“Right,” said Tane. “If he’d used the proper restrictions, Miss Eutrice couldn’t have been burned. It’s actually interesting: the glyph for ‘all things’, or ‘everything’, is a plain circle, and originally if you wanted a broadly targetted spell you refined from there. But the distinction between sentient and non-sentient came up often enough that mages got into the habit of shorthanding the glyphs. An inner half-circle, upward”—he nodded again toward the same half-circle within a circle on the ceiling—“for ‘all things sentient’, and downward for ‘all things not’. Which is convenient enough, but in some ways it’s an example of why magic can be so unreliable. Even a language like the lingua, designed to cast spells with precision, can morph due to custom and—”
“It never ceases to amaze me,” Indree interrupted, “that someone who distrusts magic so much always sounds so happy talking about the minutiae of magical process. But perhaps this isn’t the time?”
Tane flushed slightly. He’d almost managed to forget, for a moment, the grisly scene in front of him. “Sorry. My point is, the strictness of the ward should narrow things down. The voice behind that mask had to be on the list of ward exemptions. Probably someone who was in the house already. The window sill could have been scuffed as a mislead.”
“That’s where it gets complicated,” said Indree. “This wasn’t the only murder.”
“What?” Tane whirled to face her. “When?”
“The night before last. Ulnod Stooke.”
Tane knew the name—the junior senator of House Stooke, the Senate’s sole gnomish house. Who, as it happened, had something very important in common with Byron Rosepetal. “Another non-magical member of a Senate house. And let me guess: the similarities don’t end there.”
“I can show you,” Indree said. She didn’t wait for an answer; her eyes went unfocused for an instant.
And then Tane was somewhere else. Through Indree’s eyes, he could see the scene of the Stooke murder. A young gnomish man, lying in his bed with a bronze staff driven through his face, just like Byron Rosepetal. But unlike the sprite, Ulnod Stooke’s features were largely intact. The spike went through his forehead, slightly off-center to the left, and just below it a pair of empty green eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He had the broad face common to his people, with small round ears, a large nose, and a wide mouth. Rivulets of blood ran down his temples, forked around his nose and ears, stained his lips. The bed beneath him was soaked crimson. There was no denying the similarity between the two crimes.
Tane had to swallow back another wave of nausea, even as the image faded. “Spellfire, give me some warning before you do that.”
“You’ll live,” said Indree.
Kadka was looking at him impatiently. “What is it? I don’t see sending.” Her Astral invisibility meant even a divination as simple as a sending couldn’t find her without a focus--inconvenient, sometimes.
“I was right,” said Tane. “They were both killed in the same way.”
Indree nodded. “Both in their sleep, so we have no final memories to work with. Both with a bronze staff like this one, driven through the skull, without a trace left on it for divination.”
Tane couldn’t help but shift his eyes to Byron’s bloody bed, there. A question came to his lips, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to. One he had to know the answer to. “Was the illusion set into the crown the same? Do you think… was it a message for me and Kadka?”
Indree shook her head. “The same image of the mask, but a different message. No reference to the Magebreakers, at least not that I could see. Here.”
She muttered in the lingua, and suddenly the image of a faceless mask bearing the Mage Emperor’s sigil was hovering before her—an evoked illusion, this time, so Kadka could see. That strange distorted voice intoned, “The time of the magical draws near. All praise the Emperor Who Will Be.”
Nothing about Magebreakers. Which meant the message here at the Rosepetal manor could just be unfortunate wording. Considering two men were dead, Tane felt a little bit guilty over the surge of relief that came with that. If the Stookes were involved, he very much didn’t want to be. Didn’t want to reopen old wounds.
Kadka cocked her head. “The Emperor Who Will Be. Same in both. Who is this? Man behind mask?”
“I don’t think so,” said Indree. “These messages talk about him in the third person, like the masked man is some sort of herald. But whose, I can’t say.”
“Maybe no one’s,” Tane said. “We can’t be sure it’s more than some lunatic’s wishful thinking. But I have a bad feeling that our killer has someone specific in mind.” He looked to Indree. “What do you think?”
“I’m not certain of anything yet,” said Indree. “But Byron Rosepetal and Ulnod Stooke didn’t have much in common beyond a lack of magic. Their families aren’t known for seeing eye to eye.” That was true enough—the Stookes were bankers and merchants with a reputation for fiscal responsibility, and they tended to oppose the Rosepetals’ frequent and extravagant proposals in the Senate. “And when two non-magical junior senators are murdered in two days, it suggests a certain pattern.”
Tane nodded. “You might be dealing with a magical extremist targeting candidates for Protector of the Realm, you mean.” The highest office in Audish government could only be held by those without magecraft, chosen in the Senate from candidates put forward by the great houses. Most houses used their junior senator appointments as a way to groom such candidates for leadership. “But are you looking for an agent of a vast shadowy order, or just a random fanatic with a Mage Emperor obsession?”
“All I know is that I can’t waste any time,” said Indree. “We’ve managed to keep both murders quiet for now, but that won’t last. When word gets out, it’s going to be a mess. And until we know how it happened, we don’t know how to stop the next killing.”
“I still don’t see how two murder scenes overly complicates things,” said Tane. “Compare the exemptions on both sets of wards and look for overlaps. That shouldn’t be a very long list of suspects.”
“It isn’t,” Indree agreed. “But whose names do you suppose are on it?”
And then he understood. “Oh. Right.”
Kadka looked between the two of them with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t see. What is problem?”
“The only people likely to be on the guest list for multiple Senate houses are members of other Senate houses,” Tane explained. “And investigating families that powerful…”
“It’s not easy to get access,” Indree finished. “If I make so much as an implication without rock-solid evidence, I’ll be looking for a new line of work very soon. And now that you two are involved… rumor has it that you can walk right through wards, or break them wide open with a trick of logic. I have colleagues who would be happy to find a way to put this on you rather than offend a senator.”
“So we find something to prove is not us, yes?” said Kadka. She looked at Tane there; so did Indree.
“It’s not just about that.” Tane glanced back at the lifeless body of Byron Rosepetal, and fought down another wave of nausea. “It could just be coincidental phrasing, but if this message really is aimed at us… we might be targets. And I don’t like thinking that someone is murdering people in answer to something I did.”
“We did,” Kadka corrected, and crossed the room to grip his shoulder. “Killer taunts us both. We find who is behind this mask together.”
“I hope so,” said Tane. “But I don’t see many answers right now.” He gestured to the staff-spike protruding from Byron’s broken skull. “All I have is that the placement of the staff is strange, if this is a pro-magical killing. Which doesn’t get us any nearer to a suspect.”
Indree glanced at the spike. “Strange? What do you mean?”
“Astralites and magical fanatics tend to agree that a person’s Astral link is anchored in the heart. Symbolically, at least. If I was trying to make a point about magical superiority, I’
d have planted my spike there. Not the face.” Tane shrugged. “It isn’t much. Maybe our killer just doesn’t have a theological bent.”
Indree was silent a moment, prodding the inside of her cheek with her tongue, and then, “You’re right. It isn’t much. That’s all you have for me?”
Tane spread his hands helplessly. “Right now it is.”
She sighed. “I was afraid of that. I suppose there’s no helping it, then.”
He knew what that meant without asking. “Do what you have to. We won’t put up a fight.” He looked pointedly at Kadka. “Will we, Kadka?” A small part of him hoped she’d resist, but there wouldn’t be any point. Not with so many bluecaps on the estate.
“Depends on fight.” Kadka raised an eyebrow at Indree. “What does he mean?”
Tane answered first. “She’s going to have to take us to the Yard.”
Chapter Four
_____
“WHAT AREN’T YOU telling me, Carver?”
Chief Constable Andus Durren leaned forward over the table in the small interrogation room, his thick mustache inches from Tane’s face. A sturdy middle-aged human, Durren’s interrogation technique largely hinged upon loudly demanding answers until his cheeks turned as red as the half-circle of thinning hair about his temples.
“Not a thing, Chief Durren,” said Tane. “I have nothing to hide. Haven’t your divinations told you that yet?”
“We both know that wouldn’t stop you from lying.” Durren had cast a truth-spell, at the start—like all constables, he was a trained mage—but Tane had a reputation for evading divinations. A fact that was apparently very frustrating for a man used to getting information the easy way.
And equally frustrating for Tane, when he didn’t actually have anything to lie about. “Look,” he said wearily. “That message might have been aimed at me and Kadka, but it might just as easily have been an unfortunate phrasing. And if it was for us, why should that mean we’re involved? We can’t control who hears about the ‘Magebreakers’”—he grimaced as he said it—“or what they decide to do about it.” He already knew it wouldn’t work. He’d been under interrogation for more than an hour, and explained his position too many times to count.
“You’re always involved!” Durren barked. “You and that orc of yours.”
“Half-orc,” Tane corrected. “Her name is Kadka. And she’s not ‘mine’. We’re partners.” Presumably she was undergoing similar questioning in one of the other rooms. And probably making it more difficult than I ever could. Kadka’s Astral invisibility meant none of their truth-spells would work on her. She’d just give them whatever answers amused her most, and grin that unsettling grin that showed every one of her sharp, lupine teeth. Tane smiled slightly, imagining some high-ranking constable squirming in discomfort at the sight.
Durren snorted. “I don’t care what her name is. What I care about is how often you two happen to be nearby when something goes wrong. You’ve done more than enough damage to this city already. You aren’t talking your way out of trouble this time.”
He’s never going to listen. He wants to believe he has something on us. According to Indree, Durren had resented Tane and Kadka since the incident with Nieris and the airship—a high-profile case they’d solved when his constables couldn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge, but rumors had spread, and the chief constable wasn’t a man who took well to being upstaged.
But the last thing Tane wanted was another hour of this. He had to try. “I know you think we’re a menace, but most of that damage wasn’t our fault. How many times do I have to tell you that Kadka and I didn’t dig that tun—”
The door to Tane’s right swung open, and a familiar voice interrupted him midsentence.
“Chief Durren,” said Lady Abena Jasani, Protector of the Realm. “I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion.”
What is she doing here? It couldn’t be a coincidence—the Lady Protector didn’t just walk into random interrogation rooms on a whim.
Lady Abena wore a topcoat as black as her short, tightly curled hair, with trousers and boots to match. Her deep brown skin made her Anjican heritage obvious—House Jasani’s roots were in Estian occupied territories on the southern continent from before the Mage War. Unlike Durren, she didn’t demand attention with red-faced bluster; she simply entered a room, and all eyes went to her before she said a word. Tane hadn’t met very many people with that kind of presence, and fewer still with the wisdom to use it well. Abena Jasani, in his experience, had both.
Durren and Tane both rose in their seats as the Lady Protector stepped inside. One of her Mageblades—devoted protectors of all who held her office—stepped in after her, a lithe elven woman wearing a brass cuirass over a crisp blue and white uniform. The Mageblade moved to stand at attention just beside the door, her hands never straying far from the glyph-etched saber and dual ancryst pistols at her waist.
“Never an intrusion, Lady Abena,” Durren said, unconsciously smoothing down the front of his uniform with one hand. “At your service, always. What do you need?”
“I understand you’ve been asking Mister Carver and Miss Kadka some questions.” Lady Abena greeted Tane with a nod there. “Admirably thorough, given the message found at the scene. I’m sure they’ve been very cooperative, given their past service to the Protectorate.”
Durren looked sidelong at Tane, a slight frown beneath his bushy mustache. “Yes, well—”
“Excellent. In that case, I do need to speak to Mister Carver, and I’m sure you were just finishing up. Mister Carver, you’ve shared everything you know, haven’t you?”
“Of course, your Ladyship.” Tane flashed Durren a quick smirk.
“Then I’m sure Chief Durren has more important things to do,” Lady Abena said, in a tone that made it clear she wasn’t asking. “Let me take him off your hands, Andus.”
Durren’s cheeks flushed, but he was trapped. It went against the man’s nature to argue with anyone more wealthy and powerful than he was, and even if he’d decided to be stubborn, he had no strong evidence against Tane. “Yes, your Ladyship,” he said with obvious reluctance. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” said Lady Abena. “I would appreciate it if you gave us the room for a moment. And please, have Miss Kadka brought to me as well.” Behind her, the elven Mageblade was already pushing the door open.
“It would be my pleasure, of course.” Durren’s face was an angry red from his neck to the bare expanse of his scalp, an absurd contrast to his ingratiating tone. “And if you need anything else from me before you go, I’ll be in my office.” With a final, furious glance at Tane, he strode out the open door.
When the door had swung closed again, Tane bowed his head to Lady Abena in gratitude. “Thank you, your Ladyship. He would have kept me in here until I admitted to every crime in Thaless for the last six weeks.”
Lady Abena regarded Tane for a moment before answering, and then, “You did tell him everything you know, I hope. Audland owes you a debt, and I believe Inspector Lovial when she tells me you are innocent, but you do strike me as someone who might find it tempting to frustrate Chief Durren.”
“There was nothing to tell,” Tane said. “I don’t know anything.”
“And yet the killer’s message could have been directed at you and Miss Kadka. The wording was… unusual.”
“Trust me,” said Tane, “the possibility looms fairly large in my mind just now. I’m not thrilled at the thought of a murderer taking a personal interest in me.”
A knock at the door before Lady Abena could answer, and then Indree’s voice from the other side: “Your Ladyship?”
Lady Abena motioned for her Mageblade to open the door once more, and Indree led Kadka in.
“Inspector Lovial,” Lady Abena said with a welcoming nod. “You two can thank her for this reprieve. She contacted me on your behalf. You’re very fortunate I was able to get away from preparing for my trip to the Continent.” The Lady Protector was following th
e success of her airship treaty with a diplomatic tour of the Calenean continent aboard the Hesliar. It had been a popular talking point in the streets and taverns of Thaless in recent weeks.
“Lucky us,” Tane said wryly. “I owe you a favor, Ree.”
Indree smirked at him. “You owe me a thousand. I’m not holding my breath on repayment.”
“I did offer you that dinner,” he countered. “Which you still haven’t taken me up on.”
“Well,” Indree said, “maybe if you two stopped breaking the city every week, I’d have time.”
A loud crack from Kadka’s neck headed off Tane’s response. “Is good you get us out,” she said to Indree, rolling her head from side to side. “Hear same questions much longer, maybe I break little gnome woman’s nose on table, get thrown in cells.” She grinned. “Better this way, but not so satisfying.”
“I’m sure Inspector Gabbins appreciates your restraint,” Indree said dryly, and then dipped her head to the Lady Protector. “Lady Abena, thank you for coming. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but I don’t like to see time and resources wasted on a dead end. Chief Durren…” She hesitated there, and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… it’s not my place.”
“You need not censor yourself in front of me, Inspector Lovial,” Lady Abena said with a small smile. “I haven’t yet clapped anyone in irons for speaking honestly. And I assure you, I am well aware of the chief constable’s shortcomings. But with his political allies… suffice it to say, I am doing what I can. For now, I can only ask that you do the same. Word of the murders will be on the streets by tomorrow at the latest, and I fear the connection to the Knights of the Emperor may lead to panic. The demonstrations these last weeks have caused enough unrest in the city already.”
“You mean Silver Dawn?” Kadka asked. “You think they have hand in this? Usually they just yell.” The Silver Dawn was a loosely organized group of protestors emboldened by the recent decision to allow non-magicals to attend the University. Their criticism of the inequalities in Audish society was seen by some as close to treasonous, and a number of their demonstrations of late had taken a turn toward angry confrontation.
The Emperor's Mask (Magebreakers Book 2) Page 3