A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (Volume 1) Paperback

by Mitchell Hogan

  William’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he nodded once, not pleased at all. He swallowed a few times.

  “Well – ahem – then I will without delay outline the grievance I am bringing to you today.”

  “Please do.”

  “A number of weeks ago it came to my attention that the property on Cuttlefish Street would be coming up for sale.” He stopped to wipe his brow with his handkerchief. “Through my agents, I was able to verbally secure possession of the warehouse from the owner, and the exchange of title for a sum of ducats was only a formality to be carried out in due course, once all details had been agreed to by both parties.”

  Vasile found his head tilting forward in boredom at William’s words. Another squabble over a property title, and no doubt a lot of hearsay and ‘He said, they said’ was on the horizon. He rubbed tired eyes.

  “However,” William continued, “the day we were to exchange title and ducats, we found a different situation. To my amazement, this man’s company,” he glared at Quiss, “had somehow taken possession of the property and title, and the previous owner had packed up and left for parts unknown. As you can see, there was no alternative for me other than to bring this case to the magistrates, who I am sure will deliberate the matter and come to the obvious and satisfactory conclusion.”

  Vasile looked up. “Indeed, we will come to a conclusion.” He saw William smile, assuming the matter was all but settled. As with all the nobles, he thinks they’ve a right to trample over the less fortunate. But in this case, maybe he has something.…

  “Does the representative of the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern have anything to say?” asked Vasile.

  The tall man took a step forward. “My name is Luphildern Quiss, and I am by position and aptitude a head trader for the company.” His voice was incongruously firm and melodic.

  “An odd name. I don’t recognize the provenance.”

  “Indeed, many of the company’s senior shareholders originate from a small city quite a way inland. You would not have heard of it.” He spread his hands self-depreciatingly. “The property in question also came to our attention, much as it did to House Voltain, and for reasons he has stated we were also interested in purchasing the title. Alas for William, our offer was accepted over his by the owner, due to it being substantially higher.”

  “That’s outrageous,” interjected William. “The owner was adamant he would not accept another offer, and our verbal agreement was binding.”

  Interesting, thought Vasile. Both were telling the truth, but as he knew all too well, you could speak what you thought was the truth and not be correct.

  “Sir William, you believe the owner agreed to sell you the property no matter what other offers were made.”

  “Yes,” came the reply. Truth.

  “And Sir Quiss, you state the owner did in fact sell to your company for a price substantially above Sir Voltain.”

  “That is correct.” Truth again.

  “So the owner must have changed his mind and accepted the higher offer.”

  “I simply cannot believe this happened,” exclaimed William. “The man had a longstanding relationship with my family, and we had both mutually benefited from many business deals. He would not have changed his mind without some coercion.” Truth again.

  “Ah,” exclaimed Vasile. “You are accusing the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern of bringing pressure to bear on the owner in some manner that he felt he had no choice but to accept their offer or suffer dire consequences?”

  William nodded. “That is my belief, yes.” Truth again.

  “And where is your proof?”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I believe that you believe you are correct. But I am yet to be convinced what you believe is actually the truth and that you have proof of said facts, do you follow me?”

  “I do, yes… ahem…” William coughed into his handkerchief. “Unfortunately, all I have to go on is the actions of the owner before and after the event, and my own feelings as to the situation.”

  “I see,” said Vasile. He turned to the trader. “And you, Sir Quiss, do you deny any such underhanded maneuvering on the part of your company?”

  “I most certainly do, and I object in the strongest possible terms that Sir William would suggest such a thing without being able to prove his claims.”

  Vasile paused. Sir Quiss was lying.

  On the surface, there wasn’t anything Vasile could do. The deal was sealed and the previous owner uncontactable. All William Voltain and his house lost was a business opportunity, which he was sure they had plenty of. Why would Quiss be lying about the method of obtaining the property? And why would his company need to resort to such measures? He decided to probe a little more.

  “The warehouse itself, Sir Voltain, you said it is on Cuttlefish Street, correct?”

  “Yes, across from the docks, a prime position.”

  “But there is nothing else remarkable about it, apart from the location?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “And, Sir Quiss, there is nothing else that would have made the property essential to your company acquiring it?”

  “No.”

  Interesting, a lie.

  “Gentlemen,” interrupted the attendant, “I am afraid we are out of time for today.” He gestured to the dimness of the room, which had visibly increased since the case had started, and the other petitioners, who had been waiting all day, reluctantly filing out the door.

  Vasile shifted his weight in his chair again. “Tomorrow morning I expect both of you here, as soon as the building opens for the day.”

  Sir Voltain nodded curtly and took a step away from Sir Quiss before giving him a disapproving look and turning on his heel. He hurried across the emptying room.

  Sir Quiss had a smile on his face. “Good day,” he said to Vasile before he too turned and, with an unhurried walk, exited the building.

  It was late evening. Vasile sat at a table alone, elbows resting on the surface, careful to avoid the spilled puddle of wine in front of him. Although he had downed a drink or two more than was advisable, the puddle hadn’t been made by him, but by a drunk patron who decided he needed to talk to Vasile. After Vasile pointedly ignored him, the man had left and, the inn being the place it was, the puddle remained.

  Smoke filled the air, irritating his eyes, which were red-rimmed and watery. The smell of sour beer, wine and puke mingled to create an unpleasant aroma. A few oil lamps around the walls did little to brighten the room. The main source of heat came from a stone fireplace burning peat. Although it was late, there were two men deep in conversation at a table, while at another three men had been playing cards for some time.

  Vasile gazed into his cup, which had a few mouthfuls of cheap wine left. He fished out his brass timepiece, a gift from his wife, careful not to look at the inscription inside when he opened it. Sixth hour of the night. Dawn was five or so hours away. He knew he should have left a while ago but couldn’t bring himself to go home to an empty room. Clicking back the cover, he slipped the watch into his pocket and swirled the dregs of wine in the cup. He should leave the wine and go home. Really he should. But knowing and doing were two different things.

  A blurred shadow appeared on the table, flickering in the dim light. Vasile looked up to register a thin middle-aged man in gray wool clothing, a serious look on his ruddy, bearded face. Despite the quality clothes, he had a rough look about him, a hardness.

  “Vasile Lauris,” the man said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Good evening. I am afraid you have the better of me, sir…?”

  Without asking for permission, the man pulled over a stool and sat opposite Vasile. He dropped four copper ducats on the table. A moment later a serving girl arrived bearing two cups of wine, which she unceremoniously dumped in front of him and scooped up the coins.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” the stranger said, pushing one of the cups towards Vasile. “The house red. We believe it is your drin
k of choice these days.”

  Vasile hesitated. He made it a point never to drink so much he couldn’t function the next day, and one more wine would put him close to the edge. But a free drink was a free drink.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  The man shook his head. “Names can be dangerous to know, and I prefer to remain anonymous.”

  Vasile scratched his head, shrugged, and picked up the cup. “To your health,” he said and took a sip. “So, who is the ‘we’ you mentioned?”

  “They said you were sharp, though I have to admit, in your current state, I thought you wouldn’t be thinking too clearly.”

  “What’s wrong with my current state,” protested Vasile.

  “Why nothing, nothing at all.” The man looked around the room, as if searching for something.

  Vasile started to feel edgy. This man is acting decidedly odd.

  “Let me get straight to business,” the man continued. “I am a representative of the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern. We believe there is a case you are currently undertaking in your responsibilities as a magistrate, whereby the good name of our company is being besmirched by the petty and unwarranted grievances of William Voltain.” He stopped, as if uttering such a long speech was foreign to him. His cup of wine was in one hand, but he hadn’t sipped from it, even to wet his lips.

  “And if I am? I’m unable to discuss any….particulars of petitions… with strangers… especially when they claim to represent one of the parties… without offering any substan – substantiation of such a claim.”

  Vasile slurred a couple of words but thought on the whole he had done well. Couldn’t these people leave him alone? There would be plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow when he wouldn’t be in his cups and was thinking a little straighter.

  The man’s expression remained impassive. “I will be forthright with you. My company is concerned about the damage this case has done, and may continue to do, to our reputation. We believe that a quick resolution in our favor is the best outcome, and in return for such we are prepared to offer substantial compensation. You see,” he leaned in closer to emphasize his point, “this case doesn’t benefit anyone, even William Voltain, although he would disagree. We want to see as little damage done to us and to good William as possible. What is the harm in that?”

  He drew a bulging purse out and placed it on the table. Coins jingled.

  Vasile eyed it. “A bribe, is it?”

  After the lies today in the magistrates’ building, and the half lies this man was spouting, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be mixed up in this case.

  “No. Compensation for services rendered. We all want the same thing. Justice for the wronged, swiftly and firmly delivered. Trifling cases such as this one shouldn’t be taking up your time, especially when it is evident William Voltain is upset he was bested in a business deal.”

  Vasile knew this wasn’t right and he should say something, but his mind was fuddled with drink.

  “Compensation?” he managed. “To dismiss the case?”

  “To have the correct judgment swiftly delivered tomorrow morning, so you can move on to weightier matters. Like cows and such.” The stranger smiled.

  Vasile’s blood rose and his cheeks felt hot. He stood up abruptly, knocking his stool over behind him.

  “I will not take your ducats,” he said through clenched teeth. “Keep your coins and get out. I do not take kindly to being called corrupt.”

  The man remained still, looking up at him. “My pardon, Vasile, it was our understanding that you were in a position to take such a generous offer. Indeed, it is our understanding you might be in need of some ducats, what with your fall from grace and your house in such disrepair.”

  Vasile went redder and felt his blood boiling in his ears. He shoved the purse back at the man.

  “Leave now. You know nothing about me. How can you know me? My home and my position are no concern of yours.”

  “I think you should reconsider.”

  “No. Get out.”

  The man grimaced, collected the purse and stood. “So be it. We are not left with any choice.” He nodded to Vasile. “Good evening, then.” He turned and walked out of the inn, leaving Vasile fuming and wound as tight as his watch.

  He rubbed his face with both hands. By the emperor, he seethed. What’s going on?

  It began as every day at the magistrates’ building Vasile could remember. An aching head from the night before. Too bright light streamed in from the windows. His attendant poured a mug of water, which Vasile gulped as if he had spent a day in the desert. Petitioners filed in after their wait outside, and the low murmur of their chatter started to build.

  Vasile coughed into his fist repeatedly and wished he hadn’t accepted the free cup of wine last night. Wished the whole sordid episode hadn’t happened. He closed his eyes to rest them for a moment and found he wanted to keep them shut. A few moments more, he thought and listened to people moving around the room, clothes rustling and boots scraping the rough-cut stone floor.

  “First order of business today,” the attendant intoned too loudly for Vasile’s liking. “Continuation of the petition of William Voltain against the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern.”

  Vasile opened his eyes to find the innocuous Luphildern Quiss standing tall in front of him next to the attendant. Of William Voltain there was no sign.

  “Ahem… Magistrate Lauris,” said the attendant. “Sir Voltain is not here…er…”

  “Yes, I can see that,” snapped Vasile. He winced at the pain in his head and took a deep breath. “We’ll wait for him to arrive. No doubt he has been delayed in the morning crowd.”

  The attendant nodded, as did Quiss. Such a calm, inoffensive man, thought Vasile. He had to be party to the deeds of last night, surely. Or maybe he wasn’t. Perhaps his superiors acted without informing him. All these complications made his head hurt worse.

  They waited for a few minutes. Vasile checked his pocket watch. They waited a few more. The attendant shifted his weight and looked at Vasile, as did Quiss. Vasile pointedly ignored them. More time passed.

  The flat voice of Quiss broke into Vasile’s thoughts. “Magistrate Lauris, we have been waiting quite some time. I believe this demonstrates the lack of importance Sir Voltain places on this matter. He has no proof of any misdeeds on our part, and his lack of appearance today shows he knows his petition will not be decided in his favor.”

  “Really?” responded Vasile. “I actually have a few more questions for both of you.”

  A fleeting look of surprise crossed Quiss’s face, to be quickly replaced by curiosity. Quiss gave a short bow. “I will be happy to answer any questions you have once Sir Voltain arrives.”

  During this exchange, a messenger hurried up to the attendant, who conversed with him in hushed tones. The attendant’s mouth opened, and his eyes widened.

  “Magistrate Lauris, the messenger has delivered news of import to the case.”

  Vasile waved a hand. “Go on.”

  “This morning, Sir Voltain did not emerge from his rooms for breakfast,” the attendant said, voice grave. “The household staff, becoming concerned, entered his rooms where they found Sir Voltain dead. He hanged himself from a crossbeam sometime in the night.”

  Vasile dropped his head and put a hand to his forehead. He groaned as the pain in his head doubled in intensity. He could feel the eyes of the attendant and Quiss on him, waiting for a response. Raising his head, he looked towards Quiss, whose face was composed, bland even. But Vasile saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly in the suggestion of a smile. The words of the stranger last night echoed in his thoughts. So be it. We are not left with any choice.

  Complications like this he could do without. He would need to proceed with caution.

  Gripping the arms of his chair hard, he spoke. “Due to these unfortunate circumstances, the petition brought by Sir Voltain has no sponsor. As such, it is my duty to inform you the petition has been suspended. If
another sponsor appears to take up the petition, then the case will recommence.” He stopped, considered what to say next.

  “Luphildern Quiss, you have heard my pronouncement and are free to leave.”

  The representative of the Five Oceans Mercantile Concern looked straight at Vasile and raised his eyebrows. “Such unfortunate news,” he said. “Who would have thought Sir Voltain would be overcome by the misfortunes of his… fortune? Still, I am pleased with the outcome for my company, however the verdict was reached.”

  “The petition is not dismissed, merely suspended. Another sponsor from House Voltain may desire to continue with it sometime in the future.”

  Quiss shrugged. “I’m confident they will see where their best interests lie in the matter. This whole episode has inconvenienced all of us, some more than others.”

  Vasile knew he was telling the truth, and his heart beat faster. “Inconvenienced is a mild word for a death.”

  “I can offer no more to someone who was a stranger to me. Misfortune or death can come upon someone so quickly these days, choices one makes which may seem reasonable and appropriate at the time can lead to unforeseen consequences.” He gave a quick smile. “But I am sure we won’t be seeing each other again, Magistrate Lauris. Good day.” He turned on his heel and walked away through the crowd.

  Vasile took a few deep breaths, heart racing.

  The attendant stared at the back of the departing trader, then shook himself and addressed Vasile. “That was cold of him. He could have at least feigned some sorrow or sympathy for Sir Voltain.”

  “Yes…well… these merchant types only care if it involves ducats.” Vasile swallowed. “Gold is worth more to them than the life of another person.”

  From all the lies told yesterday, Vasile was sure the face of the petition presented to him was not the whole story. What secret was so important they would attempt to bribe him, and when that failed, kill someone to stop the case in its tracks? The problem was, Vasile wasn’t the type to let something like this rest. He valued the truth more than any man he knew. His talent for telling lies and truth apart made sure of this. And what these people had done to an innocent man to cover their… Vasile paused. They had not committed a crime, as it pertained to the petition brought to him. In fact, in all probability he would have had to rule in their favor. They hadn’t wanted to risk it, or maybe hadn’t wanted closer scrutiny of their dealings and the warehouse. Strong enough to warrant an attempted bribe, and from the looks of things, now a murder.