PANIX: Magician Spy

by Guy Antibes

  ~~~

  Chapter 7

  The day was bright, but the crispness of the early spring of Panix’s fourth year at Baltac’s still sharpened the midday air. Chimneys and pipes of all sizes and diameters poked out of Baltac’s ever-growing roofs emitting smoke, steam and vapors like a burnt forest just after a fire as Panix entered one of the work’s buildings.

  Deep within the facility, in the research section, a group of men wearing white coats clustered around a workbench. A magician held both of his hands over a bar of metal. His eyes were closed as he moved his hands from end to end.

  “That’s it.” Panix, with his eyes closed, sensed the assistant aligning the grains to keep the crystalline structure small and elongated. Panix opened his eyes, “It looks nearly as good as the prototypes I’ve done.”

  “Yes, sir,” the assistant said, smiling. The assistant magician then looked at the laboratory manager, Fennel Derrac, for more approval. Panix didn’t like the smug smile Fennel returned to the assistant.

  The smile brought back the words Foald had told him on the day he was hired. It only takes three to create politics. Fennel was the third person. Panix constantly corrected the man’s reports and cleared up constant misunderstandings that Fennel brought up to Foald behind Panix’s back.

  Panix shook off his feelings and lifted the alloy bar and wondered what would be the best shape for the ingots so the magicians could shape products from them. The assistant looked at Fennel, then at Panix. It was plain the man belonged to Fennel and not to him.

  Nevertheless, Panix clapped Fennel on the shoulder as a sign of congratulations and left the laboratory. He was anxious to return to his office and read a recently-received letter.

  He looked at the ground as he walked, deep in thought about the communication from his sister. He knew that Moshin offered to spend more time at his father’s gravesite. Had Moshin finally found out the truth about their father’s death? As he hurried across the brick-paved yard towards the new two-story administration building of the Baltac Metallurgical Works, he nearly bumped into Lorna Baltac.

  “Watch where you’re going, Gavid,” Lorna said, holding the reins of her horse. It seemed she always came to the factory after a ride on her favorite horse. She just stood there, ready for a confrontation. She folded her arms, shook out her shoulder-length brown hair and bored into him with her green eyes.

  He sighed. Not another argument with her. Lorna seemed to always find one more nit to complain to him about. She hadn’t lost her desire to be in charge of the works, a position that required the magic she lacked and Panix knew she continually tried to get her father to appoint her as his successor.

  She had just graduated from University of Pent with an advanced First in engineering. Every time he offered to help her, she relented for a bit, until she learned what she needed and then turned on him again. She was an angry young woman and he was equally convinced she took her frustrations out on him. He found himself glad she had graduated, so there’d be no more of those strange sessions with her.

  “I don’t have the time, Lorna. I’ve got to get to my office immediately.” He nodded his head as he stepped past her, leaving her gaping after him.

  In his office, he shut the door with a wave of his hand. He rubbed his dark, close-cropped hair as he walked behind his desk. He sat down in his chair and swiveled it left to right to left, not taking his gray eyes off the letter in the center of his desk. The letter had arrived on his messaging coin just before he left for the development lab.

  The Academy had just developed messaging coins. Teleportation of people was extremely expensive and exhausted the magician invoking the talent. Messaging coins were a different matter. A magician enchanted two coins or other objects and linked them so a letter or other small item could be teleported from one to the other after a magician spoke a simple spell. Anything more than the weight of a few pages and the effort drained the magician invoking the transfer. Panix and his sister used a pair of prototypes.

  He unsealed his sister’s wax mark and began to read:

  “Dearest Panix,

  Your fears have been confirmed. Your old friend Moshin returned from Helvanna with a little bit of Father. He followed your instructions and easily found the marker you enhanced. I underestimated my reaction to a bit of Father’s hair and the dried skin of his scalp when I opened the little box that held the fragment. I dared not ask how he did it. He gave me another of those enigmatic smiles. I suppose his skills at some things haven’t declined since he left the Intelligence service.

  I took the fragment to the Dean, here at the Academy. I am useless when it comes to this type of magic. After changing hands of a few of our brightest magicians, the fragment finally found a boy with the proper talent for this kind of thing, a student of all people, who could determine how Father died. The technique is called the Last Minutes.

  There was no sickness that killed him as Polla has claimed all these years. The death was sudden. Life to death took less than ten seconds. The only conclusion to reach is that father died a violent death in Helvanna. The disease story to keep his corpse closed in the casket from infecting others was a fabrication. I don’t know how to approach Polla on this.

  I know—”

  Panix crumpled the paper in his fist. His father had been murdered and this proved it. A fierce mixture of anger and anguish welled up from inside his body and radiated outward. The desk shook and rose an inch off the floor. The volumes in the bookcases shook. Taking a deep breath, he held it, picturing a bright light in the middle of his brain. He lost himself in that spot for a few seconds. The centering trick continued to be useful as everything settled down in his office as he exhaled slowly.

  He opened the balled up letter, spread it out and finished reading. It contained no more information about the death of his father, but the wonderful news she was going to have a second child.

  That she found someone who could detect his father’s final minutes astounded him. She told him that Moshin wanted to see him and would be teleported from the Academy to Pent.

  An assassination? No other alternative made sense. But why would did his stepmother lie about it? Her behavior didn’t entirely surprise Panix at the action, but he didn’t have a clue as to the motive. Certainly she wouldn’t have done it herself since her income stream decreased significantly after his father died. Aston barely made a copper eagle in his futile pursuit of a political career.

  He remembered back to when Merra and he found his father’s real resting place, four and a half years ago. Panix felt the circumstance didn’t fit any kind of context he could see. Could Polla have been in on it? Could she have been covering up for someone or something? Undoubtedly, the woman lacked the kind of imagination that would come up with such a story. Aston in on it? It would not surprise him, either, but neither would have the ability or knowledge to do it on their own, they could only be accomplices.

  No one had enough information to move forward. Panix still felt the frustration that led to his loss of control and knew his emotions did nothing to help.

  Moshin, Panix mused, prompted him six months ago to think back to that dreaded day, for he must have found out something that happened much more recently to bring it up after all these years.

  He sighed and rose from his desk. He took his cloak from a hook recently made out of his new alloy and left. The day had mercifully ended for Panix Gavid and he left his office.

  He walked along the streets of the city of Pent to his townhome, unlocking the door and stepping in. After all this time, he still couldn’t shake off the emptiness he felt each time he entered the house. Although he didn’t like practicing too much magic outside of his work, he liked a lot of light where he lived. Gaslights had originally been plumbed into his house, but he didn’t like the way the illumination would waver, especially when everyone in his area used their gaslights in the evenings and the gas pressure became uneven. Panix snapped his fingers and airlights appeared in every room.
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br />   He had the letter in his hand for another reading as soon has he hung up his cloak and, pouring himself a glass of wine, Panix sat in his favorite chair to reread the letter, looking, but not finding, any nugget he might have missed before.

  He laid the letter in his lap and closed his eyes, trying to remember what his father looked like. It became harder to draw his image into his mind. He took down his father’s picture and looked at the inn. He imagined standing in front of the inn with Merra.

  A lost father, a ruined marriage, works problems. What would his life be like if his father still lived? What kind of grandfather would he be for the children Panix didn’t have? He now doubted the wisdom of leaving the Academy and escaping from the envy and hatred seething within its enchanted walls? Could it be worse than the emptiness he now felt?

  At least he would enjoy seeing Moshin again. Too much time had passed since he last saw his mentor. Corlee deserved a reply so sitting at his desk, he wrote a letter to her explaining that he felt the same shock and sorrow she felt. Panix told her it was like the opening of an old wound. He ended the letter by congratulating her on the prospects of yet another magician. He sealed it and pulled the enchanted Korvannan coin out of the desk drawer and placed it on his desk. He laid the letter on it and whispered a few words. The letter had disappeared and now existed in Corlee’s study.

  Every time he sent a letter, he felt a little thrill. Innovative uses of magic excited him because although technology might be eclipsing magic in the world, there were still innovations in magic yet to be discovered.

  ~

  Five days later, Panix entered the Summer’s Wilt with Harlan. He thought that Moshin and his engineering friend would like each other. The day felt leaden with cold showers mixed with snow while winter still tried to retain its grasp on Pent. Panix pulled off his winter hat and shook the water and slush off as he entered the tavern.

  Massive gas-lit chandeliers lit the many tables day and night at the Summer’s Wilt, just down the road from the his office at Baltac’s. Sawdust littered the floor as the workers tracked in dirt and grit from the works and the material would be swept up and replaced every day.

  Moshin Twent sat with his back to the wall of a table far from the door. Panix expected no less from his old friend.

  “Don’t look so dour, Panix, my boy.” Moshin smiled and raised his hand. “Barkeep!” then he said to Panix, “Those gray eyes need a little life behind them.” A smiling woman came by the table. “An ale for my friends and another for me!” Moshin’s hair showed a bit more salt than pepper since the last time Panix saw him. The cold weather brought out his ruddy complexion, contrasting sharply with his almost-white beard.

  “This is Harlan Gannoc. He’s my counterpart at Baltac’s, he does engineering where I do magic.”

  Harlan shook Moshin’s hand with both of his. “Panix has told me a lot about you, including your latest discovery about his father’s death.”

  Moshin’s smile suddenly vanished. “Shocking news, isn’t it?”

  “Shocking doesn’t quite describe quite how I feel.” Panix controlled his emotions. He was upset with himself for losing so much control when he had read the letter. Pent had been a refuge to get away from the pressures that were sure to assault him at the Academy, yet it had turned into a city of loneliness and his melancholy, and would be getting worse if not for Harlan’s friendship.

  “The reason I brought all of this up in the first place is that I always felt that someone assassinated Rennis. Just like we talked about when you were at the Academy, there was no outbreak of the fever that killed him in the district where he was buried. In fact, there has never been a case reported at any other time in White Water.”

  “I told you that the young man, who was a servant at the inn, suspected as much,” Panix said as he sat on the edge of his seat.

  “There was another assassination in Helvanna, just like your father’s, six months ago. Same kind of thing, an upcoming Gerellian Councilor gaining in reputation is called to Helvanna and is…” Moshin drew his thumb across his throat. “This time no one questioned the death or the method—a glass-encrusted garrote. Only weeks ago, the owner of a Korvannan firm duplicating Murgontinan steam engines died in the same way. I think they’re connected.“

  “So the Murgontians have openly killed someone in the Korvannan capital with the signature weapon of the Murgontian Assassin Guild?” said Harlan.

  “You know a bit, don’t you lad?” Moshin nodded to Harlan and then turned to Panix. “Your father’s body wasn’t too far gone for me to notice the damage at his throat—“

  “Tell me no more of my father’s body.” Panix grasped Moshin’s forearm. “It’s enough to know…“ Panix centered himself immediately, knowing he was in a public place. “I can imagine what his body looked like. How did you get it exhumed?”

  “It wasn’t too hard. White Water is a small village and I easily found the gravesite. Helvanna continues to get poorer and poorer the more they mimic Murgontia.”

  “I won’t disagree. I’ve read that even the shepherds who sold wool to my father now have to sell all of their output to the government and the bureaucrats have found ways of coming up with regulations that restrict all kinds of commerce with Korvanna. Father would probably be rolling over in his grave if he knew.” Panix caught himself with mention of his father. He searched for a way to change the subject. “Why are you here?”

  “I have a little proposition for you, lad,” Moshin said. He looked at Harlan. “This is between Panix and me, if you don’t mind.” Moshin made an apologetic look.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Panix.” Harlan shook Moshin’s hand. “Nice meeting you, sir. I read all I can about spycraft and politics, Panix, here, made me an addict. It’s been a real pleasure to meet you.”

  Moshin watched Harlan leave and turned back to look Panix in the eyes. “A smart young man and I can see he’s a good friend for you.”

  Panix nodded and pursed his lips. “He’s helped me with, uh, my personal life.”

  Moshin snorted and then took a drink. “Way back when, I always knew you were as smart as your magic was powerful and I told some folks about you. My contacts in the Korvannan Intelligence Institute would like you to work for them. They think that Murgontia is ripe to do something stupid and you are ideally situated to observe what’s going on.”

  “Me, an agent? I can hardly be an undercover spy working for the KII. I don’t have the training or the temperament, unlike the old fart that sits in front of me.” Panix smiled as Moshin laughed.

  Moshin’s face turned serious. “You can learn, Panix. Things are stirring down in Murgontia. I can feel it in these old bones and they feel it in Korvanna. I’m convinced it’s linked to the assassinations and I’m convinced it has to do with protecting the technology edge they have over Korvanna. Murgontia is going to make some moves now that winter is over.”

  “There’s nothing I can do, Moshin. I’m up here in Pent. You can tell whoever requested you ask me, that the answer is no.” Despite the funk Panix felt, he remained eager to see his new alloy developed and introduced to all of Dornna. There wasn’t time in his life for a hobby to help the KII while they sat in their comfortable offices in Mella.

  “I thought that’s what you’d say. I actually didn’t come up all the way to Pent just to see you. I’ll be in Bentonnia for a few months conducting preliminary magician assessments for the Academy. When I come back through, we’ll have another talk. I’ll leave you with one little tidbit of information. There are rumors that a high level Pentish official is in the pay of the Murgontians and that his initials are B.B.”

  “I have no information one way or another. I withdrew from Pent’s social circles some time ago and stay as far away from ‘B.B.’ as possible.” Panix looked up at a chandelier. He felt a darkness clutch at his heart. He clamped his lips shut and looked back at Moshin.

  “If you change your mind in the meantime, look up Quill Vent.”

 
; “I knew a Quill Vent. We went through military school together, but I didn’t know he was in the KII and in Pent?” Panix remembered Vent as a lazy student.

  “He’s your old friend, all right. Quill arrived here in last fall. I don’t think he’s had too much to do and that’s just fine with the KII. But I’ll leave word with him that you’ve an open invitation. Panix, the invitation is from the head of the KII herself. She feels your involvement may be a key to knowing what’s going on in Murgontia.”

  Panix sat back in his seat. So this wasn’t some casual conversation. “The answer is still no.” He was desperate to change the subject. “Now, how is my sister doing?”

  Moshin peered into Panix’s eyes and then sighed. “As well as one can be, learning that their father was murdered and that she’s pregnant. Her mind is astir with conflicting emotions In that, you and Corlee are alike, but she has her husband, Jin, and the excitement of another child to keep her thinking straight. I doubt you even have a cat to keep you company.”

  Panix gave Moshin a crooked smile. “No pets. You remember me well enough after these last few years. I live for work and that’s about it.”

  “Any love affairs since…?” Moshin said, raising his eyebrows. Panix didn’t mind Moshin’s prying as he was like the father he lost.

  “No. I’m afraid I’ve turned into a hermit since Merra left. If anything I’m the prime target of the boss’s daughter. But it’s not what you think. She’s just gotten her degree from Pent University. I understand she was an outstanding student and she had to force herself to pick my brains from time to time. She succeeded in that and by the time each session was over, she managed to pick a fight.” Panix laughed.

  “But the way to success is to marry the boss’s daughter. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”