“When I said the tapestry and sword were priceless, I wasn’t making a joke,” Nokka said. “All the items are valuable, as well as having historical significance. I’m sure buyers could be found for everything except the Kaskea shard.”
“Why no buyers for the shard?”
“Not useable by anyone but the King, of course—as if anyone would want to use it.” Nokka shuddered and wrapped his arms around his chest. “All the shards look like common pieces of slate with lines engraved. How would anyone prove their authenticity?”
“I don’t suppose they can ask the King to hand over his ring so they can compare them.” Lornis made an attempt at humor, but Draius wasn’t amused. Inside, she was building herself up to a cold rage, and rather enjoying the process.
“So this is how the Pettaja do their duty as caretakers?” Her voice was cold.
“We’re sworn to protect knowledge, not precious artifacts. These items—”
“Many of which are supposed to be destroyed. A king requested—no, ordered your ancestors to destroy these items, and they didn’t comply. Am I to assume the thieves took all the documents proscribed under the King’s Law?”
“Yes, that’s all of them.” Nokka was responding, in kind, to her anger. “But it’s ridiculous to expect a modern library to enforce such ancient and superstitious—”
“What’s your lineal name?”
Nokka stopped, shocked at her impertinent question. Even Lornis looked shaken by her bad manners, but she asked again. “Your lineal name, your specific lineage?”
“Pettaja-Viisi.” Nokka drew himself up to his full height, his mustache twitching.
Well, well. She was in the process of personally offending the second oldest and most powerful lineage in Tyrra, after the Meran-Viisi. The Royal Library had been formed to keep records of the Meran-Viisi and their rule of Tyrra. The librarian in charge would be the five star lineage, hence the tag of Viisi.
She pressed on. “You may think this trivial, a minor matter of the King’s Law, but it isn’t. Tell your matriarch that I will avoid reporting this to the magistrates, because this has become a lineal matter. My report will go straight to King Perinon and the Meran-Viisi. After that, it’s up to them.”
Even though five hundred years had passed, the Pettaja-Viisi had still failed in their duties to the Meran-Viisi King. Nokka’s face paled, and Draius figured he’d run directly to his matriarch when she left. As they walked away from the librarian, down the long center of the library, Lornis was quiet. She had a moment of regret; in retrospect, she could have been more politic. Regardless, it was done. She’d write the specifics up for Perinon and bypass the King’s Law magistrates, something the captain might not approve. As for Perinon, after seeing his reaction to the necromantic symbols, she doubted he’d let this alone.
“Officer Draius. May I presume?”
She started, abruptly pulled from her thoughts. The little man, identified as Taalo by Nokka, stepped out from the entrance alcove, as if he had been waiting for them.
The first word that came to mind when she looked at Taalo was gray. His eyes were blandly gray, his mustache and beard were gray, the unbraided fuzzy hair coming from his head was gray, and his skin was a dusty shade of gray, a parody of the fluid silver Meran coloring. He reminded her of the dust balls under the beds that Anja’s maid Maricie was forever battling.
“Yes?” She remembered her name had been used in the H&H, giving her notoriety of a sort, and Taalo could have easily overheard her conversation with the librarian.
“Can we help you?” Lornis asked.
Taalo’s mouth stretched, presumably in a smile, to reveal gray teeth. He bowed, and presented Draius with a card.
Draius gingerly took the card from his hand, avoiding his discolored fingertips. The card read, “Taalo, Apothecary, using the latest Scientific techniques of Chemistry, to be found at 62 Silta Street.”
“Greetings, Taalo.” She bowed quickly and handed the card to Lornis. “Do I have need of an apothecary?”
Frustration crossed Taalo’s face. He nodded his head toward the closed door in the library, toward the meeting room he had left. “I am forever trying to change the perception that Science is a gentlemanly pursuit of study with no practical purpose. I can make no progress with the Academy, who enjoy their useless and expensive experiments, but perhaps I can convince the City Guard.”
“Chemistry?” Lornis looked thoughtful. “You’ve abandoned the tenets of alchemy?”
“Of course, Officer. Pekon proved the transmutation of metals to be impossible in thirteen-forty-seven.” Taalo stretched his mouth again.
Lornis nodded. “Certainly he did, but not independently. The Phrenii were steering everyone away from the dangerous metal therapies of his day.”
Taalo’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no mention of the Phrenii in Pekon’s work, ser. Mankind forges our own progress forward.”
Lornis shrugged, perhaps wanting to continue, but Draius had more work to do this evening. She looked pointedly at the door, her escape from the strange little man. “Ser, are you offering advice?”
“I’m suggesting the City Guard has need of chemistry. Have you not run across mysterious items in your investigations? What if I could supply you with an analysis of such materials, an identification, perhaps?”
“I will consider your suggestion, Taalo.” She grabbed the card from Lornis and made a show of putting it in her pocket. “Good evening, ser.”
She pushed past the little man.
•••
They left their horses at the Guard stables and walked through the damp streets. It was dinner hour, when recently lit streetlights cast wavering shadows and there were few pedestrians about. They took a shortcut to City Guard Headquarters, going through a long, dark alley. Their footsteps echoed and Draius loosened her knife, just in case. Brandishing weapons, in a confident and competent manner, could frighten off thugs.
“Are you going to officially link the murders?” Lornis asked.
“I might as well, before the H&H does it for me,” she said. “I’ll talk to Andreas again, but this time I’ll be asking the questions.”
“You suspect his Society for the Restoration of Sorcery?”
“I think these murderers pretend to sorcery, even though it’s all a sham, so Andreas may know some likely suspects.” Her voice bounced off the smothering walls of the alley.
“He might be involved himself.”
She was about to reply when she heard the footfall at the alley opening behind them. She touched Lornis’s arm and he was alert enough to pull up against the wall right beside her. They stood absolutely still, shoulder to shoulder, with their backs against the wall. There were no more sounds at the end of the alley. After what seemed like a long stretch of time, she motioned to him and they moved on, but neither of them said anything more in the streets.
They stopped at the watch desk when they got to Headquarters, and asked about progress on Tellina. No family had been identified for the dead ship owner. Since he was Sareenian, contacting the matriarch for the lineage was out of the question. In searching Tellina’s home, the City Guard found no information regarding family members in the sister cities. They sent a notice of his death and a request for information to Illus, but it would be several days before any response arrived.
Once they were in the warmth and light of her office, Lornis mentioned the sound they heard in the alley. “Do you think we were being followed?”
“No. It was probably a cat, or worse, some rats.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it would be melodramatic to assume otherwise. I’ll ask Usko for last year’s cases.”
Usko was still in the outside office, and he gave Lornis a pile of files. Lornis worked quietly at the other desk in the inner office while Draius penned a note to Perinon. She called a messenger to carry it up to Betarr Serin. Then she wrote up her report on the Tellina crime scene, which she had Lornis verify.
He shook his head w
hile she read her report. After she finished, he said, “I wish I had your memory.”
“Sometimes it’s useful. But there are events I wish I didn’t remember with such clarity.”
“I never thought of the disadvantages.”
“Believe me, there are drawbacks. How’s the review going?” She gestured at the stacks on his desk.
“I think these are the legitimately closed cases from last year.” He pointed at the largest stack, to her relief. He handed her a small sheaf. “These three files, however, are reports you should probably read. They’re the robbery of the Royal Archive, and two reports from farmers.”
“Farmers?”
“They found their livestock gutted—with symbols painted on the ground with blood. Although the victims were animals, the madness is painfully familiar.”
“Not madness. They use method and precision,” she mused. “In both of our murders, the exact same fingers were missing. The victims were oriented with their heads pointed directly toward the middle of the circular symbols drawn on the walls, and their limbs were arranged in exactly the same configuration. The wounds down the torsos were precisely done with an extremely sharp knife, their intestines were pulled out in—”
She stopped as she saw Lornis’s face, his lip curling as he attempted a queasy smile. Perhaps she should focus on other details. “Two unmarked vials with powders were left at the first scene, but not the second. And what was on the parchment that disappeared from the first scene? No one’s turned it in, and it might be able to answer some of our questions as to why they murdered the councilman. The only thing we know for sure is they came prepared to perform their ceremony.”
“So the murders were ceremonies?”
“Someone wants us to believe that.” She tapped the desk pensively, then reached into her pocket, pulled out Taalo’s card and turned it over thoughtfully. “Perhaps they’re performing experiments, but we don’t recognize them as such?”
Lornis raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that little man can provide practical advice.”
She shrugged. She was now the OIC and if she wanted to try radical techniques, this would be the time. “Are you still here, Usko?” she called, thinking he’d gone home.
She was wrong. The clerk was quickly standing in the doorway, his face red. “Yes, ser?”
“Have you ever heard of this man?” She handed him the card.
She asked a simple enough question, but Usko stammered his answer. “N—no, not really. Well, yes—I’ve heard of him, but I don’t know him. He’s supposedly a good apothecary. What do you want from him, ser?”
“He says he can identify unknown materials. Have we heard of anyone else that would attempt this, at least in a methodical manner?” She looked at Usko and Lornis, who both shook their heads. This was new territory, indeed, for the City Guard.
“Then Taalo must be our choice. Usko, tomorrow you will take the two powders found at the councilman’s murder to this apothecary and commission him to do his analysis. We will pay him to identify these powders for us.”
“Are you sure, ser?” Usko wiped his glasses. “How much should we pay him?”
“The watch has informants. We have standard payments for information, don’t we? Why not pay this apothecary the same sort of fee?”
Usko left, after fussing about and neatening his workspace. Draius also got ready to leave, reaching for a packet on her desk which she hadn’t touched.
“You’re going to take the coroner’s report, perhaps as a little light reading before bed?” Lornis raised his eyebrows. “You are the right person for this job.”
She laughed as she turned off the gaslight and closed up the office. On the way out they said goodbye to the incoming watch, who were playing dice and waiting for their shift. Outside, she pulled her cloak tighter against the chilly spring night.
“Until tomorrow, then.” She faced Lornis.
Lornis laid his hands on her shoulders. She felt the warmth of his hands through the fabric of her clothes. He was about the same height as she was, so she looked straight into his face. She was suddenly intensely aware of him, his warm brown eyes, his shining cascade of hair, and exactly how close his chest, hips, and thighs were to hers.
“You look tired. You should try to get some sleep, rather than reading reports.” His hands squeezed her shoulders before he turned away.
She could only nod, astonished at her reaction. Then she slowly turned and walked the other way, smiling a little. As she rounded the street corner, a shadow moved away from the wall. She grabbed her knife hilt, and a hand clamped on her wrist to forestall her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
First Hireday, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471
This evening, my employer wanted me present when he met with the Groygan ambassador’s lackey.
We met him in a suitably neutral and neglected workshop in the port canal district, where the buildings loom close and the sea breeze can’t clear away the odors. Contrary to Betarr Serasa’s northern canals where the waters run clear, these are fetid, slow, and dark. Every now and then, debris bobs to the surface and one needs a strong stomach to investigate its nature, which explains why nobody hauls it out unless absolutely necessary. I remembered my poor apprentice and a spike of anger struck my temples. I rubbed my head and looked away from my employer, concentrating instead on Orze Be Lottagre, who was the first Groygan I’d ever met.
“I cannot help you, ser, if the DaniloAna’s captain took my advice and sailed for Chikirmo.” Lottagre smiled. He sounded as Tyrran as any five-star nobleman, instead of an “Honored Sword” for Groygan Ambassador Velenare Be Glotta. His eyes denounced him, however, with narrow pupils and irises that glinted and reflected light in the dark like an animal’s. That might only be Tyrran myth and I wondered what I could learn from dissecting those eyes. My fingers twitched, then stilled when he glanced at me.
“He took your gold, not your words, to heart. You bribed a shipmaster to violate the course he filed with the harbormaster.” My employer’s tone made me shiver. He was most dangerous when he was quiet.
Lottagre’s smile faded. “As embassy personnel, we cannot be charged under your King’s Law. Besides, you couldn’t accuse us without revealing your own crimes, which have been deliciously recounted in your Horn & Herald. So I’ll ask you—how soon before the City Guard is banging on your door?”
I watched Lottagre carefully, not quite convinced he was bluffing. The Groygans were more dangerous than I realized; how did they get their information?
“I’m more concerned with finding the ship than worrying about the City Guard,” my employer said. “More than five days have passed since the ship sailed and my contacts in Chikirmo report that the DaniloAna has not arrived. It appears we’ve both lost our money, as well as a powerful artifact.”
Lottagre’s eyes flashed at the mention of “contacts in Chikirmo,” but he didn’t say anything. He probably had the same reports within his embassy. A ship could sail from Betarr Serin to Chikirmo within three to four days during false-spring, when the winds are better for west-to-east sailing. By now the DaniloAna should have reached the city.
“What about pirates?” I asked, carefully watching Lottagre’s face. The H&H voiced the opinion of most Tyrran and Sareenian sailors: that the piracy committed by Rhobar about the Auberei Archipelago was actually privateering for Groyga. That archipelago, jutting into and violating the Angim, allows pirates to lie in waiting for honest cargo ships. Avoiding piracy was the main reason our group voted to send the lodestone to Illus.
Lottagre shook his head. “That galley carried a bombard of iron weighing several tons and the new centerline cannon was the best that gold can buy. The crew was well armed and if they had a modicum of competency, they could easily defend themselves against boarders. More likely, the crew betrayed you or the ship was blown off-course by storms. Perhaps she’s lost, gone to the bottom.”
That wasn’t what we wanted to hear. Navigational issues and storms were certainly pos
sible, of course, despite the distance the ship put between the lodestone and the phrenic elements. Another worry, which I couldn’t voice in front of the Groygan, was that we didn’t know the full extent of the lodestone’s powers. Being both a prison and amalgam of cursed souls, the lodestone itself might have taken action to affect its own fate.
Where is that ship?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Husbands, Lovers, and Maids
If our children are our lifeblood, then Tyrra’s life is draining away. Since the Fevers our pregnancies and live births have dropped. The Phrenii say they cannot make an infertile woman fertile again, but they can increase a man’s ability to father children. But sadly, no one will volunteer for phrenic healing, given the superstitions. So while our men avoid reality and indulge their passions, our women buy useless potions or powders, and we matriarchs frantically search our records for viable matches. Perhaps all that’s needed is time, but can Tyrra afford any delay?
—Entry in Meran-Viisi matriarchal records by Lady Aracia, T.Y. 1469
“Jan, what are you doing?” Draius tensed but didn’t draw her knife once she recognized her husband.
“I was going to ask you the same question.” He continued to tightly hold her wrist.
“Have you been following me?” She thought of the sounds in the alley and twisted her arm out of his grip.
“What were you doing with him?” Jan used a light, curious tone and wore his perpetually pleasant smile, but she could sense he wasn’t in a good mood.
“Lornis works for me, as you well know.”
“Are you going to take him as a lover?”
She gaped for a moment. He knew, quite well, how she felt about honoring the clauses in their marriage contract. He was attempting to sidetrack her. Collecting herself, she decided she was too tired to do anything but play by the same rules. “Are you judging me by your behavior? You know I’ll honor our contract, in the manner and intent it was written.”
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 9