Taellaneth Complete Series Box Set

by Vanessa Nelson

  Not a full cadre of humans, Arrow realised. Just five, and three of them were not armed but carrying heavy-looking metal cases. Even as she saw that, the three set their cases by the door, each pulling on a pair of bright blue latex gloves. Forensic technical specialists, she assumed.

  “This is shifkin property,” Zachary said. He was keeping his power damped down, Arrow realised, and also standing square with her. She suddenly became aware of Tony on her other side, the woman projecting a far more formidable presence than the Prime.

  “We appreciate the call.” The leader had put his weapon away, and his deputy did likewise, the two standing at ease a few paces away, both their eyes travelling around the room. Not as experienced with violence as the ‘kin, Arrow assessed, seeing their eyes widen and their faces pale as they took in the extent of the damage. Eventually, they turned their gazes back to the Prime, then Tony, then Arrow. “You must be Arrow. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Get him into custody first,” Zachary prompted, tilting his chin towards the tied-up human. There had been too many matters discussed in front of him already, Arrow thought, but the humans made no objection. The first pair replaced the rope binding with handcuffs that sparked in Arrow’s sight, magic built into the restraints, taking the human outside, exchanging words with other humans outside the building, before they returned to ask their questions.

  It was a long, dull, process, and one that kept echoing oddly in Arrow’s head. She was usually the one sent to investigate, on her own, with no forensic expertise, and also usually the one asking the questions. She kept being distracted by the forensic specialists, scraping samples from every surface, photographing everything, sampling the air, and a dozen other tests she had no name for, the equipment unfamiliar.

  The questioning continued, unrelenting, the humans not distracted by their team. It reminded Arrow, a little, of standing against the Taellan’s scorn and disbelief as every detail was examined. But she was not alone here, and had to admire Tony’s attention to detail as she intervened on a number of occasions where the human authorities appeared to want to suggest Arrow was reckless for using lethal combat magic. Arrow listened, with admiration, to a short, pithy speech by the lawyer which invited the humans to consider the rights and wrongs of armed magicians entering a warded property and unleashing combat magic in response to a defensive hold spell.

  The skylights above had long since lightened to morning when the humans were finally satisfied and left. She was swaying on her feet by then, light headed and with a tight knot of worry in her stomach. The wards were down. The lack of protection was making the spot between her shoulder blades itch, despite the presence of so many armed people around her.

  She did remember to thank Tony, and the ‘kin, for their help. Tony nodded, exchanged a few words with Zachary that Arrow did not catch, and left, as immaculate and composed as she had been hours before.

  While he was distracted, Arrow moved over to the shelves, wincing at the destruction, checking again that nothing had been taken. She had assured everyone that was the case but wanted to be sure. And she had not managed to look inside her box yet.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Con and Will are on their way back,” Zachary told her. “Rose and Paul will keep watch outside.”

  “Thank you.” She was sure she had repeated those words a dozen times. She still meant it.

  “Nothing missing?”

  “No. But.” She bit her lip.

  “You’re worried about that box.” Zachary’s lips twitched as she glanced up at him, startled. She forgot how perceptive he was sometimes. “I’ll make us something to drink. You check your box.”

  The door to the outside was closed, and with Zachary out of the room, she was alone for the first time since the intrusion. She stood still for several breaths, sending her senses out. The wards were dormant, simply waiting for her command to reactivate. She called up the most basic set of wards, setting the perimeter again, and soothed the wards when they reacted to Rose and Paul’s presence.

  That done, she lifted the box and took it across to the remaining workbench, stomach clenching as she lifted the lid.

  The dark interior held three objects, safe and intact, and her fingers trembled with relief as she set the lid aside. A tight roll of parchment in her own, untidy, writing. Ingredients and instructions for the second object, a single dose of the cleansing spell she had created for the ‘kin. A cleansing that could wash away the trace and taint of surjusi. And the third, more personal thing.

  “So, you are Named.” Zachary was at the other side of the bench, carrying a pair of mugs.

  She sat abruptly on the nearest stool, soot-marked but otherwise undamaged, her legs giving way, and stared at the third thing in the box.

  “It would seem so.”

  “Connected with your mark?” he asked. He was as curious as she was.

  She clenched her fingers together to stop her hand straying to the mark. High on her cheek, the faint outline of a curling leaf was imprinted on her skin. A mark of favour from the Erith heartland. She had not wanted it. No cosmetics would cover it, so she mostly ignored it.

  “No,” she answered his question. “Not connected.” The heartland did not give out Names. The heartland, she was quite sure, did not care about Names or the politics that the Erith played.

  He took a seat opposite and handed a mug across the surface. Hot chocolate. She had not realised there was any in the kitchen. She wrapped both hands around the mug, craving the warmth, eyes still on the scroll.

  Such a slender object to have caused such upheaval in her world. A length of parchment, ends banded with polished wood, tightly rolled and contained in an ornate holder. It had been the property of the Erith Queen, an unusual possession even for the Erith’s monarch. But then, for anyone born among the Erith, their families and Houses would usually hold on to their lineage with the family’s other records, even the wastrel sons or wayward daughters. The Erith took pride in their lineage, in their ability to trace back their ancestries, and every Erith understood, to the very core of their being, where they belonged. Which family. Which House.

  Not her. Seggerat vo Regersfel had told her, more than once, that she was an abomination. That her lineage was struck. That she had no Name. No House claimed her. No family wanted her. And even without a House or family to claim her, a Name conferred basic status on anyone within Erith lands. It was the most fundamental badge of citizenship. Without it, Arrow had no rights within Erith borders apart from the rights the Erith chose to give her. Rights which could be, and had been, taken away at a whim.

  That Seggerat had been her grandfather made his claims only more powerful and, until very recently, Arrow had believed him.

  Then she had been sent to the heartland. The Taelleisis. And met the Erith’s Queen, the ageing monarch brushing off Arrow’s suggestion that she was not Named.

  The Queen had been right. Seggerat had lied. Not only that, but he had somehow managed to destroy the copies of her lineage. A breach of a half dozen Erith laws at least. Effective, though, because no one could prove that Arrow was Named. Apart from the Queen who, for reasons of her own, had commissioned another copy of the Naming scroll.

  “May I look?” Zachary asked. Arrow blinked, realising she had been staring into space for a long while, heat slowly creeping through her fingers. The Prime was curious. She also knew him well enough to know that if she said no, he would respect that.

  “Yes.” She took one hand off the mug and gave the box a small push across the bench.

  He set his drink aside and took the scroll out of the box, handling it like a precious and fragile object. He seemed to know how Erith scrolls worked, getting the case off in a moment and then spreading the parchment the length of the bench, on the part of the surface miraculously free of soot or damage.

  Arrow found she could not look for a moment, although she had the entire thing committed to memory. Her lineage, recorded with all the pomposity and formalit
y one would expect from one of the oldest and most respected Erith Houses, back five generations on both sides of her parentage.

  There were signs that this was not a normal Naming.

  The designation of her father was merely recorded as “son of Serran vo Liathius”, with no Name of his own. She had frowned over that for a while, but there was no other clue on the scroll itself as to why Serran might have failed to Name his son.

  There was a small notation under her Erith name, clearly added some time after the original had been complete, as the handwriting was different. Eshan’s hand. After so many years taking instructions from him, it was unmistakable. The notation was: “Impure”. It was exactly the sort of comment she would have expected from Eshan, or his master.

  The sting was less than it might have been. Whatever Eshan or Seggerat might think of her, she was Named.

  Finally, there was a small mark at the bottom right-hand corner, just before the binding had been added. #3. A third copy. There were usually only two Naming scrolls made. One for the Erith’s own archives, and one for the House. Erith might have additional copies made as elaborate gifts, to celebrate their ancestors, or as part of betrothal negotiations to ensure each House had a record of the prospective partners’ lineage.

  A third copy held outside the family was unusual. And created after Eshan had made his note, the copier faithfully recording that later addition. Arrow did not understand why the Queen had the thing commissioned. The only explanation she had come up with was that Arrow’s mother, and Seggerat’s daughter, had been one of the Queen’s favourites.

  The Queen was no longer available to ask. And the how or why may not matter nearly as much as the fact that the record existed. The spells woven into the fabric bore the unmistakable traces of the Palace ward keepers, a single drop of her blood bound into the scroll’s fabric, the scroll authentic. She had no idea how the Queen had come to have her blood, simply one more of the many questions she would never be able to answer.

  And she could not demand answers from Seggerat, either. The leader of the Taellan was dead, too, suffocated while he slept by the Queen’s Consort. Noverian had been responsible for too much death, somehow hiding his murderous streak for many years before he decided to kill his Queen. Arrow’s mind served her an image of the Consort’s severed head, eyes wide in disbelief, his death by her hand. Even the memory brought the grey weight of death around her.

  “Mealla vel Liathius.” Zachary spoke her Erith Name, lips curving, words chasing away the memories. “I would bet that irked Seggerat, that his daughter placed you in Serran’s House.”

  Arrow gave a short laugh. Her chest hurt a little less. “I had not thought of that before.”

  Zachary rolled the scroll up and replaced it in the holder with the same care as he had unfurled it, returning it to its box. Arrow had to check an impulse to reach across and grab it back, tightening her hands on the cooling mug instead.

  “We’re arranging somewhere else for you to stay,” he began. “While we’re seeing to that, we have a safe in the muster house. It’s always guarded, and proofed against the usual hazards. We can look after this for you until you’ve got a safe place. And when you’re away. If you like.”

  The offer lodged something in her throat and made her eyes sting. Sometimes she forgot that Zachary had many more years of life than his face told, and that as well as being ruthless he was also dedicated to the care of his people. All his people. Even the awkward, adopted ones like her.

  “Thank you.” Those two words again, her voice hoarse. “I would greatly appreciate that.” She hesitated a moment. “There are ward spells built into the box.”

  “My people know better than to open a mage’s possessions,” Zachary answered, mischief lighting his face. She would guess that was a hard-won lesson by some. “We will guard your property as our own.”

  “You may want to keep the spell and the instructions separate,” she noted. “I …” She broke off, tilting her head, eyes travelling back to the destroyed cabinets. “I wondered what they were looking for. How …”

  “You get the same briefings I do,” Zachary commented, referring to the security briefings that Matthias and his team prepared. Significant events in the human world, bits and pieces of information that might or might not mean anything. “You’re thinking of the break-ins?”

  “Yes. Seven so far?”

  Seven high-profile human buildings had been broken into over the past few months. Longer than Arrow had been living in the human world. Began before the Erith and the ‘kin had worked together to defeat a surjusi-possessed human in an underground space created by humans. The burglaries seemed to have nothing in common apart from one, critical factor.

  “All the wards were down,” Zachary spoke the thought from her mind. She knew ‘kin could share information mind-to-mind, but was sure Zachary’s ability to read her thoughts was not some additional power. It was the single most notable fact about all seven crimes.

  “Not just down.” A shiver took over her whole body, knuckles white as she held her drink closer, trying to gather in the little warmth left in it. “The wards here were whole, intact, but simply set to dormant. I do not know of any spell that can do that.” She shivered again, edges of her sight blurring for a moment.

  “Wait here a moment.” Zachary’s voice was slightly distant. She stayed, stiff and still, on her stool, finally remembering to drink the hot chocolate. It had cooled to be almost tepid, but she welcomed the taste.

  When she had finished, setting the mug aside with a deliberate move, unpeeling her fingers from the handle, Zachary was back with, of all things, a white paper bakery bag in his hand. Not just one bag. Several.

  “It’s been a long night. Paul knows the owner.”

  Arrow’s brows lifted as she recognised the logo on the bag.

  “A very good person to know.”

  “Indeed. Here.” He passed over a takeaway cup. “More chocolate. I don’t think you need coffee just now.”

  “No.” She agreed.

  Zachary would not let her speak until she had eaten something. She was not sure what she ate. By the time the bags were empty, the hollow feeling in her middle had filled out and she was no longer shivering. And the hot chocolate was still hot.

  “The wards,” Zachary prompted.

  “Yes.” She straightened, about to answer, when the building’s wards flared, alerting her to someone approaching the building. “They are working now,” she told him. It was little comfort to know that the wards were working properly again as she still did not know how the wards had come down to start with.

  ~

  She made her way to the front door, realising as she moved that she was still wearing the bright pyjamas. Whoever it was would have to put up with them, she thought, before peering through the spyhole in the warded door to see two shifkin in human form approaching. Con and Will.

  As she opened the door, she found Zachary at her shoulder. He took one look at their faces and tilted his head back.

  “Inside.”

  They settled at the workbench again, Con and Will seeming quite comfortable sitting with their Prime. The safe box was closed, wards active, and the pair gave it one glance before turning their focus back to Zachary and Arrow.

  “You traced the escapee,” Zachary said, face grim. Arrow felt tension spread up her spine, a prickle across her skin. The Prime rarely looked so sombre.

  “Went straight back to the Collegia,” Will told them, voice equally grim. “No attempt to hide his trail.”

  The Collegia Magica. Highest authority in human magic. The equivalent, in some ways, to the Academy. The prickling intensified. Having human magicians break into the building was bad enough. That they came from the Collegia was far worse. The Collegia was based in a complex of older buildings a few miles away. Arrow had never been inside but had walked past several times, curious. The wards were dense, layered spells of human-made magic that had crackled in her second sight. The Colleg
ia’s wards had some attack capabilities built in, which had surprised her. Offensive magic in ward spells was a direct contravention of human laws, which the Collegia enforced. Not all humans could work magic, and the magic-blind did not want to find themselves under attack simply by walking too close to a building.

  As far as Arrow knew, all human magic users had trained at the Collegia, and many still lived there. Perhaps the Collegia masters thought that made them safe as none of their residents would report the breach of law. And who would anyone report the breach to, Arrow had realised, a sick feeling in her stomach. The masters of the Collegia were hardly likely to take enforcement action against themselves.

  And so the Collegia continued to be shielded by its illegal wards, the warren of buildings inside providing living and working spaces for most human magic users.

  Including one of the magicians who had breached her wards and had been rifling through her possessions.

  “The Magister must be aware.” Zachary was staring into middle distance, eyes flickering with power, face set.

  “We assume so,” Con agreed. “The night watch were not surprised to see someone coming through the front door at the hour.”

  “An approved raid?” Zachary speculated.

  Con shrugged, indicating he did not know.

  “We kept out of sight, just watched. We can go back,” the ‘kin suggested, a gleam coming into his eyes. “We will know him again.”

  Arrow’s stomach twisted, trying to imagine the impact of two armed ‘kin breaking into the Collegia’s headquarters. They could do it, she was quite certain. For all their enthusiasm, human magicians were generally far less powerful than Erith mages, and she had a sense that both ‘kin were experienced in battle.

  “The wards,” Arrow said abruptly.

  The ‘kin turned their attention to her, almost identical expressions of enquiry on their faces.

  “The wards here,” she waved a hand to indicate the workspace, “were not cut through but rendered dormant. I have never come across a spell that can do that.”