by CJ Brightley
“Besides,” Karl continued, “my latest story is about a cursed diamond that can trap your soul. No lovers of any kind.”
Karl and Jens-Peter continued to argue about the need for happiness in fiction, with Jochim weaving around them, picking up things from the shelves and looking at them with complete, if drunken, absorption. Dominic wondered what the fascination was. It looked like junk to him. He glanced at the contents of the shelf nearest him, and amended that to magical junk.
Dominic looked around for Markus. The door opened, and Dieter and a tall man came in, snow dusting their coats.
“Hans won’t be coming,” Dieter told Wolfgang Mauer over the noise of everyone greeting the new arrivals. “His friend came off the worse in a duel a few hours ago and is not expected to live. I just found out.”
“A duel!” Stefan got up from his unconventional seat, a stack of books on one of the beds. “Who was it? Who did he fight?”
Dieter shrugged. “I didn’t hear. I only know it was a duel, and he’s badly hurt.”
“There’ve been an awful lot of duels at the Kriegsa lately,” Wolfgang observed, and took a deep drink. “What’s going on, Ermut?” This was addressed to the tall man, who had a definite resemblance to Stefan Arendt. This must be the brother at the Kriegszauberkollegium.
“I don’t know everything that happens there,” Ermut said good-naturedly. “I work more than I listen to gossip. Now that you mention it, though, we’ve had some unexpected deaths in the ranks of the juniors. None of my friends, but people I knew. It could have been duels, I suppose, but they would try to hide that. It’s not like it used to be. You can get in a lot of trouble dueling.”
Not to mention dead, thought Dominic. Curious, but not what they were interested in. He went over to Dieter, who was loading up a thick slab of bread with mustard and beef as best he could with one hand. Small ice crystals were slowly melting in his thick blond hair. For such a thin man, he had a tremendous appetite.
“Oh, good! You were able to come after all,” Dieter said, just before attacking his sandwich.
“Yes, we were able to find a safe route,” Dominic replied. “What is all the trouble about, anyway? Is there a rebellion?”
Dieter swallowed his mouthful with a blissful smile, then shrugged. “Might be one, if they don’t stop the bodies showing up. I forgot, you haven’t been in Baerlen that long. They’re probably trying to keep it out of the papers, too. About three months ago, a dead body was found outside the gates of the Closure. Poor fellow’s throat had been cut. Not a drop of blood in him, which was strange since no blood was anywhere around him either. A few weeks later, another one showed up, same place, same condition. This is the sixth so far, and the police have not found the culprit. People are getting angry, and they think the Adarans are to blame.”
Dominic glanced at Jochim, suddenly understanding his fear and worry, now drowned in drink. He was Adaran, and dared not go out in the street for fear of the mob. Jochim had worked his way around the room and was now examining some of the strange objects on the corner shelves.
“Did anyone come and talk to you about what happened in Siebert’s lab?” Dominic asked.
“Well, there was this rather unpleasant fellow who came and warned us to say nothing,” Dieter said, looking doubtful. “I suppose I can tell you about it, since you found the damn thing. He didn’t ask me questions. Just took away all the wreckage and the designs. Well, he did ask if I had been there the previous afternoon, when the Professor had his visitor, but when I said I hadn’t he had no further interest in me. He wouldn’t tell me anything, either. He’s not going to find out who killed Professor Siebert,” he added angrily.
A shimmer of magic from the corner of his eye told him Ardhuin had come up to join the conversation. “Did he just say he had not been questioned?” she asked, in Gaulan.
“That is what he said. It is very strange,” Dominic replied.
“It was deliberate sabotage! Can’t they be bothered to try and find out who did it?”
“You appear to be familiar with this,” Dieter said in heavily accented Gaulan, looking worried. “You are perhaps the mage Herr Kermarec has spoken of working with?”
“Er, yes. That is, we have worked together before. I am very much concerned with what happened to Professor Siebert.” Now Markus had joined the conversation as well, overhearing the name.
“We should be discreet,” he said softly, glancing about the room.
Now Dieter was showing signs of distress. “We were warned…most strongly. To say nothing.” He stared at Ardhuin. “You said sabotage. You know, then? And you?” Markus smiled. “I don’t understand why they told us to be silent, if everybody knows about it.”
“Not quite everybody. Yet.” Markus sighed. “You know, this makes me a trifle concerned. What if the, ah, instigators decide to clean up lose ends? That means you,” he added with a grin to Dieter.
“This is your idea of discretion?” Ardhuin said, her eyes wide.
“It can’t be too bad,” Dominic said, noticing who was still present at the party. “The only ones here who don’t know anything are Karl, Arne, and Stefan’s brother, and he works at the Kriegszauberkollegium.”
“Karl and Arne are all right,” Dieter said immediately. “They can keep their mouths shut if it’s important.”
“The Council has made no real effort to investigate, so I will have little patience with any complaints about our attempt,” Ardhuin said, folding her arms. “So, what is this about a military magician visiting Siebert before the accident?”
“He came while I was away,” Dieter said, looking confused. “Siebert told me about him, just before he went back to the work area and…and it happened. I almost missed it. I was in early that day.”
“So you didn’t see him? Did Siebert describe him to you?” Markus asked.
Dieter thought for a moment. “Said he seemed to know what he was talking about, which would be unusual where Siebert’s work was concerned. Asked intelligent questions.”
“Is that it?” Dominic couldn’t help asking. “It doesn’t narrow down the field very much.”
“It narrows it completely,” Markus said with a sardonic smile. “Intelligent questions? Such a person does not exist in the entire Kriegszauberkollegium.”
Jochim had managed to pick up a large chunk of a slightly silvery, glassy material. It appeared to be heavy and awkward, and there was a tense moment while Jochim struggled to hold it and his stein, finally solving the problem by balancing the chunk on the stein’s mouth and holding the stein with both hands. Jochim lifted it up to the light, and then at various things around the room. For some reason, Ardhuin’s illusioned form held a special fascination to him.
“There must be something more you remember,” she was saying to Dieter. “Did Siebert mention his unusual height? Noticeable limp? Pet parrot?”
Dieter grinned. “If he left his calling card, it must have burned up in the explosion. Let me think—”
Now Jochim was looking at Ardhuin through the glassy lump, then without it. His jaw was hanging open. Dominic felt a cold stab of fear, and quickly stepped between her and Jochim.
“Who’s th’ lady?” said a bewildered Jochim. “Is she in here?” He peered at the lump suspiciously.
“Let me look,” Dominic offered, walking quickly over and taking it away. The view was distorted by the rough surface of the glass, but he could see enough. The illusion was just a nebulous cloud around the very clear vision of Ardhuin. “I don’t see anything,” he lied, firmly retaining his grasp of the thing. Jochim blinked, looking confused, then continued his investigation of the shelves with a huge yawn.
“What is this?” Dominic asked Wolfgang Maurer, hefting the chunk of glass in his hand.
“Oh, that’s something Arne was given. He has a relative who is a chryselectrum maker—I don’t know exactly what it is, but magicians use it. That was a defective batch, but he keeps it as a curiosity.”
Well. It w
asn’t completely silvery, like chryselectrum ought to be. He could see through it. Evidently it blocked enough of the magical effects—what had Ardhuin said? It shaped magical fields. This appeared to shape the magic away from the eye.
“Curious,” he said, and put it back on a shelf, hiding it behind a battered brass telescope. He should warn Ardhuin, but how could he in the crowded room? Besides, they hadn’t gotten what they came for yet, and nobody was paying any attention to what Jochim was saying since he was clearly the worse for drink. Hopefully he would forget his dangerous vision, or at least not understand what it meant.
Dieter’s forehead was still wrinkled with effort, trying to remember. “Well, the Professor did mention the Kollegium must at least pay the senior members well. I didn’t understand why, exactly. Something about a bazaar ring, which makes no sense.”
Markus looked up sharply. “Was it perhaps, instead…a bezoar ring?”
“Oh.” Dieter gave a slow nod. “Yes, I think you are right. I thought it sounded strange. What’s that?”
“A very rare and extremely expensive stone with magical properties. It is found in the skulls of a species of toad that seeks thaumatic influences.” Markus had a very grim expression on his face. “It is so rare, I have only seen one. It was in a ring worn by the second-most powerful mage of the Kollegium. Horst von Stangen.”
“That must be him, then,” Dominic observed.
Markus grimaced. “There is one slight difficulty. Von Stangen was not in Baerlen when the explosion took place.”
“If he were planning an assassination, he would take pains to conceal his true location,” Ardhuin said dryly. “Perhaps he forgot his gloves and came back for them, pausing to visit Professor Siebert on the way. How can we find out the truth of the matter?”
“Ermut might have an idea,” Dieter said around the last bite of sandwich before turning and shouting, “Hey, Ermut!”
Dominic felt a tug at his elbow. Markus was urging him and Ardhuin back into a corner, a little further away from the general conversation. “This is not a good idea,” he said, his voice low and tense. “You know the dangers. Why do you risk everything with these well-intentioned but ignorant students? How do we know we can trust them?”
“We don’t,” Ardhuin said softly, after a long pause. “But what choice do we have? It’s pretty clear we can’t trust the Council. They’re trying to cover this up. How else are we to find what we need to know?”
Markus sighed, shaking his head, but before he could say anything more a voice intruded.
“Von Stangen? I try to stay away from him as much as possible,” Ermut Arendt was saying. “Why do you want to know about him?”
“I don’t, they do,” Dieter said, pointing. “They think he was Siebert’s mysterious visitor.”
“Oh.” Ermut looked at Dominic and Ardhuin, puzzled. “Your pardon, but…I don’t understand why foreigners are involved in this. That is, my superiors would definitely not understand why foreigners were involved, or why I would be talking to them about any of this. I mean no offense.”
“I am going to regret this,” muttered Markus, reaching into a coat pocket. The object he held was shielded by illusion until he dropped it into Ermut’s hand. As soon as Ermut saw what it was, he gasped and closed his hand around it, returning it to Markus.
“I was sure you were…I thought I had seen you around the Kriegsa. I must have confused you with someone else.”
Ardhuin coughed. “You may well have seen someone like him. His appearance is…borrowed for the occasion.”
Ermut gave a low whistle. “Ausgezeichnet! I had no idea that the…those like you paid much attention to concealment. Well, I thought you had very good control just now to hide your badge, but—”
Markus looked like he was going to object, but Ardhuin shook her head at him with a slight smile, and he subsided. “Yes, we have a number of secrets we choose not to share with the world. Now, about von Stangen….”
“He’s very political,” Ermut said, his brow wrinkling. “He takes offense easily, too. Most find it easier to simply stay out of his way. If you want to ask questions about him, I would suggest his aide, instead: Lars von Gerling.”
“Where does von Gerling live?” asked Ardhuin.
“If he isn’t married, he’d be in the Kriegsa barracks,” observed Markus.
Dominic was distracted by the sound of Jochim’s voice, growing louder and more insistent by the minute.
“It was a lady! Inna crystal. Show you!” He got up from the ratty armchair he had been sitting in and swayed on his feet, ignoring Arne’s efforts to get him to sit down again.
“Why don’t you let me find this crystal,” Arne said in a soothing voice. He glared at Kurt. “It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t been telling your fairy tales he would never have gotten the idea. Possessed diamonds, is it?”
Arne wasn’t drunk. If he found the chunk of flawed chryselectrum, Ardhuin’s illusion would be uncovered.
“Why don’t we go and see this aide?” Dominic suggested quickly.
Ermut frowned. “Could it not wait for morning? Oh, I suppose this would cause less official notice.”
“Yes. Exactly. Let’s go now, before it gets too late,” Dominic said, trying to urge the others with grimaces and nudges.
Ardhuin and Markus picked up on his signals readily, but now the others were causing delay. Wolfgang Maurer objected they were leaving too soon. Dieter wanted to accompany them. Dominic felt the tension in his body increase. Arne was searching the shelves now for Jochim’s crystal. He should have thrown the damn thing in the stove.
“It won’t take long,” Stefan consoled Wolfgang, who looked depressed. “We’ll be back, as long as you don’t let Jochim drink all the beer.”
Out the door, finally, and Dominic did not bother to object to how many were going with them. Just as the door closed behind them he heard Arne’s voice saying, “Oh, here it is, Jochim. Show me the lady!”
Ardhuin sighed. She had really only exchanged one problem for another. Her skirts were held up now, but that meant she could feel every icy breeze on her ankles. If illusioned adventures were going to be a habit, she needed to devise an alternate costume.
“Where’s Gutrune?” she whispered to Dominic, walking beside her. It had been decided the destination was close enough they could go on foot. She suspected the students were mostly interested in saving money on cab fare.
“Following in the cart,” he whispered back. “She knows where we are going.”
It wouldn’t be that hard to track them. The streets were almost empty, and they were the only large group she’d seen. Besides herself, Dominic, and Markus Asgaya, four of the others had decided to come along. She had expected Stefan to accompany his brother, and Dieter seemed to have a slow, burning grudge against whoever had killed his professor, but Jens-Peter had joined them purely for the fun of adventure.
It was strange. At first, meeting so many strangers at once had terrified her, but now she liked them all. If it weren’t for the danger hanging over her (and the cold, she had to admit) she would be enjoying the adventure too.
She glanced at Dominic. He’d been unusually insistent on leaving, and she could tell he was worried about something. Now, however, he looked much more relaxed.
A gust of wind, bitterly cold, rushed down the street. Ardhuin shivered and wished for Gutrune’s thick fur muff, or at least some good wool socks. She was sure her nose was red—her real nose. The illusion wouldn’t change.
Stefan’s brother Ermut was in the lead. He turned to them, saying, “We can take this street, it’s more direct.”
“But the barracks entrance is on the other side,” objected Markus.
“Von Gerling rated quarters with a private entrance,” Ermut said with an expressive grimace. “Important aide, don’t you know. In fact, he—”
A shout came from up ahead, and the sound of running feet. In the pool of light from a philogiston lamp Ardhuin saw a man, his coll
ar askew and his coat torn, running with a desperation born of fear. He turned to look behind him and tripped on an uneven cobblestone, landing hard with a grunt of pain.
His pursuers were now visible, a crowd of men with crude weapons in their hands.
“Get back, out of sight!” Markus was in front of her, dragging her by main force into a doorway.
“They’re going to kill him!” she protested.
“My instructions only specify preventing anyone from killing you,” Markus snapped. “Kindly note the lead thug has a large iron chain, and there are far more of them than us. If they see us we’ll be in trouble. I can’t handle that many. Can you?”
Fully rested, she could. But it wouldn’t be pleasant, since the only spells that would work were very destructive. Right now she wasn’t sure she could do anything, and if she failed, they would all be in danger.
The man had scrambled to his feet, but the crowd had caught up with him and he was soon on the ground again. The man with the iron chain kicked him hard, yelling “Schmutziger Adarar!”
There had to be something she could do, even as weak as she was. They were going to kill that man right in front of her. Desperately, she ran through the spells her great-uncle had taught her, trying to find something that would work. Spells of power, of control—perhaps a distension of the cobblestones to make a protective shell?
“Close your eyes!” Stefan said in an urgent whisper. Ardhuin did, just in time. A flash of light so intense it leaked through her eyelids burst over the mob. A chorus of screams and moans forced her eyes open again. The man with the chain was clawing at his face and stumbling blindly away, as were the rest of them. Their victim was left lying in the street, curled up and moaning. Stefan and Jens-Peter darted out and carried the man to safety in the dark doorway.
Ardhuin couldn’t follow the rapid Preusan conversation that followed. The man was grateful, but still terrified. Blood streaked his face from a cut on his head.