Select slivers of power-bound flesh and an item possessed by the same source, such as a trinket or threads from clothing they wore.
Develop a recipe for the antithesis of charm’s effect. This charm will cause the direct opposite of healthy breath—so prepare the normal remedy for congested lungs: comfrey, calamint, liquorice, and hyssop, pulverized in a poultice.
Cover the flesh and belongings with vinegar in a retort. Distill off the vinegar, then take clear water and wash away all sharpness. Combine items with the poultice and wrap tightly together in a small pouch.
Pour a circle of fresh blood around the pouch. Ensure the circle is at least an arm-span across in diameter. Place the gemstones ruby, sapphire, emerald, and garnet on the circle at their respective positions of east, north, west, and south. The gems must be touched by blood. Now take the silver in aqua regis and carefully pour it over the circle of blood, while chanting the precise instructions.
The resulting charm performed admirably by asphyxiating a rat when it stepped outside its cage. Of course, this charm was given simple directives.
I then experimented with more abstract instructions, designing a charm to control the City Guard Officer who’s in charge of Investigation. I told my employer what I overheard in the library, but he still thinks he has her under control.
I disagree. She’s too close to the truth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Apothecary and the Editor
GROYGA THREATENS TO RECALL AMBASSADOR
The Groygan Lords have given an ultimatum to our King’s Council: reduce import taxes on Groygan silk or Ambassador Velenare Be Glotta will be recalled, thereby crippling all negotiation. The Council has no comment at this difficult time while they scramble to replace Councilman Meran-Nelja Reggis, who was our primary negotiator. Tension has been rising between our two countries and rumors of skirmishes near the Saamarin grow every day.
—The Horn & Herald, First Millday, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471
Mainos entered the room in front of Lornis. When he saw Draius standing in front of the open wardrobe, he tried to turn away. Lornis grabbed the bulky tavern keeper about the shoulders and kept him in place.
“Well, to think there was a door between the rooms,” Mainos said half-heartedly, with a little nervous laugh. His shoulders slumped and Lornis let him go.
Draius glared and Mainos added hastily, “I’ll be honest. I knew about it. Maybe, in bygone eras, it was used to fleece sleeping customers, but I’ve never used it for that. I swear by the Healing Horn! I forgot all about it.”
“Certainly you remembered it when the councilman was murdered?”
“Yes,” Mainos mumbled. Draius had to lean close to hear him. “I was worried about the reputation of the pub. Then, when the ‘magical murders’ started being touted by the H&H, I couldn’t say anything about it, you see? Besides, all that ballyhoo pulled in more customers.”
“You’ve got more to worry about than your reputation—do you know the penalty for keeping information from a Guard Officer? Did you think I wouldn’t find this door?” Draius almost sputtered. How stupid did Mainos think she was?
“There didn’t seem any need to bring it up. When everyone said the windows were locked tight and no one could escape, I figured the door didn’t matter.”
“We haven’t confirmed any of the windows were locked. Besides, it’s not up to you to determine relevance,” Draius said. “I’ll have to report this to the captain but I’ll ask him to keep it to a fine. How many of your staff knew about this door?”
“Not many,” protested Mainos.
“And Reggis?”
“Well, yes. He knew. He sometimes rented two rooms at a time; to separate business from pleasure, if you catch my drift.”
“What about Raivata?” Draius asked.
“No, she doesn’t know the rooms are connected.” Mainos’s voice was firm.
She wondered if she should tell him how much he’d underestimated his barmaid, to the extent that she’d copied or pilfered a master key,but it wasn’t relevant to her case—at least right now. She raised her index finger in warning, wagging it in front of the innkeeper’s sagging face. “I’m leaving Officer Lornis here to get the names of everyone who knew about the hidden door. He’ll be questioning them. We also need to know when Reggis ordered his wine, and who served it. Be sure to give him your full cooperation, Mainos.”
Draius put on her cloak. Below, the common room was starting to fill with customers for the late afternoon. Mainos looked like he wanted to be elsewhere while Lornis gave him a quiet lecture. Mainos’ face was starting to go white as she left.
She went through the common room quickly and walked around to the alley under the rooms. There were scuffs along the side of the building under the window to the third room, as would be left by the use of a ladder, although they could have been there before the murder.
A ladder could explain the quick exit made by the killers—she now considered the deed done by multiple people—as well as their unnoticed entrance. But the walls were thick and the windowsill deep; they couldn’t have easily climbed into the room without Reggis’s cooperation. He must have known his murderers, perhaps even expected them. Why did he let them into the room?
•••
Millday morning came and her staff still slogged through statements of witnesses. There were no sound suspects in sight, although Draius felt she knew the means behind the murders.
She decided to give Lornis a break, taking him with her to visit the apothecary. They found the neatly presented shop on Silta Street, with a sign that read Apothecary, Supplies & Analysis.
She pushed open the door, tinkling a bell that hung high on the frame. The inside of the shop was small, with only one counter. The place had a sharp caustic smell, a constant reminder that strange and dangerous compounds could be bought here. Shelves covered every wall from floor to ceiling, containing pouches and small stoneware jars covered with parchment. All the items on the shelves were labeled and organized with precision, almost obsession.
Taalo stood at the counter, marking something on a package.
“Ah, the work for the Office of Investigation. Right this way.” Taalo went through the curtain behind the counter, and they followed.
The laboratory was larger than the storefront. It was also warmer, thanks to a small kiln roaring on one wall. Samples were set near the chimney to keep warm. The apothecary probably used the kiln for making custom glassware; many examples could be seen on a long narrow counter nearby.
Draius stopped by a rounded flask with a long thin neck that went up for an arm’s length before it curved down into a gentle slope to rest in a smaller flask. The little apothecary paused beside her.
“An alembic,” Taalo said, as if that explained everything. “I’m doing a distillation, searching for a particular oil. I once created a jellylike oil and found it particularly explosive. If I can isolate it again, it will change our entire society.” His voice grew pompous. “It will be able to propel projectiles with more speed and force than the best corned powder.”
Lornis looked at the little man doubtfully.
“I haven’t perfected the process yet,” Taalo said.
“But if distillation won’t separate the oil, then it suffered a character change and must be lost,” Lornis said.
The apothecary raised his gray eyebrows. “You have training?”
“My grandfather was an alchemist, and I assisted him for a while. When Pekon disproved the transmutation of metals, my grandfather took the title of Chemist.”
“The Academy of Science refused my petition to use that title. Those of us with practical experience aren’t considered worthy of it, so your grandfather must have been lucky.” The apothecary’s tone was spiteful.
“My grandfather is Kulte-Kolme.” Lornis acted like his non sequitur explained everything.
The apothecary looked impressed. “Precious metal refining?”
“Yes, I have a little backgro
und, at least enough to know when someone’s trying to flummox me.”
Taalo looked a bit sheepish. “Well, I’m missing something, perhaps a thaumaturgic constituent.” His expression turned eager. “As Kulte-Kolme, did you meet the great Pekon?”
“Yes, although we didn’t call him great. He and my grandfather were cousins. Pekon was considered radical and at the time, we all hoped to transmute less noble metals to silver and gold.”
“How would you describe him?”
“Can we speak about the analysis?” Draius asked. By her left elbow, a strange-smelling liquid was starting to a boil. The whole building might blow sky high before she got her information.
“Of course.” Taalo’s mouth stretched. “The black powder you sent me was a poison, and it quickly killed the mouse I fed it to. Poor thing.” He gestured toward the far wall, which held cages of small animals and rodents, lined up by cage size.
“Can you tell what sort of poison?” Draius asked.
“Wolfsbane.” Taalo handed her the vial with the original powder. “It can be deadly when prepared properly, using the root of a plant that grows on the slopes of the Cen Cerinas.”
“How did you identify it by this powder?” Draius held up the vial and tilted it, looking at the finely ground grains.
“By something of my own invention.” Taalo held up a square wire frame over which was stretched an almost transparent paper. When Draius reached to touch it, he pulled it back quickly.
“No, don’t touch! Your fingers will contaminate it with oils. This is a fine linen paper made specially for me.” His own fingers were permanently discolored and of questionable cleanliness, but she didn’t point this out.
Taalo showed her another stretched square that hung vertically over a shallow bath of liquid. The fluid barely touched the bottom of the paper, and was slowly seeping upwards. Above the level of the liquid, there was a horizontal row of little black dots on the paper.
“See those black dots? Those are samples I dissolved in spirits and placed on the paper. The solution in the bath is absorbed vertically up the parchment, and it moves parts of the samples with it. Different plants make different patterns, according to their personality. See, here is your powder beside my sample of wolfbane.” He produced a dried paper square showing two identical streaks, each having four blotches of the same shape and color.
She was impressed. “Were you able to do this with the other powder also?”
Taalo hesitated. “No,” he said, using a glum tone. He went over to the shelf and took down another square of stretched paper. On it was one long wide smear.
“Why didn’t it work?”
“I don’t know. Certain materials may lack the personality for this analysis.” He brightened. “But I’m fairly sure the second sample is dried, crushed Rowan flowers.”
“Why?” Lornis asked.
“Other properties. It smells like Rowan flowers and it’s not poisonous. I’ve written up my analysis, as specified in the work contract.”
“Well done,” Draius said. “The City Guard will pay your fee.”
As she filled out a bank draft with the City Guard seal upon it, she wondered whether this information really had any value. After all, Norsis already concluded that Reggis had been poisoned before his body was mutilated. She handed the draft to Taalo, and started walking out of the laboratory. As she came near the door, she saw a wide cauldron that had a flat mirror set inside.
She stopped and leaned over the cauldron, looking at the mirror. Her image was clear, but quivered. As she watched, her head faded and blurred while at the central part of the mirror, a bright green jewel came into detail. It seemed to be hanging from her neck. So this wasn’t a mirror because she wasn’t wearing—the surface rippled violently and she jumped back.
Taalo had jiggled the cauldron, and now plunged his hand through the mirror. It looked like a molten metal, yet it wasn’t hot. The ripples extended from his hand as he moved it through the shimmering liquid.
“Don’t get close to the quicksilver and breathe the fumes,” he said. “It might bring on visions or madness.”
Draius felt a flush of embarrassment, and tried to compose herself. She turned on the little apothecary. “Would either of those powders be of use in the art of necromancy?”
Taalo looked surprised. Then his mouth stretched and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. “What interest would you have in the archaic and illegal practice of necromancy, Officer?”
“Answer my question.”
Taalo looked down at the quicksilver and studied it for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes glinted. “I sell dried Rowan flowers as protection from necromantic spells. Some of my customers are superstitious and believe the art is still practiced.”
Draius exchanged a look with Lornis. When she turned back to Taalo, he was over in the corner going through a trunk, humming tunelessly. He held up a small pouch on a leather string and walked back to her.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I see danger ahead for you.” Taalo cocked his head with almost a pleading expression. “I want to give you a charm for protection.”
Taalo reached to put the pouch around her neck but she pulled back. A wounded expression crossed his face, making her feel guilty. It couldn’t hurt to humor the little man, could it?
“I’m not one of your customers,” she said.
“A charm may be sung, a charm may be said, but most powerful of all, a charm need be made. So I sing a charm for Draius.” Taalo used a high dreamy voice as he reached to put the pouch around her neck and this time she let him tie it. It settled on her breastbone. She’d take it off outside, away from his view. “What’s in—”
“San klamek. Never, never look. Never, never see.” Taalo giggled and snapped his fingers.
Draius shook her head. The room felt stuffy; maybe she had breathed in some of the quicksilver fumes. She looked at Lornis, whose brows were knotted as if he had a headache. “What were you saying?”
Lornis shrugged.
“You asked me what purpose the quicksilver had, Officer.” Taalo pulled aside the curtain to the storefront and gestured for them to precede him. “Those with the Sight believe it can focus their talent. Again, deep-seated folklore that has never been proven.”
Outside the shop, the air was still chilly and the spring sun tried to burn through the clouds.
“What a strange little man,” Lornis said.
“I agree.” She made a dismissive gesture, as the memory of Taalo’s face slipped away like silk falling through her fingers. “I didn’t know you were Kulte-Kolme.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t intended to be a goldsmith. Shall we make that visit to Andreas, as you promised?” Lornis turned and ran gracefully beside the street, his arm up to hail a passing carriage. He had a catlike energy about him, reminding her of a predatory hunter coiled to spring.
The Kulte-Kolme was a long-established and wealthy lineage that owned most of the gold mines in the central and northern Tyrran plains. They had a reputation for being reliable and were not known for taking risks. Some might call them stodgy. Draius had once seen their matriarch, Kulte-Kolme Enkali, and she could imagine the matriarch’s bewilderment when trying to place Lornis. The conservative matriarch must have been at her wit’s end to figure out what to do with him—especially if he was cursed by a destiny.
“What are you smiling about?” Lornis asked when she climbed into the carriage.
“Oh, nothing.” She knocked to tell the driver to proceed. “To the Offices of the H&H, please.”
•••
Andreas proved uncooperative. Draius expected some obstinacy, but not this much protest.
“I can assure you that each and every member of the Society for the Restoration of Sorcery is a law abiding citizen. Some are quite respectable, in fact.” Andreas pushed his dark hair, mussed and unkempt, away from his eyes. With his rumpled sleeves and stained vest, he had the look of a man too preoccupied by the world�
��s woes to take concern with his appearance, or to answer questions from annoying Guard officers.
“I hope you won’t mind if I check your membership myself,” she said.
“Actually, I do mind. My word should be good enough.”
“And your word is based on your Honor?”
Andreas didn’t answer her jibe. He sat back down at his neat and tidy desk, a surprising contrast to his appearance. Draius stood directly in front of him, her arms crossed and her long legs spread in an aggressive stance. Behind her, Lornis leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe, effectively blocking the way out. Not intimidated by their tactics, Andreas smugly smiled.
She tried a different approach. “What about Councilman Reggis?”
“What about him?”
“Was he ever a member of your S—R—S?” She knew he didn’t like the acronym given to his society.
Andreas hesitated. “Yes, he came to a few meetings. Then he never came back.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
She stepped forward so quickly that Andreas jerked back in his chair. She thumped her hands down on the desk, and leaned over so far she crowded him backwards.
“And I don’t have to take your insolence. This is a murder investigation and I can have you before a king’s magistrate in minutes. By the Horn, I can drag you before the King! So don’t make me angry.” Her voice was low, almost rasping. She towered over the rotund editor.
“You can’t threaten me!” His eyes darted about to light on Lornis, who was examining his fingernails with interest.
There was a moment of silence while the editor squirmed.
“Okay, okay. Back down, Officer.” His voice wavered. “I guess there’s no reason not to tell the Guard. He wasn’t really a member of our Society.”
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 12