by Beth Lyons
When she didn’t answer I walked back down the stairs. Remorse setting in step by step. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with her. She’d just gotten terrible news.
“You will be the death of me, Vox Swift. I swear it.” With that she ran up the stairs and into the office.
When I joined her, I saw Boleian sitting on the floor surrounded by books. He looked up and said, “At this point Vox, I think you’re early for tomorrow’s shift.” Riksah trotted up and wrapped her tail around Boleian’s arm. “Can we have the cat without the human?” He stroked her fur. “She’s grown on me.”
“Good morrow to thee, kind sir.” Even lifted the hem of her robe and bowed.
“No one ever talked like that, Even. You grow stranger every day.” To me Boleian said, “She’s the reason you’re late?”
“We found a body, and we need your help.”
Even said, “That’s just it – you found a body. You still don’t know who. Just because—”
“I saw her, Even. You didn’t.”
I told Boleian about finding what I was certain was Fara Fram’s body and being interrupted, and detained, by the police.
“So the cops show up saying that someone was stealing?”
“Technically speaking Boleian, one robs a place and steals an object.”
He raised an eyebrow at Even’s words, but before he could retort I said, “Can you come with us? What are you doing right now?”
“I was running down an idea I have about dimension door.” He flicked a few pages with the tips of his fingers. “What if Helena was killed elsewhere and transported to the library?”
“We talked about that already—”
“Let me finish. If the place you want to land is already occupied, you are shifted randomly 100 to 1,000 feet in another direction.”
“It’s not that simple.” Even paused at the look on Boleian’s face and continued, “But your reasoning is sound. Quite, quite sound.”
“Can it wait though?” I asked. “I think it’s important that we check out the dead girl’s apartment.” An edge of urgency had crept into my voice, and I didn’t know why.
“I’ve been to Helena Grimwell’s apartment, Vox. It’s—”
“Not Helena,” I corrected Boleian. “The other girl, Fara Fram.”
He stood and smoothed down his robes. “We are awash with dead girls, aren’t we?”
“You don’t think one man killed—”
With the flick of his hand he cut off Even’s question. “A good detective doesn’t presuppose. A good detective remains open, receptive to the situation.”
“You been saving that speech up for a while, eh?” Even rubbed the side of her nose. “So glad I could provide just the right moment.”
“Fight later. I want to get back to the apartment before someone else finds her.” I moved toward the door hoping the two humans would simply fall in behind me.
“The police came?”
I turned to see that Boleian hadn’t moved. “You’re not spooked about that, are you?”
His only response was a raised eyebrow.
“If the police came once,” Even nodded her head, “they’ll come again. Whoever that girl is—”
“It’s Fara, I’m sure.”
“Whoever she is, someone is missing her.” Even patted her robe. “I can cast invisibility, but I’m fresh out of gum arabic. Boleian—”
“We need invisibility sphere if all three of us hope to enter the apartment.” Boleian opened a box on the bookshelf and pulled out an amber-colored nugget. “Vox, you must practice your lessons. Invisibility is a fairly easy spell. After three months with Underwood you should have at least the basics of it.” He massaged the nugget as he spoke.
Even rubbed her eye and then looked at her hand. She repeated the process. I turned to see Boleian doing the same thing. “What’s going on?”
“Got it!” Boleian announced, and Even dropped her hand.
“What—” I began to repeat my question, but Even interrupted.
“Eyelashes,” she said. “Gotta have them for the spell. Gum arabic and eyelashes. Technically one eyelash is enough but with a sphere, better to do one for each member.”
We arrived outside the Treefall apartment building just after eight o’clock on Tuesday night. The bells of St. Albec’s tolled their number slowly, and I sensed Even shiver. “Bram knows,” she whispered. “Bell ringer at the orphanage. He’s tolling for the dead.”
As the eighth tone echoed out into the city I patted Even’s hand. “Only eight,” I whispered. “Only the hours.”
Boleian led us to a side alley and cast invisibility sphere over the group. “We move as a unit,” he said softly.
By the time we got to Fara Fram’s apartment, we’d mastered the art of moving together, but once inside the apartment, the need for cover vanished. Dim light shone through the one window, and Even touched my arm. “Cast light, won’t you, Vox?”
“Um...”
“It’s an easy spell! Babies come out of the womb knowing how to cast light!”
“I don’t have a firefly handy, and besides I haven’t made up a song yet.” I started to dig into my pocket for my ball of light. That would at least allow us to see where we were going. But before I had it out of my pocket, a light flared in the kitchen area revealing Boleian with a brightly-lit spoon in his hand. “It was the first thing to hand,” he said with a shrug. “Now where’s this body?”
I moved toward the bedroom and doubt filled my mind. What if I’d been wrong? I’d only seen the body for a moment before Jesskah Morningstar interrupted. The door swung slowly open, responsive to barely a touch.
“It doesn’t smell like dead body.” Boleian brushed past me and into the bedroom.
“Fire,” I heard Even say behind me. “Fire and fear.” A glance showed her walking slowly toward the small living area. She held her hands in front of her, moving them in a slow circular movement as if gathering something toward her. With a plop Even sat on the couch and gestured to the open box on the coffee table. “Fire.”
“Vox? To me, if you please.” Boleian’s voice was unreadable. Had he found a body or nothing at all? I held up a finger to Even, who wasn’t even looking at me, and hurried into the bedroom.
“Stop! Right there.” Boleian stood on the far side of the bed. “What do you sense, Vox? What does your mind tell you?”
The question was rhetorical; I’d been around wizards enough to know that. But what was my mind telling me? Besides the obvious “Don’t respond to Boleian”, of course. I closed my eyes. What was there for it to tell me? Either there was a dead girl under the bed or not. And why would she be under the bed? Why were we finding dead girls in strange places? Had the same person killed both?
“Vox. Stop.”
That was quite a direct thing for my mind to say.
“Vox.” Boleian’s voice was in my ear. “Open your eyes, girl. You simply must learn to focus. Any spell – every spell demands focus to a degree.”
“I don’t—”
“You do; you must!” Boleian took my elbow and drew me toward the bed. “A girl’s fate depends on you and your magic.”
I saw that Boleian had moved the bed farther from the wall so that the body was visible. Blonde hair, medium figure. Age and looks were impossible to determine because the face and chest were badly burned.
“Fear and fire,” I murmured. “Even!” I stumbled toward the bedroom door, calling for Even, and Boleian tried to hush me.
She was still sitting on the couch, the box in her lap; her hands moved slowly across the front of the wooden box.
“Even! Don’t touch it.”
“Trap’s well and truly sprung, young Vox. Naught to hurt me or anyone else now.” She returned the box to the table.
“Fire trap, how very clever.” Boleian surveyed the small living room. “The girl comes home, finds a box on the table, sits down...” Boleian looked at the lone chair. “No, not there.”
“No s
corch marks here either, so he took the other chair.” Even’s voice was flat.
“Room for another chair here, certainly.” Boleian nodded as he continued, “She opens the box. Fire explodes out, kills her, or near enough. Killer comes back, finishes the work, moves the body, takes the chair.”
“Why hide the body?” I said. “Why come back at all? If the girl wasn’t killed—”
“She has a name! Her name was Fara Fram.” Even stood. “Her name is Fara, and I’ll see her now.”
Boleian touched her arm. “Before you do, there’s something I want Vox to learn.” With that he led me back to the bedroom threshold. “Unusual magic at play here, Vox Swift. A good detective notices what’s missing but also what’s been added. Magic is a tactile tool. We use our whole body when we cast, and so detecting magic is the same. Stands to reason, does it not? Make note of any odd sounds, smells, feelings that you have as you cast your detection spell.”
After a moment I realized that was a directive. “You want me to…?”
“Yes! Fara Fram doesn’t have all day for you to prepare, Vox and neither do I.”
I nodded my head and tried to find the beat. I’m looking for you, I sang silently. “Both night and day,” I murmured.
Boleian slapped me on the back. “Sing, dammit. Not too loud, but sing. Give voice to a dead girl. She deserves a chance to help us.”
Sharp breath behind me, and Even said, “Don’t you dare suggest necromancy, Boleian of Vedasa! We haven’t always seen eye to—”
“It was a figure of speech, Even. Perhaps you have heard of those? Similes, metaphors, analogies. When I said, ‘Give voice—’”
“Hush.” I flapped my hand at them. I could smell fresh laundry, the sharp, clear scent of lavender. “I’m looking for you both night and day. I’m looking for you, high and low….” I moved toward the bed, feeling the heat of a boiling kettle. I tasted coppery blood, and then I was standing over the dead girl’s body.
Detectives notice what’s been added. That’s what Boleian had said. I wasn’t much of a detective then because I hadn’t seen the copper coins on the ruined face the first or second time I’d looked.
Absently rubbing my thumb and forefingers together I stared down at Fara Fram. I didn’t know the spell’s name but I understood that someone had preserved her. Someone had stood over her dead body and sprinkled salt, and then placed copper coins over what was left of her eyes.
But why? In the living room I’d wondered why anyone would hide the body, and here I had to ask why preserve it? To give the murderer time to flee the city? Depending on his magic level, the spell might give him two or three days – maybe more. But really, how hard is it to melt into the bustle of Thornbury? Why waste time and magical energy on preserving the dead girl?
I knelt to touch one of the coins. Shayna, by all that is holy in your eyes, please let me know.
I hadn’t realized it was a prayer until I felt one of my fingers graze the coin, and satisfaction flowed through me. I heard a voice say, “The final piece falls into place.”
The final piece? What did those words mean? And that feeling of satisfaction? Had that been me or the killer?
Chapter 13 The Summons
I felt Boleian’s eyes on me as I knelt beside the body. “You wanted me to notice the coins, didn’t you?”
“It’s hard at first, seeing dead bodies. The mind wants to look away, reject what it sees.”
“Not my first dead body, Boss.”
“No, but the setting. So much magic, hope, and anger in this little place.”
Even moved past Boleian to join me at the body. With her arms folded tightly across her chest Even said, “The fire spell. He made it powerful hoping to finish her in one blast. I detected evil in the kitchen.” Before I could laugh, Even said, “I’m serious, Vox. The killer waited in the kitchen. Maybe used an invisibility spell just like we did. He waited. A hunter patiently waiting for his prey. This was no accident. Might even have been a paid killer.”
“You might be right,” said Boleian. “Fire trap isn’t cheap. Costs twenty-five gold, if I recall, but it is normally fairly weak.”
Even shook her head. “Weak for an armored warrior maybe, but she was just a girl.”
The girl was dressed in a simple skirt and top. Muted colors. The top looked thin and delicate. Melted fabric clung to her frame in some places.
The killer had placed the dead girl’s hands neatly across her stomach. Her nails were painted red but neatly trimmed. Blonde hair fanned out in simple tendrils. No spiky styling gel for Fara Fram.
I straightened up. “It is Fara, isn’t it?” I looked at Even.
“Certainly seems so. The nuns buy those brown skirts in bulk.”
“The paladins might be able to tell us more.” Boleian clapped his hands together. “And speaking of the police, we need to report this.”
“Uh-uh,” I said. “I really don’t think that Jesskah Morningstar is going to understand why it is that I came to be back in this apartment.” I tried to step back and thumped the wall.
“I’ll do the reporting,” Even said. “Stands to reason – I have the orphanage connection. The police haven’t seen me here.” Even grasped my forearm. “For good or ill, that’s the truth. Now, you and Boleian shoo.”
###
Anson Street on a Tuesday night could make you think Thornbury’s a small town. Our footsteps rang and bounced off the brick walls. “Your place is the other direction,” Boleian said to me as we neared the office.
“Yeah, I need to get those reports done. Clarissa Morn—” I stopped as I realized what I’d said. Boleian hadn’t expressly forbidden me from seeing the Morningstars, but he hadn’t been exactly warm to the idea either.
“What was that?” Boleian’s bored tone belied the tension in his body.
“The report you wanted for Miles Edjrest – I thought why not make one for Clarissa Morningstar while I’m at it?” Shrug. “That way you can deliver it to her.”
“The shrug is a nice touch, Vox. Someone who didn’t know that you’d visited—”
“Boleian of Vedasa?” A shadow broke away from the front of our building, and a man stepped toward us. “Miles Edjrest would like to see you.”
“And I will be delighted to see him, tomorrow. The office is open at nine o’clock.”
The man folded his hands over his belt. “Mr. Edjrest keeps late hours. He expressly asked that I bring you tonight.”
“And I,” Boleian bowed, “am ready to go. Vox, please lock—”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thanks for letting me tag along.” Ever since Farley Edjrest had mentioned that their house abuts the Morninstar’s I’d wanted to take a closer look.
I fell in step with the man as we made our way toward Gainly Avenue. “You were at the office yesterday, right? Helping with the wheeled chair? Clever design. That your idea?”
He didn’t answer. I was tempted to try charm person on him but in the dark, walking, didn’t really seem like the best plan. Not if I wanted him to be unaware. And really I asked myself, what could I learn from him that would warrant using the spell?
“How long you worked for Mr. Edjrest?” Maybe I should use a spell on him. Servants see everything. And one who has to help his employer in and out of a chair….
“Vox, this man doesn’t have time for your prattle. I apologize for my young assistant. She is, at times, over eager.”
The man nodded, and we continued on in silence. If I hadn’t heard him speak earlier I’d think he was mute.
We entered the Edjrest house from a side entrance. Servant’s entrance. I shot Boleian a look, but if he had any feeling about the way we entered the house, he kept it to himself. I hadn’t spent much time with the elder Edjrest, but I had a feeling that his son learned his imperious manners at his father’s knee.
The old man sat by a roaring fire with a blanket covering his legs. At his elbow, an ornate tea pot and two cups. When he spied me, Miles Edjrest said to
the man, “Another cup, please Vance. I should have thought that the young Miss Swift would be joining us.” He waved us toward the couch opposite his chair.
I sat down feeling bewildered by the reception. The man had barely acknowledged my presence yesterday at the office, but today I was “Miss Swift.”
“When the weather bites I find that hot chocolate warms me to the core.” He leaned over to grasp the handle, and I resisted the urge to spring up to assist.
“We were sorry to hear the news of Miss Grimwell.” I raised my voice to be heard over the fire.
Miles Edjrest’s hand shook as he directed the hot chocolate into the cups. Vance returned with a third cup and saucer, and on his way from the room, Vance handed the full cup to me.
“Thank you, Miss Swift.” Miles’ eyes didn’t leave the table. “I’d be lying if I said that the news didn’t knock me back. She was so lively, had so much to live for.”
“We will find the culprit. Don’t doubt that, sir.” Boleian half rose and took the cup Miles had extended to him. “We often work with the police on cases like this. Work hand in glove with them.”
“Indeed. Well, they haven’t sent me a report either. You share that trait.”
If ever a man demanded a charm person spell, it was Miles Edjrest. I leaned forward, gave him a smile, and hummed a few bars with my mouth closed. Chin in hand I said, “I want to know the real Helena, not the girl in gold. What was she like, really?”
“That’s your job!” Miles frowned. “I didn’t lay out good money to answer your questions for you!”
Those were not the words of a charmed man. So much for magic.
“What Vox is trying to say—”
“What I’m saying, Mr. Edjrest, is that Helena’s life ended on a rug in a stranger’s house. In order to understand why that happened we need to know what choices brought Helena to that path.” My emphatic gesture slopped hot chocolate on to the saucer. “Help or don’t. But your cooperation could allow us to catch the killer and bring justice to Helena, to her memory.”