asked Niath to make discreet enquiries. This was not my idea,” Winchell said, voice brittle and sharp.
“You asked for my help,” Niath pointed out, voice flat. “I am giving it to you. Officer March agreed to help me.”
“On her own time, as well,” Ware noted. The others might not have understood the significance of her bare lapel. But the Watch Captain did. She was not on duty, and was not here representing the Watch.
Thea’s skin crawled at being talked about over her head, her shoulder blades prickling. She had fallen into Niath’s posture again, hands behind her back, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes as the Treasurer glared at Niath before turning his attention back to Reardon.
The power of the two Ageless shimmered in the air, making Thea’s skin crawl. She was not surprised to realise that Reardon was more powerful than the Treasurer.
“I can’t have you all in here all day,” the Treasurer said to Reardon. “There has been enough disruption already.”
Thea’s attention sharpened. She didn’t know precisely what went on inside the Treasury, or the mint below them, but it had seemed to her that work was still going on.
“A verification of the Treasury’s holdings was a prudent measure,” Reardon said, voice clipped. “To assess the extent of the damage.”
Ah. An audit of some kind, Thea assumed. Which might well have been carried out by Reardon and his people. No wonder the Treasurer was annoyed.
“And as I assured you before it started, the Treasury’s records and holdings are intact,” the Treasurer said.
“The Archon did not have that confidence,” Reardon answered.
Thea wanted to take a step away from the power and anger that was almost visible in the air between the two Ageless. The younger one holding his ground, confident and assured of his position. The older one not used to being questioned, and equally assured of his authority. He had been the Archon’s Treasurer for a long time, Thea remembered.
“What was the finding of the verification?” she asked.
The question hung in the air between the two of them before they both turned to her with almost identical expressions of surprise. She had broken through their private war without meaning to.
“The Treasury’s holdings are intact,” the Treasurer said, speaking mostly to some point beyond Thea’s shoulder, and not to her.
False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2 Page 7