A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1)

by REEVE, LAURA E.

  “Why did you choose this mark?” Haversar asked Skuva.

  “Dapper enough to carry gold, and walking like a gentleman who’d tipped back too much drink.” Late on Fairday evening, Skuva made the most obvious conclusion. He’d earned the elite position of working the streets of Betarr Serin with his light touch and quick fingers.

  “What happened then?”

  “I followed him a couple blocks, then got close enough to cut the strings on his purse.” Skuva gulped. “He was quick as a cat. Grabbed me by the collar and arm, so I couldn’t twist away.”

  “Did he say anything? Did he have an accent?” Haversar asked.

  “He said, ‘What ho, boy,’ and he sounded Tyrran as you or me. Then his hood fell back. He might have been Tyrran, ‘cept his eyes. They shone bright in the gaslight.” Skuva tried to shake his head, and winced.

  Haversar believed Skuva, even though there weren’t more than ten Groygans inside the sister cities. Skuva was only twelve, and looked even younger because of his size—a Tyrran couldn’t hurt a child like that. An outraged Tyrran gentleman would have done no more than drag Skuva to the nearest watch post or give the boy a lecture; the offended adult thought their words could change the wayward child. Haversar had taught Skuva to listen respectfully and promise to set his ways straight. The boy took his training seriously because he couldn’t get afternoon lessons or apprenticeships; only Haversar could provide him with a future.

  “So, at that point, he knew you’d outed him as Groygan?” Haversar asked.

  “Yes, ‘cause I tried to get away. His grip turned to iron and his face—well, he got serious. He pulled me into the alley and started hitting me. I couldn’t do nothing ‘bout it, I swear by the Horn. He was too strong.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  Skuva’s eyes went wide as he remembered, and one of his pupils appeared larger than the other. “Something ‘bout taking a message.”

  Haversar understood. He waved at the two people who were trying to apply rudimentary first aid to Skuva. “Let him rest, but watch him. If he worsens, drop him off at the Betarra Hospital.”

  There was murmured surprise at his words, but he frowned back and eyes dropped. He motioned Johtu over to his side. “Something’s afoot at the Groygan embassy, and we’ve been warned to back off.”

  “Why? What have we done to the Groygans?” Johtu might be a little slow, but this time he’d gotten to the crux as fast as Haversar.

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps we’ve seen something we shouldn’t. Talk to everyone assigned to Betarr Serin yesterday. See if anything strange—stranger than normal—has been happening.” Haversar chose the people he placed in the upper city carefully, to avoid drawing unwanted attention. The King and his counselors lived up there, but more importantly, so did the matriarchs of the most powerful lineages in Tyrra. He stepped lightly around matriarchs, because they had the resources to put him out of business if he became too much of a nuisance.

  “Where, do you suppose, were the Phrenii? They wouldn’t let this happen.”

  “You’re being Tyrran, assuming the boy is under their protection. You wouldn’t take the chance that they’d be close enough to sense his distress.” Yet another reason Haversar believed a Groygan had attacked Skuva. A Tyrran adult wouldn’t chance the madness they’d suffer if the Phrenii found them hurting a child.

  “Well, the boy’s lucky he didn’t get his throat cut.” Johtu fingered his own knife hanging on his belt.

  There it was again, the little twisting in Haversar’s gut. He was definitely too invested in Skuva. After a deep breath, he said, “Keep a quiet eye on the Groygan embassy. I want to know when they’re going in and out, and how—although I expect all the tunnels have been blocked.”

  Johtu nodded, and left to disseminate orders. Folklore said the Betarr Serin houses occupied by the matriarchs had entrances to ancient tunnels, reputedly running throughout the plateau. At one time, these tunnels supported intrigue and surreptitious meetings between lineages. Supposedly there was no way out of the upper city or off the plateau through the tunnels, but Haversar made no assumptions. He wondered whether he should pass Jan any advice, perhaps a warning; did these hunches qualify as payment of life-debt? No, this was purely personal right now.

  •••

  Draius filed a report with the watch, so it was long after supper hour when she quietly let herself into the house. Jan’s aunt Anja, who became matriarch of the Serasa-Kolme after his grandmother started her path to the Stars, owned this stately bluestone house with marble architrave about the main door and front windows. The Serasa-Kolme also had a house up in Betarr Serin, but the new matriarch preferred to stay in Betarr Serasa, loaning the upper-city house to Jan’s sister.

  When she married, Draius changed her lineal name to Serasa-Kolme, so now Lady Serasa-Kolme Anja alone considered the complaint of Jan’s infidelity. Draius hadn’t met Anja before she took the chance of exposing her marital problems. Their original contract was a standard, simple one that didn’t allow for infidelity. At this point, Jan probably regretted not getting the additional clauses that allowed one to seek comfort outside the marriage, sometimes needed to make arranged marriages bearable.

  Anja was new to her position, but had been trained well. The matriarch needed to know how Jan felt toward his son, and whether there was a chance for more children from Jan and Draius. Anja had listened intently to the story and then asked, “Does Jan fulfill his duties as father and husband?”

  “Peri adores his father, and Jan’s very attentive.” Draius could be confident about this, even if she no longer knew whether Jan could love anyone.

  The matriarch’s questions became pointed and persistent, as well as embarrassing. “Do you still share a bed? Do you allow him to touch you?”

  She’d flushed and stammered, and the truth came out. By the time she and Jan returned from Betarr Kain, they rarely slept together. Jan accused her of changing, becoming colder. His argument became self-fulfilling as he sought discrete dalliances, and she withdrew further.

  But the last affair, after they came back to the sister cities, was different. It was public, and it was serious—Draius was aghast to learn how long he’d been seeing Netta and how open they’d been. She was humiliated and furious. When she first spoke to Lady Anja about it, she wanted retribution and satisfaction for her wounded pride. Matriarchs often meted out punishment: the term was “matriarchal justice for lineal matters.”

  “Any action I take must be for the good of the family line. The children. So what can I do to mend your relationship?” Anja asked. “What could happen to allow Jan back in your bed?”

  Draius had no answer. Matriarchal theory stated that children rarely resulted from unwilling or unhappy women. Tyrran women lived in the paradoxical world of arranged marriages where they were supposed to be content and satisfied. With the falling birth rate since the Fevers, it was no wonder that more contracts had comfort clauses and the taking of lovers had become common.

  Anja decided to see if time could shrink the chasms between Draius and Jan. Her decisions were swift: Draius and Peri would move in with Anja, while Jan would live separately and without his lineal stipend. Jan had been livid and for once, he couldn’t hide his anger. But Anja stood firm. Since he couldn’t afford to rent a decent house with only his Guard salary and he wasn’t on good terms with his sister, Jan took officer rooms at the barracks rather than lease accommodations.

  Draius quietly closed the large front door. This was a beautiful house, but after an erin it still didn’t feel like home. Living under Anja’s scrutiny made her uncomfortable. She suspected Anja wanted some decisions from her, but she felt ambivalent, rudderless and, worst of all, responsible. Time had frozen—everyone became motionless while they looked to her—as if she had the answers! So she had finally upped the stakes and made the complaint formal. She’d pushed her letter under Lady Anja’s parlor door when she’d departed for patrol duty, so early in the morning that no
one else stirred within the house.

  “You’re late,” Anja said, coming down the stairs. “Have you eaten? I can rouse Nin. She put some lamb aside for left-over.”

  Lady Serasa-Kolme Anja was young for a matriarch. She appeared to be near Draius’s age and strangely, she was unmarried. Her high cheekbones and sharply sculpted nose were typical Tyrran. Like Jan, her eyes were unusually dark blue, but her silver-blond hair and eyebrows were definitely Meran, and so light they looked white in the lamplight. She had the same Serasa-Kolme inscrutability as Jan, but not the ability for displaying a mask of contrived emotion. Anja was dressed in her bedclothes, her hair tied back for the night. The lamp she carried threw her shadow back up the stairs to the second floor.

  “No, please don’t bother. I lost my appetite at the Sea Serpent.”

  “I heard the news from the crier. It’s all over town,” Anja said. “And a runner stopped by with a message from Captain Rhaffus. You’re to report to him tomorrow.”

  On Ringday? Draius wearily nodded. She should have the day off. Instead, she’d be paying for this evening’s fit of temper and facing Erik’s insubordination charges. She pushed her dark thoughts aside and asked, “Is Peri in bed?”

  “Yes, although he wanted to stay up for you. But Fairday or no, I want him in bed at a regular hour.”

  “I spoke with Jan tonight. What has he been saying to Peri—and to what purpose?” The words came out harsher than Draius intended.

  “I think he was talking about how you could be reunited. Peri became apprehensive, it seemed.” Anja made no attempt to qualify Jan’s secondary, and subtler, motives. Her own expression was impassive as she paused, searching Draius’s face in the lamplight.

  When Draius didn’t reply, Anja lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I won’t keep him from his son. Jan has his parental rights, as do you.”

  Her jaw was rigid with anger, but Draius managed a polite goodnight. After she stepped past the matriarch she realized that neither of them had mentioned the written complaint. She went to Peri’s room and, as usual, the boy was sleeping light.

  “Ma?” The silver-blond head turned.

  “I’m back, Peri. How ya doing?” She hugged him. “How was your eight-day?”

  “Afternoon lessons have been so boring, I’m starting angles and calculations. Yesterday, I followed the unicorn—”

  “Where’d you learn that word?”

  “Ilke said it.” His gray eyes went wide. Peri’s cousin Ilke was precocious and bossy for nine years, but then, Draius had been the same at that age. Before the Fevers.

  “Well, that’s a vulgar word. Ilke shouldn’t use that word for a phrenic element. They’re ‘the Phrenii’ and they’re not individuals.”

  “They have names—we were with Dahni.”

  “Their names are only for our convenience. Did you touch it?” A shadow passed over her heart. When would he be too old?

  “Sure. Dahni showed us the northwest canal.”

  “Don’t ever touch them if you don’t feel like it.” Of course, adult warnings weren’t necessary; everyone knew when he or she shouldn’t touch the Phrenii any more.

  “I won’t.” He leaned against her for a few moments and she thought he had gone back to sleep. She marveled at his seven-year-old body: one moment he was awake and the next he was asleep.

  He wasn’t asleep. “Da came to visit every morning.”

  “I heard.”

  “He says maybe we should move back to Betarr Kain. Then everything will be alright.” Peri ended with a lilt of question. He hadn’t been happy in Betarr Kain, where there were fewer children his age and only one Serasa-Kolme cousin, a much older boy.

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with where we live.”

  “But you came back here because of me—” Tears formed in her son’s eyes.

  “Shush. Your Da and me—it has nothing to do with you or moving back to the sister cities.” She put a finger on his lips, while cold rage built into a rock of ice in her chest. Jan wasn’t above letting his own son feel guilty about his estrangement, particularly when he knew Draius would be compelled to step in and take the blame. Because it’s my fault, isn’t it? I had to bring it up with Lady Anja, and I was so angry that I wanted to punish Jan. Now he’s pushing back on all fronts.

  Peri didn’t say anything. He turned away, his body tense. He didn’t believe her empty assurances. Spending a moment in thought, she realized that Jan hadn’t noticed how happy Peri became after they’d moved here.

  “Betarr Kain isn’t a fun place to grow up. After all, there was only your Da and me and you and cousin Jenni and her son. That’s not a family, is it?” She poked him lightly in the side to get a response.

  He snorted. “I suppose not.”

  “No, because you should grow up within the Serasa-Kolme. Think of all the things that Lady Anja and the sister cities can provide. The Pettaja tutor for you and your cousins. Your classroom. The canals. And we have the Serasa-Kolme offices and houses, as well as more horses and coaches—”

  “And the markets. And Nin. She’s such a good cook.” Peri turned back, his expression lighter.

  She started stroking his head. “Don’t forget the security of the Phrenii. Even though Jhari or Famri visited Betarr Kain once in a while, we always have two elements in the cities. Honestly, don’t you like it here better?”

  “Sure, but Da—”

  “Your Da is angry with me, and only me. We’re having grown-up problems—which makes for really boring arguments, believe me.”

  “He’s angry with Lady Anja, too. About his stipend.” Peri yawned, drifting into sleep.

  Her eyebrows rose. Perhaps she’d underestimated her son, although this could be the result of Peri having his older cousins about him. The vision of bossy, lanky Ilke, standing a head taller than Peri, made Draius remember her young years in the cities, running after the Phrenii with her Meran-Viisi cousins. She’d spent her afternoon lessons with two future kings and hadn’t they gossiped about the marriages and affairs of older cousins and parents? But that was too long ago. Her memories felt strangely remote, like they’d happened to a different Draius.

  She kept stroking his head until he fell asleep. After kissing his forehead and inhaling the scent of his hair, she left for her room.

  She hoped she wouldn’t toss about and relive the hurtful words she and Jan flung at each other. But after she snuggled into the featherbed, she dreamed about the Sea Serpent. Repeatedly, she ran down the gallery toward that bloody room, only to be whisked to the end of the gallery and run its length again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Third Ringday, Erin Two, T.Y. 1471

  Unfortunately, every step we take to save our tattered plans takes us deeper. We’ve gone past the point of no return.

  I rousted my apprentice again. The clock rang three hours past midnight, when only Star Watchers were awake as they plot their precise maps of our ancestors. My employer knew where the double-dealing Sareenian ship owner could be found, and he dictated the time.

  We were betrayed for Groygan gold, but what did it buy? We suspect the lodestone has gone beyond anyone’s control, and we will confirm this with the Sareenian. If I were a superstitious sort, I might believe our bad luck is due to a malevolent spell but my charms, unsophisticated but functional, indicate we’ve not been touched by any type of magic.

  Yet bad luck hounds us. Our inept City Guard didn’t find the carefully planted evidence that proves Reggis a traitor and implicates the Groygans. We cannot turn the ship around, we cannot protect her from pirates, and we cannot prevent storms from hounding her—although we figure they become milder the further away from the Phrenii she sails. Most worrisome of all, is her valuable cargo still sound? Perhaps the ship owner can tell us more.

  For me, this long night held even more disappointment. The ecstasy from the councilman’s death didn’t carry through to my next experiment. Alone, as my apprentice slept, I dared to try activating it: the shard of
the Kaskea that should give me entry to the Void and the secrets of the Phrenii. After channeling such power this evening, I thought my blood might carry enough magic to cause an effect. Nothing happened. The small shard lay quiescent, covered with drops of my blood and mocking me, proving my common lineage better than any matriarch. I wrapped and hid it under the floorboards again, trying to put it out of my mind.

  I busied myself with checking my blades and tools in the valise. I heard my apprentice struggling into his coat, already tight across his growing shoulders.

  “Come along, we’ve work to do,” I called, as I snapped the valise shut.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Office of Investigation

  COUNCILMAN MERAN-NELJA REGGIS BIZARRELY BUTCHERED! IS MAGICAL MURDER TOO MUCH FOR OUR BUNGLING CITY GUARD?

  Chaos reigned last night at the Sea Serpent where Councilman Reggis was found brutally murdered. City Guard responded immediately, but didn’t control the ensuing confusion as looting and damage occurred in the Sea Serpent. City Guard Officer Meran-Kolme Erik admitted he was baffled (perhaps by the ale, being far into his cups?) He couldn’t explain how the councilman was disemboweled in a room with a locked door and no windows…

  —The Horn & Herald, Third Ringday, Erin Two, T.Y. 1471

  On any other Ringday the City Guard Headquarters would be quiet and minimally manned, but this morning it bustled with activity. Several watchmen sat at the front desk and the heavy oak benches were filled with bleary-eyed people. The lucky ones had staked out enough room on their bench to lie down, while others slept in sitting positions.

  Looking them over, Draius recognized faces and realized the watch was still collecting statements from the Sea Serpent’s clientele. The scents of stale beer and unwashed bodies drifted about. She walked past the desk and down the cool stone hallway to the captain’s office.