by Jasmine Walt
“This is quite detailed,” I said as I scanned the list, which had been painstakingly copied by hand. “How did you get this?”
“By batting my lashes and asking nicely,” Barrla said with a wink. “Men are so easy.”
“They certainly are for you,” I agreed with a laugh. “I’m glad you came along—this is more than I would have gotten on my own.”
“I told you I would be useful,” Barrla said, looping my arm in hers. “Now why don’t we take a break and enjoy ourselves?”
Barrla tucked the schedule away in her purse, and we caught a cable car down to Witches End. She was absolutely delighted as we explored the magical shops, and purchased several charms and potions. Eventually I steered her toward Elnos Ragga’s shop so I could pick up the gulayas I’d ordered the previous day.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Shelton,” Elnos said with a smile as we entered the store. His eyes lit up as they settled on Barrla. “I see you’ve brought a friend. Your photographer?” He glanced at the large camera bag slung over Barrla’s shoulder.
“Yes. I’m Barrla Kelling,” Barrla said with a smile, offering her hand. “Mina didn’t tell me that you were so handsome.”
Elnos grinned. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” he said, his eyes bright as his gaze lingered on her red curls. “Would you two like to join me at the café up the street for a bite? I was just about to head out to lunch.”
“That sounds lovely,” Barrla said. “I’m famished!”
Elnos handed over the gulayas, and the three of us walked a short way along the pier to a charming outdoor café that served sandwiches and salads under striped red-and-white canvas awnings. The waiter joked with Elnos and was very prompt in serving our selections. I guessed Elnos came here often and was a favored customer.
As the three of us drank cold tea and ate, Barrla and I told Elnos about the lazy reporters at the press club and how we were trying to ferret out information regarding a suspected Resistance attack. From what Fenris had told me, Elnos was trustworthy, and we needed all the help we could get.
“You cannot be serious,” he said when we were finished, frowning deeply. “If there is such a plot, why would you—a journalist—know more about it than the mage authorities? Or are you working undercover for the Mages Guild?”
“We have connections,” I said, “one of whom is plugged into Resistance circles. And I’m not working for the Mages Guild, though if we find any proof of what we suspect, we’ll immediately involve the proper authorities. We’ve already sent them warnings and told them what we do know.”
He stared at me, then at Barrla, who nodded in confirmation. “I guess after all this poor city has lived through in the recent past, it should not surprise me.” He pushed his half-eaten sandwich away, and I felt a bit guilty for ruining his appetite. “Now that I think about it, though, this kind of thing is only to be expected.”
“Solantha does seem to attract its fair share of trouble,” I agreed.
“It sure seems so,” Barrla said. “It’s a very exciting city.” I had to hide a smile at the tone in her voice—she clearly didn’t think any less of Solantha for being dangerous.
“If there truly is a Resistance plan to attack this wedding, it must be stopped at all costs,” Elnos said. “Iannis and Sunaya are my friends. I shall talk to my contacts in the Mages Guild myself, check if they are aware of the danger.”
“Good.” Hopefully that would make them take even more stringent precautions.
Elnos took another drink of his cold tea, then put down the empty cup with a decisive thud. “You know, after you left yesterday, I got to thinking about what kind of magitech device might be useful for a reporter looking for a good scoop.”
“Magitech?” Barrla asked, looking confused.
“It’s a term used to describe any device or tool that combines magic and technology,” Elnos explained. “As an inventor and a mage, I delight in bringing new magitech devices to life. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been working on a new variation of the ether pigeon, one who can spy. It was inspired by Miss Baine’s ether parrot, the only one in existence. If you are working against the Resistance, you might be able to make good use of it.”
“A spy ether pigeon?” I asked, leaning in a little. “How would that work?”
Grinning, Elnos pulled a small metal owl from his sleeve. “I’ve created a new spell which conjures an ether owl that can turn invisible,” he told me, setting the owl in the middle of the table. It was roughly the size of my palm and absolutely adorable. “The ether owl will be able to transmit what it sees and hears through this twinned owl puppet, which can repeat the audio and play the video through the mirrors in its eyes.”
Barrla gently picked up the bronze owl and turned it over in her palms. “Those are some very small mirrors,” she said, examining the owl’s eyes. “I imagine only one person will be able to look into them at a time.”
“Yes, well, it’s not meant as a presentation that can be broadcast to an audience,” Elnos said. “It’s a reconnaissance tool, and one I would like you to field-test for me.”
I blinked in shock. “You’re giving this to me?”
“Lending it,” Elnos corrected. “It’s the first working prototype. I don’t plan on selling it, at least not yet, but I’d like you to make use of it in your investigation and then let me know just how useful you find it and if any improvements need to be made.”
“I would be more than happy to,” I said, taking the owl from Barrla. “Can you teach me the spell to summon the ether owl?”
Elnos told me the incantation, then wrote it down on a napkin for good measure. Holding the metal owl in the palm of my hand, I repeated the Words, and an identical glowing blue owl appeared on the table. It hooted softly as it looked up at me, cocking its head curiously, and Barrla squealed.
“Oh, it’s so cute!” She reached for it, but her fingers passed through the owl’s ghostly feathers. “Why can’t I touch it?”
“It’s called an ether owl for a reason,” I said, amused at the pout on her face. “Go to the Solantha Press Club bar,” I commanded the owl, then spoke the Word to send it on its way.
The owl disappeared, and its metal counterpart whirred to life, its mirrored eyes flashing. Within moments, the mirrors cleared, revealing the lounge Barrla and I had been sitting in before. The bird was hovering over one of the tables, where several of the journalists we’d talked to were gathered.
“I wish those girls would come back,” one of them said. “After they left, I suddenly realized how boring you lot are.”
Another one scoffed. “What, you think you’d be able to get a piece of that ass? Don’t kid yourself, Waldorn. They’re both way beyond your league.”
“I bet I could get the blonde to open her legs for me,” a third one leered. He was admittedly a bit younger and more attractive than the others, though that wasn’t saying much. “She was pretty cozy with me when we were chatting earlier.”
“How original,” I said dryly, leaning back. “They’re talking about how much better they would have liked to get to know us, Barrla.”
Barrla frowned at that, and Elnos grimaced. “I’m glad I’ve chosen a different profession,” he said, tossing a couple of coins onto the table. “I’ve got to get back to work, ladies, but it was great having lunch with you. Please come by the shop again soon.”
Barrla and I said goodbye to Elnos, and I prepared to recall the ether owl since the journalists were saying nothing of importance. But before I could, I caught frantic motion in the owl’s mirrored eyes, and I clutched it closer so I could see what was going on.
“Are you sure?” one of the journalists was saying eagerly. “The Minister is arriving today?”
“Of course I’m sure, you idiot!” another man said. “He’ll be giving a press conference at his mansion in two hours. We have to get ready!”
“Two hours?” Barrla exclaimed when I told her what he’d said. She dug the schedule out of her bag. �
��That’s not on the press schedule.”
“No,” I said, giving her a wide smile. “But we’re going to be there anyway.”
10
Mina
It was a good thing we had a head start, as it took over an hour to get through the snarled traffic. On top of that, the extra guards outside the Mages Quarter checked our press credentials, and our steamcab’s registration, before letting us in. I looked around curiously—this was the richest, most exclusive part of Solantha, although the houses differed in size. A few streets had brownstones with tiny front gardens alongside much larger mansions standing alone in the middle of well-kept gardens. Unlike every other part of the city, there was no construction here. The earthquake from last year must have completely bypassed this part of town. I wondered if that was due to magical intervention or if the Mages Quarter had simply been lucky.
“I see very few people on the streets here,” Barrla said.
“Seems like it’s mostly a residential area, no shops,” I said. “So there wouldn’t be much foot traffic.” The few pedestrians we saw walking up and down the sidewalks either wore robes or the uniforms of maids or nannies.
“There are a few shops around here,” the cabbie said, “clustered in two streets west of here, but they are too expensive for anyone but pampered mages. They have all the gold.”
I tried not to feel too guilty at being one of those rich mages—after all, I’d lived without riches for over a decade, working as hard as any human. And besides, there were plenty of wealthy humans in the rest of the city, from what I had observed.
The cabbie turned a corner, and we found ourselves in front of a huge mansion decorated with the flags of the Federation. “So this is the residence the Minister rented,” Barrla said in a hushed voice, sounding awed. “Who do you think lived here before? They must be very rich.”
Everyone and their dog seemed to know that the Minister was in town. The entrance gates of the mansion were crowded with members of the press and at least a dozen mages trying to get in. The latter probably were federal officials summoned to report to their ultimate boss, Minister Graning. The cabbie dropped us off with a sarcastic “Good luck!” after I tipped him, and Barrla and I joined the queue lining up to go through security.
The gates were guarded by both humans and imposing mages wearing black robes. It was the mages who inspected us, checking our credentials and patting us down for weapons. Even Barrla’s camera was closely scrutinized, as though they feared it might be a concealed bomb. The magitech owl they brushed off as a mere toy, to my amusement, and they didn’t comment on my serapha charm either, even though it would have tipped them off that I was a mage. I guessed mage reporters weren’t so uncommon after all.
Eventually we were permitted through the gates and into the courtyard, which was completely packed with press people and flunkies milling about. “Wow,” I muttered to Barrla. “I had no idea so many members of the press had come to Solantha. With such little notice of the press conference, it’s amazing that they all arrived here in time.” It was as though they had some instinct telling them where and when to come here.
“I didn’t know there were so many members of the press, period,” Barrla said, sounding equally amazed. But she schooled her face into an expression of cool professionalism, and I did the same—we couldn’t afford to look like a pair of small town girls who’d lost our way, not in front of this experienced and cynical lot.
Hoping to get a good look at the Minister, whom I’d never seen before, Barrla and I elbowed our way as close to the front steps as possible. There was already a podium set up, and several important-looking mages were standing next to it—probably members of the Minister’s office. Barrla noticed that the photographers were all grouped in the front, so she went to join them with her camera in hand, while I stood further back with the other journalists.
“Hello there,” a familiar voice said, and I turned to see that Rubb, the journalist I’d treated to that expensive whiskey, was standing next to me.
“Nice to see you again,” I lied, hiding my instinctive dislike for the man. “Have you attended press conferences with the Minister before? Is it always like this?”
“In Dara he is not mobbed because people are more used to his presence,” he said, as his eyes wandered over the scene. “It is ridiculous, but there you are. Power attracts weaker minds like shit attracts flies.”
“Not very flattering, considering that we too are here to see him,” I said dryly. Had he been trying to shock me? I’d seen my fair share of disgusting things as a country veterinarian—he would have to try much harder. “Is he likely to say anything of particular interest to my readers?”
Rubb shrugged. “I doubt it. These bigwigs consider anything they say to be important, no matter how stupid or trivial, just because they say it with a serious face. It’s all a game, girl, not to be taken seriously.”
“Of course,” I said, as if I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“If it were Lord Iannis, now, I’d be more interested in what he has to say,” Rubb continued, a gleam in his eye. “But it seems he is still out of town.”
“I do hope he won’t miss his own wedding,” I commented. “That would make for a very different article than the one I planned to write.”
“Maybe, but it would still make for an interesting story,” Rubb pointed out. “‘Derelict Chief Mage Disappoints Powerful Guests,’” or something like that. It would put a swift end to his undeserved popularity.” He smirked. “The articles would practically write themselves.”
I didn’t agree that Lord Iannis’s popularity was undeserved, considering what Fenris had told me about his friend, but there was no doubt that it would be a social catastrophe if the bridegroom or bride were not back in time, after inviting the entire government to their wedding. I tried to edge away from Rubb, tired of his relentless negativity, but was blocked by all the bodies around me. With nowhere to go, I was forced to suffer his company.
It was a good fifteen minutes before the crowd finally hushed and the Minister took the stage. The mage to his left announced him as Lord Zavian Graning, Minister of the Northia Federation. I was not impressed at what I saw—while he looked both imperious and intelligent, he was not particularly tall or handsome, with ordinary brown hair and plain features.
“Thank you for coming here today,” the Minister said, his strong voice carrying across the courtyard without the aid of a microphone—he was using magic to enhance it. “I’m going to share some highlights of the Convention agenda and answer a few questions from the press.”
The Minister proceeded to drone on for several long minutes about some of the legislation and issues that the Convention was going to vote on, but when the Q&A period came, it was clear nobody cared about any of that. The questions were all about Iannis and Sunaya, and seemed to center around the Minister’s personal thoughts about the upcoming wedding.
“How do you feel about the Chief Mage of such an important state marrying a shifter?” one of the reporters shouted, a question I found particularly interesting. “Is it not going to set an unfortunate precedent?”
“Lord Iannis is not just marrying a shifter,” the Minister replied. “Miss Baine is also a powerful mage in her own right, and has repeatedly proven herself against the Resistance. As for setting a precedent, I see little danger of that since there are not two like her in the entire Federation.” The briefest of frowns flitted across his face, and I gathered he was quite thankful that Sunaya didn’t have a doppelganger. “I wish both of them well, and will be hosting a reception in their honor in just a few days.”
That last bit was nothing new, since his planned reception, which was being held in a large Solantha concert hall, was featured prominently on the schedule we had studied. It was in the middle of the coming week, the night before the Convention opening and just days before the wedding. But would the Chief Mage and his bride be back in time? To not turn up at the Minister’s reception for them would be
an intolerable insult, and nearly as much of a fiasco as not showing up for the wedding itself. I imagined the event would have to be cancelled at the last minute, in that case.
“Do you know where Lord Iannis and his bride are, and when they are expected back?” another reporter asked, obviously thinking the same thing I was. “Why has he left so suddenly, right before the Convention? As the host, should he not be here at your side at this moment?”
“Lord Iannis has left on an important mission for the Federation,” the Minister answered. “He is expected back shortly.”
“Minister,” a female voice called, and I turned to see Mirrine standing just a few feet to my left. I’d completely forgotten that she would be here! Hopefully she would not blow my cover, but she was not even looking in my direction, her eyes fixed on the Minister. “Do you see any likelihood that such a disparate match will lead to a happy union? Miss Baine may be a powerful mage, but there are considerations of age, nationality, and power differentials. Surely they will find it difficult to reconcile all that.”
I spun back around just in time to glimpse a look of shock on the Minister’s face. It was gone so quickly that I could almost have imagined it, but no—I knew what I saw. But why would he find the question shocking? Surely he’d had similar thoughts many times himself, as did every mage who heard about the unusual couple. Since mage marriages were forever, both the bride and the groom were taking a great risk.
“Nobody can tell the future,” the Minister responded blandly, “but I have every confidence in Chief Mage Iannis and his bride. That will be all.”
The other reporters began shouting questions all at once, but the Minister turned on his heel and went back inside the house, two escorts trailing him.
“Typical,” Rubb muttered. “These mages always like to act holier-than-thou, as if they never have affairs and their eternal marriages are always blissful. I doubt the Chief Mage and his shifter bride will have a happy marriage for long…if they ever get married at all.”