Fugitive by Magic: a Baine Chronicles novel (The Baine Chronicles: Fenris's Story Book 1)

by Jasmine Walt

  You are growing far too attached to her, I told myself sternly.

  But it had felt damn good to take her into my arms yesterday, to stroke and soothe her and tell her that she was safe. I’d felt fierce pride as I’d watched her handle the mage without falling apart. Despite her fear, she had kept up her quick-witted deception without flagging until it was safe to let go.

  I hadn’t realized, when I’d first met Mina at that party, that she suffered from a broken past. Most of the time, she acted as the calm, competent veterinarian who tended to the town’s animals. But whatever had happened to her in her youth, whatever her family had done, had left deep scars, and this ordeal was bringing those painful memories back to the surface.

  And it’s your fault, a voice said in my mind. Your fault for letting your territorial instincts take over and using your magic when it wasn’t strictly necessary.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. Yes, that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Living out here in the country, away from the confines of the Solantha Mages Guild, was forcing me to deal with those instincts. Iannis’s home had been an ivory tower of sorts, and my wolf had retreated in the presence of so many mages. I had fooled myself into pretending I’d mastered both halves of myself, when, in reality, I’d only suppressed my beast, built a cage around him. It was only through my observation of Sunaya, a panther shifter at ease with that side of herself, that I realized I needed to hone my shifter abilities.

  I still remembered the day she had looked down her nose at me when Iannis had given me that truth wand to interrogate the servants. A real shifter wouldn’t use a truth wand, her gaze had said, and for a second, I’d felt ashamed. My lifelong habits had made me too reliant on magic, using it when there was no real need.

  And I’d done it again at that party.

  Perhaps Mina and I are two different sides of the same coin, I thought as I finally rose and dressed for the day. She needs to master her magic, and I need to stop using mine as a crutch.

  Still pondering our similarities and differences, I went to the kitchen to make myself breakfast. To my chagrin, I found I was completely out of eggs and barely had enough coffee to last me through the next day. My stomach grumbled as I devoured a measly few pieces of buttered toast. At least this was a problem easily solved. I would go to the general store forthwith to replenish my supplies.

  As I approached the store on horseback, the scent of eggs and bacon wafted from the inn pub just across the road, and I found myself altering course. While I knew the pub rented out a few guest rooms on the first floor, I had not been aware they served breakfast, but so much the better. As Polar ar’Tollis, I’d often skipped meals, but shifters needed to eat six times a day, so that was not an option now. Dismounting, I tied my horse to one of the posts outside, then headed into the dark, cool interior. My stomach rumbled again as I ducked inside.

  I’d been there for the card games with Marris and his friends, and the scent of beer and stale cigarettes still hung in the air, though overlaid now with the more attractive odor of warm food. To my surprise, the place was completely packed despite the early hour. Most of the traffic seemed to be congregated to a recessed table toward the back.

  I started when I noticed a mage in dark green robes at the back table, tucking into a breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee. A large leather money purse sat open next to his plate, and a steady stream of people were waiting to see him, clutching forms in one hand and money purses in the other as they warily stood in line.

  Right, I suddenly realized. Today is tax day.

  Marris had told me over dinner last week that the tax collector held court at the inn every year and that the townsfolk would stop by throughout the morning to pay their dues. I suddenly became aware of the weight of my own purse hanging from my waist. Luckily, I always carried some gold coins for emergencies, and there was enough in there to cover my yearly tax. I did not want to go back to the house to fetch more when I was already here and could not conjure fresh gold with so many witnesses around.

  What Marris had not warned me about, however, was the shifter sitting right next to the tax inspector—a hyena, judging by the quick whiff I got of him. He was a young male with dark brown hair and a swarthy face, and though he did not look entirely pleased about having to do it, each time a citizen came up with coins, he ostentatiously sniffed them before allowing the money to drop into the waiting sack.

  Sniffing for magic, I realized, my gut tightening. For counterfeit gold.

  I debated getting into line and paying right then and there, but my stomach grumbled even louder, as if in protest. Right—taxes could wait. I found a seat at the bar and ordered a gigantic breakfast that would put even Sunaya to shame. A smile twitched at my lips, and I wondered what she would say if she were here. She’d probably make some snide comment about the tax inspector taking too much from people who had too little and then challenge me to see who could eat the most bacon within fifteen minutes.

  A wave of homesickness filled me, and I forced it back as my food arrived. I needed to stop thinking of Solantha as home, or I would never get used to my new life out here. As I tucked into my food with gusto, I watched the tax inspector and his hyena sidekick out of the corner of my eye.

  So the Federation was cracking down on illicit gold now that Thorgana’s use of it had become public knowledge. The other shifter’s eyes met mine for a moment as he hefted a small purse in his hand. I quickly turned back to my food—I didn’t want his attention on me any longer than necessary. I routinely took pains to mask the scent of magic from my body so that another shifter should not suspect anything amiss. But this shifter was allied with a mage, and I saw no point in courting trouble.

  Just in case his nose was unusually acute, I pulled a small bottle of aftershave from the magical pocket in my tunic and surreptitiously dabbed a tiny bit just beneath my jawline on both sides of my neck. To a human, it wouldn’t smell like much, but my eyes already watered from the strong cedar-and-mint fragrance. From the way the shifter’s head suddenly came up, his nose wrinkling in distaste, I knew he scented it too. Now he certainly would not be able to detect any whiff of magic about me.

  I waited until the crowd had thinned out a bit, then, on a hunch, waited some more. After a time, the tax inspector told the shifter he was going to take advantage of the break with a quick stroll, then secured the bag of gold with a magical lock that would not permit anyone to remove it or take out a single coin. Only prudent, under the circumstances.

  The moment the tax inspector was out of sight, I slid off my stool and approached the booth. The shifter’s eyes narrowed, and his nose began to redden as it twitched at my scent.

  “Good morning,” I said pleasantly, sliding into the booth. “I’ve come to pay my yearly dues. My name is Shelton.”

  “Why did you wait until the tax inspector was gone?” The shifter arched an eyebrow, suspicion lurking in his gaze.

  I shrugged. “I do wonder how a shifter would consent to work for the Mages Guild,” I said, reaching into my purse and pulling out three coins. “Mark them on the list as the tax for Ackleberry Farm.” I slid them across the table to him, and he sniffed.

  “Blast it,” he growled, leaning over to open the window next to us. “That perfume you’re wearing is killing my nose. Why in Recca are you wearing that disgusting stuff?”

  I gave him a sheepish look. “I have a certain…lady friend…who gave it to me as a present, and she’d be hurt if I failed to use it. She was to meet me here at the inn for breakfast this morning.”

  “A human?” The shifter’s eyebrows shot high up on his head. “I would consider that strange, if not for the fact that this is a human town. What’s stranger is that you’re living in it, well away from any other wolf shifters.”

  “I had a falling out with my clan,” I said calmly, not willing to let him shift the conversation in my direction. “No doubt you have strained relations with yours, too, if you are so willing to throw your lot in with the
mages.”

  The hyena let out a deep sigh. “There aren’t that many jobs for shifters where I come from,” he said, “and especially not hyenas. There are too few of us in the Federation to even have clans, and the other ones don’t really like working with us. Can you blame me for doing whatever I have to, to make ends meet?” A tinge of bitterness seeped into his tone.

  “Of course not,” I said, filling my voice with sympathy even as I filed away this information about hyenas. I wondered if the average shifter knew this—the hyena didn’t seem suspicious about my ignorance on the subject. “And I suppose you kill two birds with one stone—putting money in your pocket and helping the Guild weed out potential Resistance members in hiding.”

  The shifter snorted. “So you know why I’m here, then.”

  “It is easy enough for anyone with a modicum of sense to figure out,” I said mildly. “I understand the need to put food on your table, but have you not considered how you might be ruining the lives of anyone who pays in illegal coin? With so much of it circulating these days, it is not as though everyone using it is actually guilty.”

  The hyena shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me,” he said, fingering the coins I’d given to him. He placed them in the sack, marked the payment on the list, and slid a receipt and another form over to me from the stack on the table. “Says here Ackleberry Farm recently changed hands. If you have time to question me about my morals, then you have time to fill this out.”

  Hiding a scowl, I quickly filled out the form, then bid the shifter good day.

  Leaving a few coins on the bar to cover my tab, I strode out of the inn, feeling irrationally guilty and apprehensive. Sunaya and I had first suggested using shifters to sniff out the illegal coins. At the time, when our sole focus had been hunting down Thorgana and stopping the Resistance, it had seemed like an excellent idea. But now that the lives of these harmless humans were at risk, I wished we had never brought it up. This day would only end in tragedy—the families Marris’s little band of forgers had gifted their gold to would all fail the hyena’s inspection, and they would be arrested. It was a miracle it had not happened yet, but then the day was still young.

  By the Lady, I thought, my stomach churning. I could just imagine the shock and despair those poor people would go through—people who had been unable to pay their taxes despite all their hard work, who had thought their prayers had been miraculously answered, only to find out that the gold landed them into even deeper trouble than if they hadn’t paid their taxes to begin with. It was one thing to be delinquent with taxes and forfeit one’s farm, and quite another to be accused of being part of the Resistance. I could not see this ending well for anyone.

  Warning Marris would do no good at this point. It wasn’t as if he could go around and switch all that gold out for real coin. Yet any direct interference on my part might reveal I had magic. This disaster was not of my making; I owed these humans nothing. It would be more sensible, and far safer, to go home and forget all about it. With any luck, the mages would not sweep up all the neighbors and associates of the culprits when the whole story came out.

  But the tight clenching of my gut told me I could not simply step away without trying to help. I would never forgive myself for such cowardice. I left my horse tied to the post and walked through the town instead. I barely noticed my surroundings, and it was an effort to acknowledge the other townsfolk who greeted me with smiles and curious looks. Was keeping my secret, and saving my ancient hide, worth letting a dozen families be torn apart by the mage government? Marris and his friends had meant well; neither they nor their unwitting neighbors deserved the penalty they would suffer. I could not have foreseen that my suggestion to use shifters to authenticate money would lead to innocent humans paying the price. But if I stood by now and did nothing, then I would be guilty.

  At bottom, the situation was not so dissimilar from the case over which I’d lost my career, my life as a powerful mage. I might be Fenris now, and a fugitive, but that did not mean I had to be craven. And deep down, I also felt an ignoble desire to thwart the mage officials any way I could, to make fools of the forces who hunted and condemned me.

  Relieved to have resolved my doubts, I strode back into the inn. The mage had not yet come back, and the shifter was still seated toward the back of the dining hall, idly playing with his pen. He must have dispatched any other taxpayers in the interim, for the place was nearly empty.

  With a flick of my hand, I hit him with a strong sleeping spell, and he slumped forward in his seat, already snoring. At the same moment, I caused a tray sitting on a serving table across the room to crash to the floor, sending bits of broken dishes everywhere. As the wait staff scrambled to clean up the mess and all the guests and taxpayers turned to see what was going on, I hurried to the tax inspector’s table. As fast as only a shifter could manage, I levitated the sleeping shifter up the nearby stairs that led to the guest rooms on the first floor. I kept my body in between the shifter and the staircase so that, hopefully, nobody could see us clearly for the few instants that mattered.

  By the time I came back downstairs, unnoticed as far as I could tell, the hyena shifter was comfortably lying on an unused guest room in the inn, where he would sleep for a good three hours. If anybody came into the room, they would be unable to wake him until the sleeping spell ran its course.

  I was about to take a seat at the bar again and order more coffee when the tax inspector strode back in, looking refreshed from his stroll in the spring sunshine. The relaxed expression on his face dissipated instantly when he laid eyes on the abandoned booth, and the sack of gold sitting there in full view, without anything guarding it other than his lock spell.

  “What is the meaning of this?” He looked around angrily. “Where did my assistant go?”

  I held in a snort—I doubted the hyena had been paid half as well as he would have been if he were a true “assistant.” “I’m afraid he’s run off,” I said, drawing the mage’s attention to me. “He probably decided the job wasn’t worth the pittance you were paying him.”

  The mage rewarded me with a frosty glare. “Is that so? In that case, seeing as you are the only other shifter here, you shall have to take his place.”

  I stiffened, pretending outrage. “Me? I don’t work for you, and certainly not for some paltry sum.”

  The tax mage clenched his jaw. “All taxpayers are obliged to help out if ordered to. And I’ll double the fee, considering the short notice.” He gestured to the booth. “Hurry up. There will be more people coming soon.”

  Hiding a smile, I did as the tax inspector ordered, taking the hyena’s place. We sat in awkward silence for the next ten minutes, but gradually people began to drip in again, bearing their forms and purses of money. They seemed surprised, and even wary, to see me sitting next to the tax inspector, but they did not say anything and simply handed over their payment. I sniffed all the coins dutifully. To my relief, most of them were the genuine article.

  “Good morning, sir,” an elderly woman warbled as she approached the booth. She looked like a stiff wind could knock her over, and as she extended her gnarled hand, two shiny new gold coins in her palm, I didn’t even have to lean in to know that the coins she held had not a trace of magic on them.

  I took the coins from her. When she handed the tax inspector her form, I leaned close to sniff them. Under the cover of my hand and nose, I quickly changed the coins to copper, then back to gold, before putting them in the sack. The transformation would leave enough magical residue on the metal that they would pass for genuine mage-created coins, and with any luck, the tax inspector wouldn’t notice what I was doing.

  The woman moved on, and over the next two hours, I caught eight more townspeople paying with illegal gold. With each coin I changed, I grew more annoyed with Marris for putting these people at risk. He had not thought this plan through, and could have precipitated tragedies. By the time he came through the line, with a cocky grin on his face, it took an effort not to glare a
t him. Shock flashed in his eyes as he handed me his gold and saw me sniff it, but I kept my face inscrutable. I would not reveal, in front of the tax inspector, that the two of us were friends. And though questions burned in his gaze as his mind put two and two together, he was not stupid enough to ask them here.

  “Well, well,” the tax inspector said hours later, when the last name had been ticked off the list, leaning back in the booth. There was a look of pleasant surprise on his face. “This is the best turnout we’ve had for Abbsville in years. There are usually at least five families who cannot pay up.” He turned in his seat to face me. “I suppose you are relieved that none of the families came here empty-handed.”

  I kept my expression blank. “I don’t have a particular allegiance to humans, but yes, I prefer not to watch my neighbors suffer.”

  Before the tax inspector could say more, the hyena shifter stormed down the stairs. I had to hide a grin at the thunderous expression on his face—his clothes were rumpled, and he was smoothing down his hair, which was sticking up every which way.

  “Did you have a nice nap?” the tax inspector said in a deceptively soft voice as the shifter approached. It was obvious to anyone who looked that the hyena had been sleeping—there were lines on his cheek from where his face had been pressed into the pillow.

  “That was no nap,” the hyena hissed, his dark eyes gleaming with banked rage. “Someone put a sleeping spell on me!”

  The inspector’s eyes narrowed. “I find that hard to believe, considering I am the only mage in this inn. Are you suggesting I did such a thing?”

  “Of course not,” the hyena sputtered. “But…” His gaze landed on me, and he bared his teeth. “This wolf was preaching at me how I shouldn’t help ruin the lives of innocent townsfolk. He must have done it.”