by Jasmine Walt
Barrla froze. “Killed? What do you mean, killed?”
“A group of thugs who might be former Resistance members jumped Fenris today,” I said, guiding Barrla to a chair. “Solantha is a beautiful city, but if there truly is a plot to strike against the government, it definitely isn’t safe right now.”
“Hmph.” Barrla crossed her legs as I boiled some hot water in the steampot and dug up a tea bag from the box of assorted teas provided by the hotel. “It may be dangerous, but that’s even more of a reason for me to come out here. You are my friends, and you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. I’m not some shrinking violet.”
Fenris and I exchanged a look. “This isn’t like one of your adventure romances,” he said to Barrla. “This may well lead to real bloodshed and death.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be useful,” Barrla insisted. “I used all my savings to come out here by air—you’re not turning me away after I’ve only just arrived.”
“Of course not,” I said as I handed her the cup of steaming tea. “But don’t be too angry with Marris, Barrla. He is infiltrating a group of terrorists, and since you are not a former Resistance member, you would only make things harder for him. He is relatively safe on his own since they know and trust him, but once they battle the mages, things could get very ugly. We are here to prevent that from happening.”
“Yes, and I will help you,” Barrla declared. When Fenris looked like he wanted to object, she said, “What is the point of making me a member of the League of Justice if I’m not allowed to participate?”
I sighed. “Fenris and I are…better equipped to deal with this than you.”
Barrla glared daggers at me. “And how is that, exactly?”
I bit my lip and glanced at Fenris, who dipped his chin. “You may as well tell her, since Marris knows,” he said in mindspeak.
I turned back to Barrla. “Fenris and I can both use magic. I was born to a mage family, and Fenris has mage ancestors in his family tree too.”
Barrla’s jaw dropped. “You’re pulling my leg. Mages? But isn’t he a shifter?”
Fenris smiled wryly, then conjured a ball of light in his hand. “There is a reason I moved away from civilization,” he said. “I’m not like Mina, but I have enough magic to make the mages uncomfortable if they knew about it. And shifters as well,” he added ruefully.
“This is just like The Mage’s Secret,” Barrla said, shaking her head. “It’s a romance between a mage and a shifter. Why didn’t you tell me about this, Mina?” She sounded upset. “I know that everybody calls me a gossip, but I am capable of keeping secrets. You could have trusted me.”
My insides squirmed with guilt at the hurt look on Barrla’s face. “I’m sorry,” I said, crouching down in front of her so I could look her in the eye. “I know now that I could have trusted you, but you have to understand that after hiding my true identity for over a decade, it had just become second nature. I didn’t trust anyone with the truth, not even Fenris. He found out by accident. I came to Abbsville because I was running away from my abusive family, and I had to pretend I was a human so that they wouldn’t find me.”
Barrla stared. “Abusive? Like they hit you?” Her brows creased in confusion. “That happens in mage families, too?”
“Yes, unfortunately. We are not that different, really, and every evil you find among humans will also occur among mages here and there.” I gave her a bitter smile. “That’s all over now, though—Fenris and I went back to my hometown last month. We successfully claimed the inheritance my relatives had stolen from me, and I took my family name back. There isn’t really any reason for me to hide anymore…but after pretending to be human for so long, I was nervous about your reaction,” I admitted, looking down. “I’m truly sorry, Barrla.”
There was a long silence while she mulled things over, and with each second that passed, I grew more nervous. Had I made a mistake?
But at last Barrla exhaled, and a tiny smile returned to her expressive face. “I can’t exactly blame you for being afraid to confess to being a mage,” she said, patting my shoulder. “Especially after what Roor and his mother tried to do to you. No wonder you were so terrified about that whole thing! I promise I won’t tell anyone in Abbsville about this when we return. You can trust me, Mina.”
I smiled at her. “I know,” I said, and gave Barrla a hug. “You’re a better friend than I deserve. I’ve felt guilty about deceiving you, and I won’t do so again. But what people in Abbsville think or say about me doesn’t really matter now. I probably won’t be staying there for much longer.”
As I said the words, I felt a little pang—I would miss my friends, the book club, the little surgery I’d only just begun to set up in Fenris’s house. But I had a whole new life ahead of me, with endless possibilities. I couldn’t turn away from that just because I was a little afraid.
“That makes sense, if you’re rich now,” Barrla said. “I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life in the countryside either—I want to see the world and go on adventures, like you and Fenris are doing. And with any luck, I’ll have a handsome man at my side…though if Marris doesn’t apologize on bended knees, it will have to be someone else,” she added with a militant gleam in her eyes. Clearly, her anger was still running hot. I wasn’t truly worried for Marris—Barrla could never hold a grudge for long. If Marris played his cards right, I was sure she would ultimately forgive him.
We talked for a few more minutes until dinner arrived—we’d ordered another meal for Barrla, who was hungry after her long trip. While we ate, I arranged for Barrla to take the room I’d rented for Marris. After we’d finished dinner, she left us, and Fenris and I slipped into bed. The exhaustion I’d been holding at bay finally hit me, and I fell asleep almost immediately. We had a long day ahead of us tomorrow and needed all the rest we could get.
9
Mina
The next morning, the three of us met downstairs for breakfast and discussed our plans for the day. The weather was somewhat blustery and half overcast, but that didn’t stifle our excitement. Barrla confidently ordered a substantial breakfast from the waiter, completely undaunted by the rich surroundings and snooty staff. She was agog at seeing Fenris without his shifter eyes and thrilled that she was finally participating in a real-life “operation.” When I mentioned I was pretending to be a journalist, she suggested posing as my photographer, which would add credibility to my role. Together we would infiltrate the Solantha Press Club and see what we could uncover.
“I’ve taken photographs a time or two,” Barrla said, “but never with a professional camera. I can say I’m new at this job if anyone notices me fumbling, but it would be best to look like a pro, if possible. Do you think we’ll have time to practice?”
“We can snap a few photographs of city scenes if you want, before we get there,” I said with a smile. I had no doubt that Barrla would take far more than a “few” pictures with the fancy new camera we were going to buy. It would be good for her to get a bit of practice with the equipment, especially since we were going to be spending some real money on it. If we stumbled upon anything that could constitute proof of a rebellion, photographic evidence might be a good thing to have.
We were just about to leave when Mirrine, the Forrane journalist I’d met the other night, came up to us. “Good morning,” she said, looking as elegant as ever in another fitted suit, this one cream with black piping, and a pert little hat to match. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I wondered if you were heading to Solantha this morning. I have an important appointment, and the car I ordered to pick me up broke down on the way here.”
“Of course,” Fenris said with a faint smile. “We would love to have your company, madame—there is plenty of space in our steamcar.”
“You didn’t tell me you already made a new friend, Mina,” Barrla said, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked Mirrine up and down. I could tell that Barrla was impressed—Mirrine was the epitome of a worldly, confident woma
n, exactly the type Barrla aspired to be.
“Yes, we just met the other night,” I said. “Mirrine, this is my good friend Barrla. She lives nearby and decided to come and see us while we were in this part of the Federation.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Mirrine raised her eyebrows, and I knew what she was thinking—Barrla was not a mage, but we were. But she didn’t say anything about it, for which I was grateful. “Shall we get going, then?”
Fenris had the car brought around, and we sat in the front while Mirrine and Barrla settled themselves in the back. Having Mirrine around would put a crimp on what the three of us could discuss, but at least Fenris and I could still use mindspeak.
As we drove, Barrla began an artless conversation with our passenger. I winced at some of the more pointed questions, which were not entirely polite, but Mirrine handled them easily enough and didn’t seem offended.
“Are you going into town to see a beau?” she asked Mirrine. “A woman like you must have many admirers.”
“I do like men,” Mirrine said with a cat-like smile. “But I find they are best enjoyed briefly and then discarded before they lose interest themselves.”
“But what about marriage?” Barrla asked, sounding shocked, and even I had to admit I was surprised by Mirrine’s cavalier attitude. “Don’t mages consider that to be sacred?”
Mirrine laughed. “In theory, yes,” she said, “but not all of us practice what we preach. Marriage can be a trap when you live as long as we do. You should be glad that you are human and will only have to live out a single century with whomever you choose to marry. Humans are even allowed to divorce in the Federation, aren’t they? Most likely by the time the two of you have grown tired of each other, you will have lost your sexual appetites anyway. And you certainly will not have to involve yourself with selfish, calculating mages. As lovers or husbands, they are not worth troubling with.”
“We are not all so selfish,” Fenris said coolly, and I hid a smile—he was clearly offended by this wholesale condemnation.
“No,” Mirrine said lightly, “perhaps not. But I find there are just as many bad apples as there are good in the barrel.”
I took Fenris’s hand before he could retort. “She doesn’t know you,” I told him in mindspeak. “You are a good man, and one of the most selfless people I know.”
Fenris relaxed. “Your new friend must be speaking from personal experience,” he said. “I wonder who left her so embittered.”
“Must have been her own husband—surely she had one at some point,” I said, glancing at Mirrine in the rearview mirror. If two mages married for life did not love, and eventually came to hate each other, I could see how that could lead to searing anger and rampant infidelity. I could imagine all too easily how Mirrine might have been chained to an unfaithful spouse.
Fenris dropped Barrla and me off in maintown, then continued on to the Mages Quarter. He would take Mirrine to her destination, then sneak into the palace disguised as a servant to try and find out what Iannis and Sunaya were up to and how soon they were expected back.
In the meantime, Barrla and I went to a camera shop and selected a first-rate camera plus a whole bagful of accessories—mostly very expensive lenses and many different rolls of unexposed film. By the time we tallied everything up, I’d spent enough to buy a small steamcar.
“Oh, this is so lovely,” Barrla said as we walked around with our new equipment. She took some pictures of pigeons feeding from a fountain, a family promenading with four children and a dog, and several townhouses she found interesting. “I can’t wait to see how these turn out once they’ve been developed.”
I laughed. “I suppose we’ll have to add ‘learn to develop film’ to our list of things to do.”
After half an hour, Barrla declared she felt comfortable enough to carry off her role, and we took a cab to the Solantha Press Club. It turned out to be only eight blocks away, but since I hadn’t known which way to go it had seemed easier to let the cab driver take us.
The Solantha Press Club was an older, elegant, three-story corner building with a repeating pattern of a quill and a scroll carved along the edges of the windows and the roof—the press club emblem, which was also embossed in gold above the revolving door entrance. The lobby was done in dark wood and lush red carpet and had a distinctly masculine feel, right down to the air, which smelled faintly of aftershave.
Behind the large welcome desk were two pretty women dressed in smart-looking wine-red suits with the club emblem stitched onto the lapels. They greeted us with a smile. “How may I help you?” the slim brunette on the left asked.
Barrla and I pulled our credentials—duly forged by Fenris—out of our handbags. We’d dressed in skirt suits similar in style to the one these women wore and three-inch heels that I’d spent a good portion of this morning practicing in so that I wouldn’t wobble. My toes were already beginning to pinch, but I was proud that, so far, I hadn’t tripped. After a cursory examination of the credentials, we were waved right into the lounge to the right of the lobby, a large rectangular room. It was all leather seats and low tables, mostly filled with middle-aged men whose cheeks were already ruddy from drinking. Quite a few of them had cigars, and I wrinkled my nose at the haze of bluish-gray smoke in the air.
“Where are all the female reporters?” Barrla asked in a low voice as interested male gazes turned our way.
“I imagine that they’re out chasing stories, as these men should be doing instead of drinking like fish and smoking like chimneys,” I answered in an equally low voice, though I kept a pleasant expression on my face. “I imagine that’s where the young male reporters are too.” These guys seemed to be the veterans, the ones who were past their prime and content to rest on their laurels rather than hunt down juicy leads.
As we had previously agreed, Barrla and I split up. She went to the back of the room to chat up a thin, silver-haired man who was drinking bourbon with a colleague, and in no time her bubbly laughter was filling the room. I spotted a man drinking alone in the corner who looked to be in his early fifties, with a compact build and thinning hair.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, patting the arm of the leather chair across from him.
“Be my guest,” he said, gesturing toward it. He looked up at me in surprise, clearly not expecting that I would take an interest in him, and I smiled as I took the chair. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I’m Mina Shelton, from the Deros Globe,” I said, holding out a hand for him to shake. “I just got to town.”
“Rubb Slade,” the man said, shaking my hand. He frowned. “I thought the Deros Globe already sent a reporter.”
“We’re a large paper,” I told him. “They decided to send me along to cover the wedding specifically, while my colleague concentrates on the Convention. My boss thinks that a woman is better suited to find out all the gossip around the Chief Mage’s romance.”
Rubb gave me a condescending smile. “Ah, of course. You’ll write pages and pages about the gown and the flowers and the food, and how beautiful the bride is, I expect.”
“I’m quite good at my job,” I said simply, not rising to the bait. I lifted a hand to signal the server. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”
I ordered Rubb another glass of what he’d been drinking—an amazingly expensive brand of whiskey, it turned out, as the glass was delivered. Good thing I was rich now. He took a long drink from the glass, then let out a satisfied sigh.
“Good stuff,” he said, lowering his glass. “Aren’t you having some?”
“It’s a bit early in the day for me,” I demurred. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about the wedding venue.”
Rubb scoffed. “Only that it’s off-limits to non-mages, which you already know. They won’t even tell us where the actual wedding is being held. Those of us who are covering it are only allowed to attend the receptions, so if you were hoping to sneak into the actual ceremony, you’re out of luck. None of us her
e can help you.”
“Do you think that’s because they’re worried the Resistance might try to attack during the ceremony?” I asked.
Rubb shook his head. “Mages have always been secretive about their little rituals,” he sneered. “None of the press have ever been invited to a mage wedding in the history of the Federation, or anywhere in Recca as far as I know.”
“That’s true,” I said—the various temples of Resinah were a closely guarded secret. Since mage weddings were always held at a temple among the closest friends and family, few humans would ever have attended one. “But what about the wedding reception? Is there any danger there?”
“Not likely,” Rubb said. “The mages are paranoid, and security is everywhere. It would take a bloody miracle to get at the bastards.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you wouldn’t be entirely sorry if that miracle did happen.”
Rubb laughed. “Sorry? It would be the story of the century! And one I would relish telling, as would you. It’s the kind of scoop every journalist dreams of.”
“Oh yes, it would be very exciting to cover such a sensation,” I agreed as I signaled the waiter. “But also pretty dangerous, so I think I’ll pass. Anyway, since you say it is so unlikely, there’s no point in thinking too much about it.”
“Yes,” Rubb said, a calculating gleam in his dark eyes. “Even so, I’d advise you not to get too close to the Chief Mage and his bride just in case something untoward does happen. They would be the prime targets, along with the Minister.”
“I appreciate the advice,” I said coolly as the waiter came by with the bill. I paid it, then stood up. “Thank you for the conversation, Mr. Slade. Enjoy your whiskey.”
I turned on my heel and moved on to the next target, who proved to be far more pleasant, if a bit too long-winded. Barrla and I spent another hour there, and though we didn’t learn anything conclusive, we did get a copy of the scheduled events, which listed not only the times and the venues, but also which big-wigs were expected to attend.