It did make it easier to get in, at least. She didn’t bother with anything fancy, just uttered the words in the lingua to create a slight magical field. The ancryst visibly reacted, bucking back against the man’s palm; she ended the spell before the stone tumbled out of his hand.
“Good,” he said. “Just remember, don’t try to cast any divinations downstairs. The room is spelled against it. Keeps things anonymous, but we don’t need an alert every time some idiot forgets and tries to shoot his girl a sending.” He rolled his eyes; clearly it had happened more than once. Then the doors opened behind Indree, and he waved her in the direction of the stairs to the basement before turning his attention to the newcomers.
Thank the Astra. She hadn’t been certain that the cowl and badge and her magic would be enough, that they wouldn’t ask her to show her face or try to divine something more about her. But then, anonymity protected them from being sold out to the authorities by anyone with less than total devotion to the cause. Or by an unwelcome interloper, like herself. She’d have a harder time learning anything about them without magic, but they’d have a harder time rooting her out, too.
They were gathering in a large common room downstairs, maybe eighty feet by fifty. The kind of space that might have served to host a music recital or community dance. At least a few hundred figures of varying size packed inside, from towering ogren to hovering sprite, all with cowls over their faces. They were all standing; too crowded for chairs. It was noticeably warmer than the rest of the building, from body heat alone. A low buzz of hushed conversation filled the space, but no single, louder voice taking charge, which Indree took to mean that she hadn’t missed anything yet—it hadn’t begun. Nobody paid her much mind as she joined the throng.
Everyone faced the other side of the room, looking at something, but it was obscured by bodies. Indree didn’t try to budge through, just picked her way around the back of the crowd until she hit the corner of the room, then sidled forward along the wall. She couldn’t shake the sense that unseen eyes were watching her; the cowl limited her peripheral vision, which made it hard to tell if anyone had taken note of her entrance. There’s no reason they would. Just another mask, as far as anyone can tell. But the feeling didn’t go away as she moved closer to the front, looking for a clear sightline.
As she neared the front of the crowd, she saw what everyone was looking at: a raised platform at the end of the room, no more than two feet high. Indree could imagine a band playing up there for a wedding reception or the like. A small table with two chairs behind it sat just below and to the side, not far from the wall where Indree stood. Three cowled figures stood atop the stage, talking amongst each other, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying above the ambient chatter. Organizers of the gathering, obviously, and one above the others—a sturdy, barrel-chested man, likely human by his size and build. A purple stole marked with the Emperor’s staff and crown in gold hung over his plain black shirt, setting him apart from everyone else in the room. The other two clearly deferred to him as he gave some command or other, punctuated by strong, emphatic gestures. He waved them away, and they descended to take seats at the table below, leaving the leader alone up there.
Indree couldn’t look away from him. There’s no way to be sure, but…
The man turned to the crowd, raised his arms, and spoke, his voice amplified by magic just enough to cut through the din. “Knights of the Emperor, attend me and be silent.”
Indree knew that voice.
The aggressive tone of it, the way he spoke like he was cutting off a challenge that hadn’t yet been raised; she knew it instantly and without question. She’d heard it too many times to not know it, and in situations very much like this one, magically enhanced to address a room full of subordinates.
The man on stage was Chief Constable Andus Durren.
Indree couldn’t probe his astral signature here to see if Endo had taken control of him, not with the anti-divination spells active, but she already knew what she’d find. He’s not under anyone’s control. He’s been working against us from the start. She’d had her suspicions, of course, but she’d never been able to verify them for certain. He’d done plenty to obstruct her investigations—and even moreso, Tane and Kadka’s—but he’d always had a plausible political excuse, a way to make self-interest seem at least as likely as actual treason. When she’d noted the lack of patrols in the area before the meeting, though, those suspicions had come back hard and heavy in the pit of her stomach. And then she’d seen him on stage, and she’d felt that weight grow heavier still. The broad, heavy shape of him, the over-exaggerated gestures of command, as if he wanted his hands to be as loud as his voice—it was all too familiar to ignore.
But it was the voice that made her sure, beyond any doubt.
The crowd had quieted at his command, and now Durren’s words boomed too loud in the silence. “For too long have the magicless been allowed to dilute our bloodlines, to control our government, to weaken our nation with their mediocrity. But tonight, it is my great pride to tell you that our long wait is nearly over. We stand on the eve of triumph!” He sliced his arms wide, as if to encompass the whole of creation. “The time of the magical draws near!” The crowd answered by taking up the cry, and Durren nodded approvingly, letting them cheer and shout for a moment before raising his hands for silence again.
He’s enjoying himself, Indree realized. She was glad for the cowl in that moment—it let her hide her disgust. Durren had never much liked any challenge to his authority, but he’d been forced to at least explain his decisions now and again to the constables under him. Here, he was an unquestioned leader, shouting overwrought pronouncements down at an enraptured audience. Endo wouldn’t have needed to use magic to win him over. He wouldn’t have had to do anything but offer this. She was sure of it now—he was acting too much like himself to be anyone’s puppet.
“Tomorrow morning, the signal will sound,” Durren said. “Watch, and listen. You will know it when it comes.” He raised a clenched fist, thrust it into the air. “And when it does, we will take to the streets to tear down this unjust government! Thaless will kneel before the Mage Emperor!”
Another great cheer erupted at that.
Tomorrow. A cold dread moved down Indree’s spine. The peace talks. We were right. Three armies balanced on the edge of a war, the leaders of three nations gathered together in one place. There’s a hundred ways they could end the world as we know it.
Again, Durren basked in the noise for a while before lifting a hand for silence. “Now, to the details. Our brothers here have the meeting points for each district.” He gestured to the table near Indree, where the two knights he’d been talking to earlier sat. “Go to your assigned location when the time comes, and you’ll find your knight-captain, who will give further orders. I know that some of you are here representing your family, or friends, or others who couldn’t be here tonight. Spread the word, and make sure all of our brothers and sisters know where to go. Priority targets will depend on location and circumstance, and your captains will be the ones with that information in the moment, so I expect you to follow orders to the letter. Remember your duty. Everything we do is for the glory of the Emperor.”
“For the Emperor!” the knights cried in answer.
They were still cheering as Durren descended from the stage to stand behind the two cowled figures at the table. The gathered crowd milled and broke up, then, some moving to the table and some heading for the door. Apparently some already knew their place in whatever was happening tomorrow.
But Indree didn’t. Whatever they’re telling people, I want to hear it. She joined the men and women gathering around the table.
For perhaps a quarter hour, she waited, gradually moving toward the front of the line. All around her, men and women conversed easily, as if this was the community gathering it was pretending to be. Many were obviously familiar with one another’s identities, despite the masks. Indree tried not to draw attention
to herself as she listened in, but most of it was inane chatter, nothing she could use.
And then she came to the front, and there was Durren, looking right at her through the eyeholes of his cowl. It took a great effort not to flinch, to try to hide her face, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.
“District?” one of the figures at the table asked her. An elven man; she could see the way his ears made his cowl poke out at the sides of his head. His partner—a human woman under her cowl, if Indree’s assessment was accurate—looked to the next figure in line and asked the same.
Indree lived in Stooketon, but the waterfront would be the closest place to the talks, which were to be held on the neutral ground of the Aquilon—a Rhienni ship in the harbor. That’s where the action was most likely to be. “Porthaven,” she lied, speaking in a higher octave and affecting a slight Anjican accent, like her mother’s. No one would think that out of place—her ancestry was visible in the brown skin on her hands and around her eyes, and a certain segment of immigrants came to Audland specifically because of their intense pro-magical beliefs. She’d known Durren by his voice, and she didn’t want it to be so easy for him to identify her.
He focused on her all the same. “The harbor is going to be the front line,” he said, confirming her guess. “An enviable position.”
Indree couldn’t tell if he’d recognized her or if he was just making conversation. “An honor,” she agreed, keeping it short.
“Indeed.” He continued to study her for a long moment, and then, “I’m glad you appreciate that.” He tapped the elven man on the shoulder. “Let’s keep it moving.”
“Ah, yes. You’ll report to the fish market beside the docks. Do you know the place?”
She’d hoped they might tell her exactly what this signal they were waiting for was, but apparently that was being held back on purpose. “I do,” she said with a nod, and turned to go. Too risky to press for more, now. She didn’t like how long Durren had stared at her. Trying to place my voice? She couldn’t know for sure, but she wasn’t going to take the chance. I know where to find them tomorrow. That’s something. She made for the door and then up the stairs at a measured pace—no need to look as if she was fleeing, though she very much wanted to.
Then, as she reached the top of the stairway, a voice from behind that made her heart lurch in her chest. “You, wait.”
Durren.
She kept walking, tried to act as if she hadn’t heard, or didn’t realize it had been directed at her.
But the big man was waiting at the door, and he stopped her with a hand on the shoulder. “I think he’s talking to you.”
“Me?” Indree affected surprise, maintaining the false voice she’d chosen. When she turned, Durren was already coming up the stairs. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and readied the words of a spell in her mind.
“I’m sorry to hold you up,” Durren said. “I wanted a moment to speak to you away from the crowd.” He glanced at the doorman, who took the hint and gave them some space. Durren took Indree by the arm and led her a few steps further into the main hall, between the pews.
“Is there something I can help with?” Indree asked, fighting to keep her voice steady with a spell balanced on the tip of her tongue. If he makes a move, I need to be fast. I can’t take them all. “Anything for the glory of the Mage Emperor.”
Durren’s voice fell into the soft, ingratiating tone she’d heard him use when speaking to senators and wealthy donors. She could imagine the empty smile he’d be wearing, if she could have seen it through his cowl. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll acquit yourself very well tomorrow, but that isn’t why I stopped you.”
Indree’s pulse quickened. Again she had reason to be thankful for the hood—it hid the cold sweat on her brow. “Can I ask why, then?”
The hand on her arm slid up to her shoulder in a clumsy stroking motion. “I couldn’t help but notice your accent. I’m fascinated by Anjican magical history. I simply wondered if we might… talk about it at length.”
Oh, Astra. Relief came mixed with revulsion so strong that she had to hold back a shudder. He wasn’t staring because he recognized my voice. He’s got other things on his mind.
“I would love to,” she said, “but I have to get home. My husband will be waiting to hear what is expected of us tomorrow.”
“Ah, of course.” But Durren’s hand didn’t move. “Perhaps another time. After our triumph, I shall have to find you. Porthaven, yes? I’m sure your husband won’t object to you taking the time to educate one of the Emperor’s most trusted men.” With his free hand, he touched the purple stole about his neck, clearly trying to draw attention to it. “Tell me where you live, and I will come to you.”
Indree could have gagged, if she hadn’t been trying so hard not to betray her discomfort. Of course he doesn’t care about a husband. He thinks he’s about to be one of the most powerful men in the nation. “Are we allowed to share that?” she asked, playing the awed innocent as best she could. “I thought… we’re not supposed to say who we are.”
Durren waved a dismissive hand. “You needn’t worry about that, my dear. We won’t be hiding ourselves after tomorrow, and until then, you can trust my discretion.”
“Of course,” Indree said. “I didn’t mean to suggest… I’m sorry. We live at 36 Gerar Way.” It was the first place that came to her head, a street of shabby row houses not far from Tane’s office. 36 was actually empty, boarded over after an illegal artifice mishap that had blown the place out and led to a few arrests—but Durren wouldn’t know that. He didn’t pay much attention to the less affluent parts of the city. “Now I really must run. My husband—”
“Yes, yes.” Durren released her at last, apparently satisfied. “By all means, bring the word home. Be ready for tomorrow. I will pay you a visit when the Emperor is seated upon his rightful throne.”
“I look forward to it,” Indree said with forced warmth, and turned for the door.
A moment later, she was out, moving quickly down the street. She didn’t stop to breathe until she was around the corner and out of sight. Spellfire, I can still feel his hand. I’m going to have to scrub that arm off.
But that could wait. More importantly, she had to tell the others what she’d learned.
Whatever Endo had planned for tomorrow, the Knights of the Emperor were ready for it in a way no one else was. It was going to be a fight.
And the constabulary was going to be on the wrong side.
Chapter Seven
_____
KADKA WAS BORED.
She’d hated watching doors since her time in the University guard. Hiding in an alley across the street watching the Stooketon apartment building Oola Hobbier owned wasn’t exactly the same thing, but it was no more exciting. Just another door to watch.
Hobbier had returned there in the early evening, escorted by a guard detail, presumably done with whatever preparations the Rhienni diplomats had needed to make for the peace talks the next day. It was hours after midnight now, and she hadn’t emerged again.
Kadka needed to move her legs. She’d been sitting cross legged on the ground for a long while, and shifting positions every so often was something to do, at least. She stood, stretched her limbs with a soft groan. There was no real risk of being seen or heard—that might have made it more interesting, but it was dark and she was far enough back in the alley that no one glancing out a window was going to notice.
“Is not fair,” she muttered. “Others all had some excitement.” She’d heard back by sending how Indree and Tinga’s nights had turned out some hours before. “And are done already.”
Vladak leaned against the wall nearby—he’d come along as backup. “Not sho bad for thish to be boring, shishter. I’d shooner find thish one’sh not working to stop the peash talksh. Meansh we don’t have to worry about the Rhienni on top of everything elshe.”
“After they find Thorpe’s machine in her warehouse?” Kadka turned to face him and shook her h
ead. “She is part of this. If we don’t catch her, just means we don’t know what part.”
“I know,” Vladak said with a shrug. “But I try to be optomishtic.”
“Is not optimistic to wish to sit here all night.” She grinned toothily at him. “Sign of madness, maybe.”
He chuckled. “You jusht want to be back with your little dragonsh. I don’t blame you.”
“They are asleep, I hope,” Kadka said. “Still, is true. So much I miss already. But is good they have ‘Uncle Vladak’ to play with them when I am gone. And help them with half-orc shapes. Thank you for that.”
“No thanksh needed,” he said. “Never got around to putting a family together, myshelf. I find I like playing with the little onesh.”
“You think you have no family?” Kadka raised an eyebrow. “How long do you know Iskar? And you call me sister from day I meet you. No orc after my mother is ever this kind to me. Syllesk and Nevka already call you uncle. Is not obvious enough?”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sheemsh hard to missh,” Vladak actually blushed, just a bit, and smiled around his tusks. “Can’t say I’d ever have guesshed that I’d be uncle to a pair of dragonsh. Or that dragonsh could be sho… cute.”
Kadka gave an exaggerated sigh. “Is cruel to remind me. Could see cute sleeping dragon faces, but instead I stand here all night. If Hobbier does not come out soon, maybe I go drag her out.”
Vladak didn’t answer; instead, his eyes fixed on something over her shoulder and down the alley. “Looksh like you won’t have to,” he said, and gestured toward the building.
A gnomish woman had just stepped out the door, and it was swinging closed behind her as Kadka swiveled her head to look. The silver-blue light of the mage-lamps outside illuminated the woman’s auburn hair and delicate features.
It was Oola Hobbier.
There was no sign of her security detail, and she looked furtively down the street in both directions before moving, as if making sure she was alone. She was sneaking out.
The Mage War Page 6