A Murder of Mages: A Novel of the Maradaine Constabulary

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Whoever walks up to the patrolmen is the killer?” Her voice had the necessary skepticism.

  “Of course not,” Minox said. “Given the care taken in the murder itself, such a method would be sloppy. And I think our killer is too smart for that.”

  “So you want to casually observe who, in the corner square, is casually observing?”

  Teas and cresh rolls were delivered as Inspector Rainey asked this, so there was no time to adequately form a response. The faint hunger that had struck him when he touched the spike drove him to eat as quickly as possible in polite mixed company. He was used to hunger, the gnawing need that arrived with his magic ability, but the sudden onset of this bout was a new sensation. The cresh rolls—fried pork sausage and potato wrapped with buckwheat griddlecakes—were serviceable satiation. Inspector Rainey ate her own rolls leisurely.

  Inspector Rainey put her first cresh roll down and sipped at her tea. “You never did answer my question.”

  “You have asked several questions this morning. Do you mean your most recent?”

  “Not at all. If it’s not for being a mage, why do the other inspectors call you ‘Jinx’?”

  Minox grit his teeth. This was inevitable. He had made it clear to her that he would not be discussing his Uncircled status, so she would naturally gravitate to the other uncomfortable question. This one, however, had an answer she deserved to know.

  “I’ve held the rank of Inspector Third Class for eight months now. In that time, you are my fifth partner.”

  “Fifth?” She chewed on her cresh roll deliberately, as if the act of eating helped her swallow the information as well. “I presume the other four weren’t promoted out?”

  “You presume correctly.” Minox held his breath for a moment, building up the strength to continue the narrative. “The first died during an investigation. Not killed in the line of duty, but accidentally struck by a runaway horsecart. The random incident was ignored until my second partner—the morning after the first snow—slipped on ice and broke his neck.”

  “On the job?”

  “Prisoner escort. However, for many of the others at the stationhouse, two points is enough to form a pattern. They told my next partner, during lunch, to be careful, as I was a ‘jinx.’ He laughed, and consequently choked on his meal.”

  Inspector Rainey’s eyes went wide, and her face quavered in that nebulous expression where either laughter or tears could suddenly erupt.

  “And from there it stuck.”

  “Indeed. My last partner was Inspector Kellman, who clearly did not have a fatal accident.”

  “A near fatal one?”

  “We were arresting a group of smugglers when we were ambushed. Badly outnumbered, I . . . resorted to magic.”

  “You’ve said you’re untrained.” Inspector Rainey said it as a statement of fact, with no level of rebuke or confusion.

  Minox lowered his voice to a whisper, involuntarily glancing to either side to see if anyone was listening. His status as a mage was not a secret among the Constabulary, but it wasn’t explicitly spoken of, and it certainly was not something he talked of too openly in public. “My use of magic tends to be instinctual. Raw. In this case I released a wide blast of energy, knocking down everyone else in the room.”

  “Including Kellman.”

  “Who requested a new partner shortly after the incident.” Magic made most people nervous, including Minox himself. He had heard, and even made, arguments against mages like the classic Unseen Knife justification. The apprehension Inspector Kellman displayed was not unexpected. The young horsepatrol officer Minox had been five years ago would have been as troubled by the man he was today.

  Inspector Rainey sat quietly, taking further sips of her tea, her face for the first time completely inscrutable. Finally she said, “How much stock does the captain put in this?”

  “He’s never used the epithet, at least in my hearing. But he cannot ignore the record of my partnerships. And his demeanor was strangely gleeful when he introduced us.”

  Inspector Rainey gave a strangely wry smile. It was all too familiar—the kind his mother or sisters made at him far too often. A mixture of warm affection with mild, teasing condescension. “You clearly have one fan on the inspectors’ floor. I think Miss Pyle might be sweet on you.”

  That was why. It was an obvious conclusion to make based on the short interaction she had witnessed, no doubt. Minox had to give Inspector Rainey that credit. But she missed the important details.

  “Nyla is quite fond of me, as is only proper,” he said. “She is, after all, my cousin.”

  “Oh!” Rainey’s face flushed. Mild embarrassment. “Of course. I know all too well about Constabulary families.” She bit at her lip for a moment. “How much family do you have in Green and Red?”

  “A significant portion,” Minox said. “However, at the Inemar station, there is only Nyla, and my sister Corrie, who is assigned to night shift duties.” He had no urge to further elaborate his family history. It wasn’t relevant to the situation.

  “The rest are . . . all over the city?” A slight line of sweat formed at her brow. Whatever secret she was hiding from the captain, the idea that he had family at other stationhouses made her worry. Why would that trouble her? Unless she didn’t want her duties as an inspector to be common knowledge in other parts of the city.

  Across the river, where her husband had been Inspector. A simple way to test the theory.

  “Mostly Keller Cove or East Maradaine. All south side houses.”

  The muscles in Inspector Rainey’s neck relaxed. Clearly, that had been the issue.

  There was no need to press it further, not at the moment. She was proving astute and intelligent. If Captain Cinellan insisted he have a partner, she was by far the most tolerable option he had had to date.

  Inspector Rainey finished her cresh roll. “Pork sausage is too greasy.”

  “It usually is,” Minox agreed, taking her statement as a cue to change the subject. “I’ve observed several people loitering in the square, but none have taken more than a passing interest in the alleyway.”

  “Any you want to take a closer look at?”

  “Possibly,” Minox said. “First, if you’ll excuse the crudity, I need to make use of the water closet.”

  Inspector Rainey waved him off lightly, saying, “I’m amazed that there are water closets in this neighborhood.” Right after she spoke, her face changed, some idea crashing across her thoughts. She leaped to her feet and dashed across the street back to the alley.

  Minox had little choice but to follow, the call of nature needing to wait. He dropped a few coins on the table and went after her.

  “What is it?” he called as she passed between the two guards, leaped over the body of the victim, and charged into the back of the alley. It wasn’t until she stopped at the end that she turned back around and acknowledged that he was there.

  “Years ago, this alley led to a few backhouses. No water closets back then.”

  “Right.” Minox nodded.

  “So the backhouses are gone.” She focused her attention on the ground, which was covered with refuse and trash, most likely thrown out the windows above. She scraped some away with her foot, revealing metal grates in the ground. “But the way to the sewers isn’t.”

  “Are you proposing the killer entered through the sewer, or escaped?”

  “Either. Both.” She pulled out the grate, which came up easily. So easily it added credence to her theory. She put the grate down and glanced down the hole, covering her face. “I’m not sure, exactly. It’s something to consider.”

  A valid point, Minox had to acknowledge. In fact, Minox wished she hadn’t pushed aside the covering refuse so carelessly. A close inspection might have revealed if it had been placed deliberately to hide the killer’s method. “It may not currently bring us clo
ser to solving the case, but it certainly could be crucial information.” He realized he made that sound more condescending than he had intended. “Good thinking.”

  “How far down does that go?”

  He bent down and peered into the darkness. “Ten feet, perhaps. Though I understand there is layer upon layer of underground, especially in this part of the city.” Perhaps it was due to this particular section of sewer not receiving direct use anymore, but the scent was nowhere near as bad as he had feared.

  “I heard some stories.” She stood back up.

  “That might be all they are,” Minox conceded.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure. I want to do an experiment. Are you willing?”

  They came out into the street.

  Inspector Rainey looked wary. “What do we need to do?”

  “Make a call, first,” Minox said. He pulled out his whistle again, and gave it four short, shrill blasts. People on the street glanced their way, then went back to their business. The two footpatrol gave him annoyed glances.

  A moment later, a Constabulary page came running up. An older one, with blond hair that was a bit longer than preferred. This one would have a hard time making senior page. “What’s the word, specs?”

  “The word is, we need some eyes, boy,” Welling said. He led them over to the mouth of the alley. “Can you see the clock tower of Saint Limarre’s from outside this alley?”

  “Sure can!” the page said.

  “I mean, really see it. See it to the minute.”

  “You bet!”

  Minox was too familiar with overeager pages exaggerating their abilities. “What’s the time?”

  “Ten bells nineteen.”

  “Very good.” He tapped the shoulder of one of the footpatrols. “I would prefer we not be disturbed. Eyes front, and if the wagon arrives, hold it here until we are finished. Now, if you will be so kind, Inspector Rainey, to join me in re-creating the event.”

  Rainey had the grace to look intrigued. Even excited. “Fair enough. But are we presuming the victim is grabbed here in the street, or brought in from the sewer, already incapacitated?”

  “The latter,” Welling said. “That strikes me as the more likely scenario, and what I want to know is how fast, under ideal circumstances, the killer could have done everything he needed to do.”

  Rainey nodded. “Then we should go to the end of the alley, and you carry me from there.”

  Minox couldn’t hide his smile. Inspector Rainey could definitely be the most useful partner he had been assigned. “Boy, when you hear the whistle, I want you to start marking time. When I blow it again, then stop. If we’re all clear, let’s begin.”

  Minox went down to the end of the alley, Inspector Rainey right with him. “I’m working on the theory that the killer entered the alley from here, with the victim, carried him out to the mouth of the alley, performed the ritual killing, and exited again from here. Is this reasonable?”

  Inspector Rainey nodded. “Reasonable enough.”

  “So we’re clear, you will be playing the victim while I will be acting out the killer’s part, save causing you actual harm.” On a rough estimate of height and weight, Inspector Rainey was almost the same as the victim. For the purpose of this experiment, she was within acceptable tolerances.

  “And your theory is that the victim was, at this stage, incapacitated somehow?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “So I should be dead weight.” Promptly she dropped to the ground in a heap.

  Minox was quite pleased that she had reached this conclusion on her own. None of his previous partners had ever understood what he was doing when he tried to work through the physical reality of committing such a complicated crime.

  “Wait,” Rainey said from her collapsed position. “This isn’t right.”

  “How so?”

  “We need to start inside the sewer. The act of pulling an incapacitated body from there would take a significant amount of time.”

  Minox nodded, impressed. “Excellent point.”

  “Open the grate.” Rainey got back on her feet. Minox had to admit, he was finding this early partnership far more satisfactory than he had imagined would have been possible. Rare was the officer who would willingly go into the sewer system even for the sake of pursuit, let alone for a mere deductive experiment. He pulled open the grate, revealing the dank, fetid tunnel beneath the street.

  Inspector Rainey shucked off her boots, coat, and vest, putting them in a neat pile on an abandoned crate. Without any trace of hesitation she removed her blouse and slacks and placed them on her pile.

  Minox turned to one side. “That is sufficient, Inspector,” Minox said. Her linen underthings were sufficiently modest to maintain some propriety.

  “I want to minimize what I ruin here,” she said. She peered down the hole. “Once more in.” She sat down and lowered herself underground.

  Minox paused only briefly to remove his own coat and vest before dropping in after her.

  “This is interesting,” Rainey said mildly, pointing to the knotted rope that hung from the top of the tunnel. “Fairly sure that isn’t typically installed here.”

  “You spend a lot of time inside the sewers?” Minox asked her.

  “In my youth, Inspector,” she muttered. “Come on.” She went limp, and Minox had to rush to catch her before she fell into the fetid water at their feet.

  “You could have given a little warning, Inspector.”

  “Keeping you on your toes,” she whispered, not moving in any other way. “Give the signal.”

  Minox put the whistle in his mouth and blew. As soon as he did, he hiked Rainey’s limp body over his shoulder. He grabbed the knotted rope and struggled to climb.

  “Not . . . easy . . .” he choked out.

  “I wouldn’t imagine.”

  After a hard slog, he managed to get one hand over the lip of the sewer hole.

  “This may be impossible,” he said.

  “What, exactly?”

  “The aperture is too small for me to get out with you over my shoulder, but there’s no way to get the necessary leverage to push you through ahead of me. Not with one hand. And I can’t imagine a man being strong enough to be able to do so.” Unable to hold himself up on the rope any longer, he dropped back to the bottom of the sewer. Rainey coughed hard at the impact, and he put her back on her feet.

  “You could have warned me,” she said.

  “My apologies,” he said.

  “All right, then.” She rubbed at her chest and looked back to the hole to the street. “Our killer could have attached the body to the rope, climbed up, and then pulled up the victim.”

  Minox agreed with that idea, and, after giving her a nod, quickly climbed the rope. The timing aspect of this experiment had been thrown off, but not so badly that he couldn’t glean something useful out of the exercise. Trying to start everything over would just confuse the matter. Press forward when in doubt, that’s what Fenner used to say.

  Minox surprised himself so much with that thought he almost lost balance at the top of the hole. He hadn’t thought about Fenner in some time. A gnawing twist hit him in the gut. He shouldn’t be forgetting the old man. He should go see him when he had the chance.

  This was not the time. Idle thoughts did nothing but delay what he needed to accomplish. He planted his feet over the hole, and grabbed on to the rope. Hauling up Inspector Rainey was significantly easier this way. In moments he had her at the top, and pulled her out onto the cobblestone.

  “You all right?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Shall we?”

  Minox threw her over his shoulder—the stench of the sewer was all over her feet—and hurried down to the mouth of the alley. He laid her down on the ground near the body.

  “Next?
” she asked.

  “Driving the spikes into the hands,” Minox said. “Which we will only mime.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a slight smile.

  Pretending to hold a spike and hammer in his hands, he played out the actions of striking the spikes into the ground. “Four hits each?” he asked her after he had done the first one.

  “Reasonable as anything,” she said. He feigned driving the other spike in.

  “Now the heart,” he said.

  “How long does that take?” she asked.

  Pretending to hold a blade over her chest, he narrated his actions. “From what I saw, the job was done with four cuts, done with strength and precision. Like so. Chest opened, four more cuts removed the heart itself. And so.” He stood up, holding the imaginary heart in his hands.

  “That quick?” Rainey asked.

  “It would have to be. Then back out the sewer, or just walk out the alley?”

  “We’re presuming the killer is daring, yes?”

  “So walk right out, heart wrapped like he just bought it at the butcher shop?”

  “Perfect,” Rainey said. Minox blew the whistle again. The page turned around.

  “Sweet Saint Heprin!” the boy shouted, his eyes wide as he stared at Rainey.

  “Eyes around, page,” Rainey said flatly. The boy spun on his heels in fast compliance. Rainey returned to the end of the alley.

  “What was that time, boy?”

  “Oh, it was . . . twelve and a half minutes. Near as I could tell.”

  Minox considered this. Too long, too big a window for discovery.

  “Twelve and half minutes,” he called back to Rainey. “I think that’s far too long.”

  She was at the end of the alley, getting her clothes back on. “I agree. Our theory is flawed.”