Concealed_The Taellaneth

by Vanessa Nelson

  “No.”

  “Anything else you need to tell us?” Zachary could do silky soft as well as the elder.

  “Get out of my house.”

  “If anything springs to mind, call,” Zachary ordered.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I mean it, Lucy. There are things going on here that are more important than your jealousy and temper. Call.”

  “Out.”

  Zachary raised his lip, showing white teeth, before turning on his heel and stalking out.

  “You too,” Lucy snapped at Arrow.

  “He speaks the truth. There is a serious danger that we believe Marianne came across. More information would be useful.”

  Keeping her voice calm, and Zachary’s absence, seemed finally to break through Lucy’s rage. The human woman hugged herself again.

  “Is it my fault?” Lucy’s temper vanished like smoke leaving her raw and vulnerable.

  “I do not know. I intend to find out why she died.” Arrow heard her voice hard and cold. This human had no idea what she was dealing with, she was sure. And may have caused the death of her lover. “I will share what I can,” Arrow added, momentary sympathy prompting the offer.

  “Thank you.”

  Arrow decided there was nothing more she could say or do. Holding Lucy’s attention with her power was one thing. Using magic to force Lucy’s mind open and reveal her secrets was quite another thing, one of the forms of forbidden magic. She would not betray her oaths as a magician, even on the trail of surjusi.

  She left the house, bundle of papers in her arms. She followed the Prime’s back down the driveway and out of the gates to the vehicles. Matthias straightened at his father’s expression.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Yes. Track down Hugh Danes.” Zachary held a hand out to Arrow and she passed over the sheet of paper, creased from her grip. “Find out where he is and what he’s doing right now.”

  “I’ll need to get to the muster house to run this.” Matthias took the information. “Keep it quiet?”

  “Yes. Go. Arrow and I will follow.”

  Matthias drove off without further question, leaving Arrow holding the papers next to a tense and furious Prime.

  ~

  Zachary paced restlessly along the street. Reasonably sure he was not going to harm her and too curious to wait, Arrow flicked through the papers so reluctantly provided. There was less here than she had hoped. Handwritten notes, difficult to read, with a few prominent names. Notes, she thought, detailing the places that Marianne had visited searching for whatever her client had wanted. Printed copies of a few e-mails updating the client and a copy invoice from a shipping firm in Hallveran, sending some package back to Lix. It was a shock to see one of the Descendants so casually referred to, the mere name carrying resonance for the Erith and not lightly used within the Taellaneth. The White Guard would want to see this. She thought it unlikely that the Prime would allow this material to be given to them.

  She puzzled over the plastic device, turning it in her hand.

  “Lucy didn’t tell us everything.” Zachary’s voice by her ear startled her. At some point he had started reading over her shoulder.

  “The last communication, this invoice, is four months ago. When Marianne disappeared. And Lucy did not give this to us when we spoke to her first.” Had actively concealed it, in fact, lying so well that Arrow had not picked up on it. Nor had Zachary.

  “Doesn’t look like much. What’s that?” Zachary held out his hand for the plastic thing. “Ah. Flash drive.”

  “Flash drive?”

  “Computer memory. You plug it in … It’s a way of storing information,” he explained, mouth twitching at her puzzled expression. “I’ll get one of the techs to print it off and get you a copy.”

  “Thank you.” She stared at the small thing, wondering how much information could be kept on something about the size of her thumb. “I had hoped there would be something here to help understand what happened.”

  The low thrum of shifkin anger held Arrow motionless for a moment. Only a moment. Zachary was not angry at her.

  “Lucy’s hiding things. But. They loved each other,” he said. That old anger was back in his voice. He caught her startled expression and laughed, little humour in it. “You’re young. Things don’t always last. No matter how well they start.”

  She ducked her eyes in instinctive respect. He usually carried his age lightly or hid it well along with his power. In this leafy street he bore every one of his many years as a leaden coat. As she scrambled for something to say he sighed softly, all the age tucked away again, and leant back against the vehicle, forcing himself to be still, folding his arms, glaring at the pavement.

  “I can’t believe that Lucy would hurt Marianne.”

  “Not deliberately, perhaps,” Arrow agreed. “She may not have realised how dangerous her cousin was.”

  Zachary absorbed that in silence for a while, still tense. Likely fighting a similar impulse to Arrow. She wanted to march back into the residence and demand answers. Why would Lucy be helping Marianne’s killer?

  “Marianne was stubborn. Impatient. Too damn curious for her own good. She was also absolutely loyal. Trustworthy.” It struck Arrow as a curious assessment of the woman who had left their mate bond. Zachary made a small sound that might have been a laugh. “Yes, loyal.” Bitterness coated his words. “She was a better friend than partner.”

  There was a world under those simple words. A brief glimpse into the tangled personal life and tangled politics of the shifkin Prime. Leader of a nation that did not accept weakness in those in charge. A leader who described his straying mate as trustworthy and had not publicly revealed her betrayal for ten years. Matthias knew, unhappy at a stranger being let into his father’s secrets. But Matthias did not know all his Prime’s secrets. Perhaps Marianne had been the only one who did. Trustworthy. Loyal. A true friend, to Arrow’s ears.

  “She didn’t deserve this,” he added, uncannily following Arrow’s line of thought. He was showing her a side that she suspected very few people got to see. The trust warmed her.

  For a long moment Arrow could not think of a single thing to say, too much crowding her mind.

  “We will find who did this, Prime.”

  “Yes. And end them. Let’s get to work. Where next?”

  She paused, catching his attention. “There is somewhere here I would like to visit.”

  “Something relevant?”

  “I do not know. When I was last here there was something. I did not have time to follow it. It was like Erith magic but not. A little bit like what I felt on the mountain.”

  His attention sharpened. “Let’s take a look. Might as well do something.” There was a snarl under those words, and a sharp look back in the direction of the house hidden by trees. “Drive or walk? Which way?”

  “Drive would be quicker. Along here and left to start with.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  They left the vehicle tucked under a large, spreading, evergreen tree that mostly hid it from view, going ahead on foot. There was no snow here, a light breeze freezing her skin, skeletons of trees poking up at the sky waiting patiently for spring. Winding through the bare branches, tightly woven hedges and high stone walls that concealed other residences was the faint trace she remembered from before.

  The Prime seemed happy to follow her lead, although he had armed himself before they left the vehicle and checked that his mobile phone was on and receiving a signal. He padded silently beside her, heavy boots making no sound. She was clumsy and loud by comparison, constantly stepping on frozen leaves or branches, footfalls loud.

  At length they came to the border of a residence that had clearly not been used for some time. The hedge was overgrown, spreading out across the pavement, plants too dense for them to push through, an effective barrier in the first world. In the second world the grounds were circled with old ward spells.

  “Here.” She tried to make her voice a
s soft as possible, not wanting to alert any possible listeners. She kept walking, one hand sliding into her bag searching for chalk, the other checking her pocket where she had put Kallish’s communicator disk.

  The residence had one of the largest grounds that they had seen, and it took a little while longer to reach the gates, tangled with vines. Worn from time and weather the metal name plate was damaged, some letters missing. H. E. S. A. N.

  Ice filled her. Hessman. There were other human names that would fit. Arrow dismissed the possibility. Hessman. The name of an Ancestor on a property with Erith magic woven into its wards.

  “Looks empty,” Zachary said. He had glanced at the nameplate and was now focused on the residence that could just be glimpsed through the trees. Blank windows looked back at them.

  “It is guarded,” she told him, stepping back out of view of the house, fingers tightening on the disk. The White Guard would want to know.

  “There’s no one here.” The Prime crouched in the shadows beside her, making his own assessment. “No scent at all, which is wrong.”

  “The wards are old. Laid perhaps decades ago. Perhaps as recently as twenty. Still active. Not listening,” she clarified, “or watching. There to defend.”

  “Bet you can get through them.” The Prime’s eyes glinted.

  “Most likely.” She nodded, continuing her assessment. He growled irritation. Busy trying to understand the spellwork, Arrow ignored him. “Ward spell variant,” she said to herself, her own wards shimmering to life. “Clever.” And skilled. Decades old, and the skill level used to draw the wards here was almost at the level used on the mountain.

  “Shall we go?” The hunter wanted to move.

  “A moment, please.” Torn between hope that she was not overreacting and hope that she was not using the gift for nothing, Arrow took the communicator from her pocket and activated it.

  “Arrow?” Kallish’s face appeared a bare heartbeat later, the warrior’s tone urgent and quiet.

  “Svegraen. It appears that Marianne Stillwater had taken commission from Hugh Danes. Her business partner is cousin to Danes. And I have discovered a Hessman residence with Erith magic in its wards not far from Marianne’s house in Lix. I fear the Descendants may be active in Lix and your aid would be welcome.”

  “Will you be at that location a little longer?”

  “Yes. The Hessman residence, which I wish to investigate.”

  “We will be there soon.”

  The connection severed. Arrow put the spent disk back in her pocket.

  “You called the guard.” Zachary did not look displeased, watching her with a thoughtful expression she was coming to know.

  “The Descendants,” Arrow began, waiting for the oath-spells to wake and cripple her. They remained silent. A welcome side benefit of having breached her own seals, perhaps. “The Descendants,” she said again, testing, and continuing when no pain rose, “have history with the Erith. Their Ancestors breached the Erith borders and attempted an incursion in Erith lands.”

  “Humans?” Zachary was astonished.

  “Quite so. The White Guard have kept watch on them, but perhaps not closely enough.”

  “You think the Descendants are involved in Marianne’s death?”

  “And the surjusi. Possibly. I would like to investigate this residence.”

  “Let’s go.” His face was alive with interest and anticipation.

  ~

  They went back to the gates, Arrow drawing power to her fingertips as they walked, watching the reaction of the wards in the second world. Every spell line that she could see remained dormant, uninterested in a magician brushing past the perimeter. Reaching the gates, she used her hand to draw a rune for opening in the air, trace of silver power following her movement, then pressed the rune on the lock. It was gentle magic, no harmful intent present, and the gate opened without protest, rusty hinges creaking in the first world, no disturbance in the second world.

  Arrow walked up the curving driveway to the residence with Zachary as her silent shadow, nearly invisible in the second world, too, as he had his own power contained. The residence was a tall, square construction several storeys high. They circled it carefully. Almost one entire wall, facing away from the road towards the extensive garden, was glass.

  “A tower?” Zachary muttered, disbelieving. “Like a genuine old castle tower?”

  “Not for defense,” she noted, nodding at the window.

  “Still. A tower?”

  “This means something in the human world?” Arrow asked, genuinely confused. Among the Erith watchtowers were common. They were functional buildings, not residences. She could not understand why a wealthy human, able to afford the large stretch of land here, would want a tower.

  “Load of romantic nonsense,” he said dismissively. “Humans used to build castles a bit like this. With smaller windows.”

  They arrived back at the front door, an impressively large wooden construct banded with thick iron that seemed to be designed to keep out an army.

  Whatever its original purpose, the door opened easily at Arrow’s push. The wards around and through the building were restless, less compliant than the ones at the gate.

  “We are about to make noise,” Arrow said, watching the spell lines vibrating.

  “Magic?”

  “The building has different wards to the gate. Taking them down will be loud.”

  “Good.” The satisfaction in his voice carried clearly into the second world.

  She pushed aside a trail of spell that wanted to know who and what she was, her own wards rising.

  “There is no darkness here,” she told him, “no urjusi or trace of surjusi.”

  If the Prime answered, she did not hear him, her attention focused on the residence’s ward spells that were flaring to life all around them. Even without forbidden magic they were powerful, testament to the abilities of the magician who had set them. A small exercise of will, a word of command, and the defences fell. Not before there was a flicker at the edge of her sight, a flare in the second world that any magician nearby would sense.

  “The wards are down. The effect was large.” She came back mostly into the first world, second sight overlaid.

  “Then we should move.” Zachary was through one of the doors as he spoke, moving with the spare efficiency of a predator. Arrow followed.

  The residence was both dull and odd. The air was stale, yet every surface was free of dust. The building was in good repair and yet several doors stuck, reluctant to open. There were no personal effects anywhere, even in the bed chambers, and yet the air resonated with the echoes of the building’s inhabitants. And apart from the wards which Arrow had cut through there were no other signs of magic inside.

  “Nothing.” Zachary was irritated. She did not blame him.

  They were standing half-way up the stairs where there was a wide, carpeted, landing set with a pair of comfortable chairs, bathed in sunlight through the spelled glass that rose the entire height of the building. Even in this dull winter day, the stairwell was bright with light, pale bricks along the internal walls angled so that the sun focused down to the stone floor far below. The stairs were an open construction, a mix of wooden treads and barely-there metal supports.

  Arrow tilted her head, wondering why the builders had chosen this particular wall for the window. The building was not quite high enough to see over the tops of the surrounding trees, the nearest trees a short distance from the building, letting the light in. So, the window was not here for the view. And the internal walls blocked the light from going into the rest of the building.

  ~

  She was trying to work out what way the building faced when there was a dark flicker at the edge of her second sight. Tilting her head again, she focused. Underneath the trees in the grounds something watched them. Something vaguely human-shaped, distorted by a mass of focused power that was growing larger as she watched.

  “Down!” she yelled, following her own advi
ce and ducking behind one of the chairs, not waiting to see if the Prime followed her advice.

  The tangled mass of power, unclean mage fire, hit the glass with an impact that reverberated through the whole building, the spelled glass shuddering before it gave in quiet surrender, glass shattering into glittering shards that fell in bright, ringing, rain, darkness of the tainted power fizzing out, power spent, winter cold air rushing in.

  Arrow’s wards flared, forming a protective dome, spelled glass sparking as it fell.

  A low, dark, sound nearby and she saw the Prime lying prone, a shard of glass as long as an Erith warrior’s forearm pinning his arm to the floor, head tucked in, back sparkling with bits of glass.

  “Prime.” She extended a hand. He took it without question and she extended her wards to cover him as the rest of the glass fell.

  Another blot of power thumped against the wall over their heads. Sticky, dark, mage fire. Shadowed in the second world. Surjusi taint. Arrow pulled power, speaking the command for her own mage fire, risking a peek over the arm of the chair she was hiding behind.

  Under the trees the dark shape had resolved into the too-familiar shadowed shape of Marianne’s killer. It stood still, watching.

  Arrow rose to a crouch, careful to keep hold of the Prime, shields extended, and sent her own bolt of mage fire out into the garden. To her surprise it struck, coating the magic user’s shields in silver before fizzing to nothing. The magic user staggered back into shadow as she readied another bolt, and a moment later she felt the displacement of a translocation spell.

  “Ethtar,” she spat the curse.

  “He’s gone?” The Prime was not surprised.

  “Yes. Translocation.”

  “I hate that spell.”

  “Yes.” Arrow paused, checking with all her senses. “Definitely gone.” She let the mage fire die and turned as the Prime let go of her hand. He simply pulled the glass out of his arm with a grimace, dripping blood on the carpet.