A Murder of Mages: A Novel of the Maradaine Constabulary

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  He went to the barn.

  Surprisingly, Evoy was asleep, curled up on the floor with a low-burning candle next to him. Minox had no intention of disturbing him. He didn’t need to talk, he only needed to study Evoy’s work. Carefully. He needed to understand something, not get drawn in too deep.

  Nerrish Plum had said something that Minox had heard before: the Brotherhood. His “Eight Fallen Pins,” if Minox was inferring correctly, were stolen from this Brotherhood. Plum was also willing to give a quick confession and go straight to Quarrygate. Men rarely chose Quarrygate unless the alternative was more frightening.

  Minox searched across the slateboards along the wall until he found the part he was looking for. With three question marks around it, in quickly scrawled letters: The Brotherhood of the Nine.

  He drew a dashed line away from the Brotherhood to a clear space on the board, and wrote in “Nerrish Plum.” Under that he wrote “Eight Fallen Pins—stolen.”

  He glanced around the board. Every time he came out here, he took a good hard look at every name, every clipping, to see if some new inspiration would jump out at him. This newest addition brought no epiphanies with it.

  There was something brewing in this city. He could feel it. Evoy constantly spoke of it. It was breathing and building, simmering under his feet.

  That was the other thing Plum had said. He had only scratched the surface.

  He drew two more lines, from “Brotherhood” and “Nerrish Plum,” and then wrote “Underground?”

  That felt right.

  Maybe with that, Evoy would make a new discovery. Maybe in time, Minox would make his own.

  Minox blew out the candle, slipped out of the barn and made his way back to the house. With any luck, he would make it to his bed with a minimum of fuss. He had a feeling that, despite the pain in his arm, he would sleep quite soundly tonight.

  It was well after nine bells by the time Satrine returned home. The door was latched, and Satrine had to knock three times before Missus Abernand finally responded. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Satrine, Missus Abernand.”

  The door flew open, Missus Abernand’s face a mix of anger and fear. “You’ve been gone for hours! We had no idea what had happened to you.” Her eyes fell on Satrine’s leg, bloody and bandaged. “Oh, sweet saints, are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Satrine said. The woman, standing dumbstruck, hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Yes, of course,” Missus Abernand said. “Girls, your mother is here!”

  Satrine went into apartment, where Rian and Caribet were sitting at the table. Caribet jumped up and ran into Satrine’s arms.

  “Where have you been, Mother?” Caribet cried. “We hadn’t heard anything, and we . . .”

  “It’s all right,” Satrine said. “I should have sent a page with word a few hours ago. But I’m fine.”

  “You aren’t fine,” Rian said, not getting up from the table. “How did that happen?”

  “Catching the bad guy,” Satrine said. “It is my job.”

  “Is it?” Rian asked pointedly. Satrine wasn’t sure how much Missus Abernand had told them.

  “It certainly is,” Satrine said. “And I do it pretty blazing well, you know.”

  “Well,” Missus Abernand said, brushing past Satrine to the back staircase, “I’ve been doing this job all day, and I need to get to bed.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs. “I’ll expect extra pay for today.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Missus Abernand left. Satrine sat at the table, Caribet still clinging to her side.

  “Are you hungry?” Rian asked sullenly.

  “Famished.”

  Rian went to the stove and ladled out a bowl of stew. “Beet and onion and bitter greens,” she said as she put the bowl in front of Satrine.

  “Thanks,” Satrine said. The stew was perfectly acceptable fare. “How are you, Ri?”

  Rian slumped in her chair. “College boys are horrible.”

  “Good,” Satrine said. “Why?”

  “He said he went and got you in trouble. Did he really?”

  “He really did,” Satrine said. “It’s fine, though. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “Really, Mama?” Caribet asked.

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “Good,” Rian said. She went back to her earlier thoughts. “Also he was really strange about me drinking wine. He takes it really seriously. Like, he kept wanting me to taste all these different things, and they all were the same, and even if you hadn’t shown up I would have left soon.”

  Satrine finished her stew listening to Rian rant about the boy and Caribet talk about classes. They finished up and she sent the girls to bed. After a few minutes of straightening up, she blew out all the lamps, save one candle, and went into the bedroom.

  Loren lay awake, his eyes found her vest as soon as she came in. He moaned softly.

  “I got it back,” Satrine said. “So we’ll do all right for a while.” She put the candle on his table and poured him a cup of water. He drank readily, eyes staying on her vest.

  “We got our man. I got him, actually, but Mirrell and Kellman are getting the credit.” She sat on the bed and took off her boots. “It was a dice of a fight, though, Loren. Two fights, actually, since Idre Hoffer notched me. That was the real dice. Taking down Plum, it was almost sad. Locked him down, saved a life, like you always used to say.”

  Another soft moan from Loren.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Looks like I’m getting the job done.”

  The moan turned into a wheeze.

  She got up and turned to him. “Looks like I have your attention, as long as I have this on?” She held open the vest.

  “Ree . . .” he wheezed out.

  “What was that?” she asked, moving closer.

  “Reen . . . an . . .” He trailed off.

  “Green and Red?” she asked. Of course that was what he was thinking. She took off the vest and let it drop on the ground. “No more of that in here.”

  His eyes stayed on her. No lolling, no flailing about.

  “Ree . . . Satree . . .”

  She dropped to her knees.

  “. . . Trine,” he finished hoarsely.

  She almost fell over, and then scrambled to his side, cupping his face. “Loren? Are you? I’m here. I’m here.”

  His eyes went away again. The moment passed.

  She kissed his forehead. “All right, my love. That was good.” She stood back up and continued undressing. “I want you to know, Loren, I won’t stop fighting for you. Working for our family.”

  She got in the bed next to him. She hadn’t slept properly in days. “Every day, for as long as it takes.”

  She turned and wrapped her arm around his warm chest. “I can do it, because I know you’re here, waiting for me.” The tears formed at her eyes, and she didn’t bother trying to stop them. “I’m at your back. Until the saints come for you. And even then, I’m going to give them a blazes of a fight.”

  She leaned up and blew out the candle.

  “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m on it.”

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