A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (26 page)

“Don’t let your failure in marriage taint your professional work,” Anja said. “And don’t let Jan affect your confidence. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite suited for the Guard. You just need to change your circumstances.”

After those strange words, Lady Anja dismissed her.

•••

It was after noon on Fairday. Draius and Usko were the only ones in the outer office when Lornis arrived. His skin was pale and while he carried a cane, he didn’t use it. His uniform, as always, was pristine and after he settled himself in a chair at the table, he gave Draius a dazzling smile.

“Well, at least your spirits are high,” she said.

“I feel better than I look. Does that make any sense?”

Usko kept his gaze down and ignored their conversation. Perhaps the clerk felt guilty about Lornis’s condition, suspecting the conspirators had been involved in the attack.
Well, a healthy amount of guilt isn’t a bad thing, especially if it helps him cooperate
. Unfortunately, thinking about the attack caused her own pangs of guilt and she glanced down at the table, also avoiding eye contact with Lornis.

“Miina is on watch duty and Ponteva’s making one last attempt to identify Taalo’s apprentice.” She gestured at the piles of papers. “Usko and I are looking for information on the
Danilo
Ana
, the ship that carried the lodestone out of port.”

Usko cleared his throat and adjusted the spectacles on his nose so they were precisely straight. “We discovered that Tellina was filing a claim for the
Danilo Ana
with Vakuutis-Nelja underwriters. This was risky for Taalo and the other conspirators, so that may be why they murdered Tellina.”

Shipowners often insured their cargoes with underwriters. It was an advanced form of gambling: underwriters bet the losses would be minimal and their income would cover them, while ship-owners gambled that compensation for losses would make up for payments. What was ludicrous was that the most common cause of loss to shippers in these days was piracy, and piracy wasn’t covered any more. Only when cargo was lost to “natural tragedy during safe passage” could a claim be made, and then multiple forms of proof of value were needed to make the underwriters pay off.

“They didn’t want Tellina to submit the claim because it would bring unwarranted attention to the ship?” Lornis asked.

“Tellina was risking exposure of the conspiracy so he could recover the cost of the vessel.” Draius hoped she’d never have to explain any of these details to Maricie.

“What he was doing was doubly deceitful,” Usko said. “Underwriters require a legal assessment of the cargo and written guarantees that nothing dangerous is being transported. Tellina couldn’t truthfully provide an assessment or such a guarantee.”

“He doesn’t sound like a follower of the Way of the Light,” Lornis said.

She looked sharply at him. There was more naiveté in his voice, and his words, than she liked. “People often have misplaced loyalties.” She winced and looked away from his wide brown eyes. This hit closer to home than she liked, and her voice became harsher. “I’ve heard that Groygan thieves favor the goddess Erina, yet the Mistress of Time doesn’t condone thievery.”

Her voice became strident, and she felt as guilty as Usko looked. The clerk shuffled papers into piles, keeping his head bowed. Lornis cocked his head and looked at her quizzically—she was suddenly reminded of Dahni. For a moment she panicked. How much empathy could Lornis have from the phrenic healing? Could he read her mind? What followed was bitter accusation.
I wouldn’t be in this position, if not for Jan
. There was only one reason to keep her knowledge about the attack within the Serasa-Kolme, as Anja requested, and that was for Peri’s well being.

“Officer Draius and I are searching for a possible Groygan connection,” Usko said in a quiet voice, bringing Draius back to the business at hand.

“The fact that the conspirators are convinced the ship went down strengthens my suspicions that the ship sailed for Chikirmo, and that Groygans may be involved,” she said.

“How did you make that connection?” Lornis looked bewildered.

“Rhobar controlled the pirating around the southern Angim, and the King’s Guard is convinced he did his deeds with Groygan knowledge. Not necessarily as a privateer, but they feel Rhobar couldn’t have operated as freely as he did without Groygan blessings.”

“Ah. You think the conspirators had a Groygan benefactor, someone with enough authority to give the ship safe passage. That’s why they think the ship is still out there,” Lornis said.

“That’s my guess.” She was pleased, almost irrationally so, that the healing hadn’t dulled him. “Meanwhile, I need you to figure out where Vanhus fits in this whole thing. The Purje-Kolme matriarch is already pestering the captain for the return of these records.” She dumped a pile of papers in front of Lornis.

“Yes, ser,” Lornis said cheerfully, making her eyes narrow. How was it possible for him to be in such good humor, when faced with that pile?

Lornis set out paper, pen, and ink for notes, and started. There was quiet in the office, save for the scratching of his pen and murmured comments as Usko identified something he thought Draius should read.

After several hours, the lieutenant gave a little whoop and looked at them with a bright smile. “I found the connection. Taalo said they lost ‘seven of the excavating team,’ is that correct?” Lornis asked Usko.

“Yes, I believe that’s what Taalo said,” the clerk answered cautiously.

“Vanhus wasn’t only involved in imports and exports. He also ran exploration teams. Over a period of five erins, he paid out
seven
death compensations to various lineages, and each compensation is noted as an ‘excavation accident.’“

Draius harrumphed. She’d looked through that same pile a day ago, and hadn’t caught the significance of the death compensations. Lornis found the connection within hours. Her ability to hold onto the details was slipping, with everything else. “So Vanhus worked for the conspirators, possibly to find the lodestone. But why kill him?”

The door opened, and all three looked up as Ponteva entered. “I still have no name or lineage for the apprentice, and I’ve gone to every matriarch within the sister cities to check for missing persons. Norsis had to send the body to the anonymous pyre operated by the hospital.”

She’d been hoping for more; now she only had her theory that the boy was killed because he knew too much. She didn’t think Taalo was the bash-in-the-head type. She easily pictured him with knives, using scientific precision, but she couldn’t see him wielding a club. Taalo probably had someone else take care of his apprentice.

“How sad for the boy.” Lornis shook his head. “To have no one by your pyre, no one to call your ancestors to lead your way to the Stars.”

She’d never considered herself spiritual. However, she was affected by Lornis’s words and not wholly because of the death of a nunnetton. She hadn’t attended her father’s pyre; by the time she’d received the letter from Meran-Viisi Nuora, he was dead. It was 1465 and although her father had been ill, he hadn’t been expected to die—he was only 79 years old. Now she wondered who had been at the pyre to sing for her father. He had transferred to the Meran-Viisi from the Meran-Kolme, so Draius had placed his ashes into the Meran-Viisi reliquary with hardly a thought. Worse, she didn’t remember mumbling a request to her ancestors for his safe passage.

She came out of her reverie to notice Lornis watching her.
By the Horn, what is he doing to me?
She had half a mind to ask him to leave the room. Instead, she looked out the window to see the clouds flaming from the sunset. She dismissed everyone and Usko, still under arrest, left with Ponteva.

Lornis stood up a bit stiffly, using the cane. “Well, I need more rest and large quantities of food.” His tone was light, but he looked tired.

“Are you feeling well?” Draius asked.

He paused. “Are you asking as my commander, or as my friend?”

“Does it matter?”

He looked at her carefully, and she dropped her gaze. “It probably matters more to me than it does to you,” he said softly.

“Look, Lieutenant—”

“I know I make you uncomfortable, but it’s not me. It’s you. You’re hiding something and it’s going to crush you. I’m warning you, because I—I care about you.”

She was speechless while Lornis made a dignified exit. After he left, she mechanically filed away the evidence important to the case in a marked box.

Twilight softened the streets as Draius left the office. She hailed a carriage, but paused before giving the driver her home address. Changing her mind, she said, “The Meran-Viisi reliquary, and hurry.”

Since her intentions were obvious, the driver did his utmost to get her up the plateau and to the reliquary in Betarr Serin before the stars came out. She tipped him well before hurrying through the arches into the place where 700 years of Meran-Viisi ancestral ashes were kept.

All reliquaries were open to the night skies, and inside there were about thirty people getting ready for star-rise. Not everyone went to the pubs on Fairday evening; some went in pursuit of spiritual peace. She seated herself cross-legged upon the mats laid out on the stone floor, and looked up as the stars became visible. While the Meran-Viisi constellation slowly rose in the spring night, she sang with the others as her ancestors came into sight.

“Reach to the Stars, o soul who now wanders. Strive for the Stars, for home, family, and peace.”

As the familiar chant continued, Draius watched the clear night sky. Under her breath, she recited her ancestor’s names as she looked to each point of light.
Although this is belated, Father, I wish you safe passage on your journey. May you find peace and your own place in the firmament.

Suddenly a star flared across the night sky, so bright that Draius saw the trail after she closed her eyes. There were murmurs within the reliquary; something important was happening. The Star Watchers, in consultation with the Phrenii, would have to interpret this portent.

chapter Twenty-Nine

Second Fairday, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471

Last evening, I thought we lost our wielder, but he pulled through. This time, however, we barely had any time to look for the lodestone before he collapsed. I attempted to speak with my employer about his unsuitable assistant.

“If he goes mad?” I asked. “What will we do?”

“I have contingencies,” was the answer. “Leave it be, since you have a different task. We must deal with the clerk. He’s under watch every hour of the day and we’ll have to do it remotely, with charms. Can you do it?”

My heart was beating fast. Yes, I could do it, but… “I’ll need specialized charms, powerful ones. I’d have to make more.”

“I figured that.” My employer motioned for me to follow. He grabbed a lamp to light a musty hallway. As he led, our footsteps creaked on cracked floorboards. At the end of the hallway was a door. My employer unlocked and threw it open, holding the lamp high.

“Can you do anything with
that
?” His deep voice reverberated in the close hallway and room, and caused a pile of rags in the corner to flinch and twitch.

I took the lamp from my employer and stepped slowly into the room, which held nothing to help the boy who huddled in the corner. He looked to be as young as ten, or perhaps as old as twelve years. His face was a patchwork of green and yellow bruises.

“What’s your name, son?” I asked in a friendly tone. I’ve always been good with children, so I got the desired effect. The boy looked at me with hope.

“Sk—Skuva, ser,” he stammered. “Can I go now?”

There was no doubt he was nunetton. No one, even a child, in this situation would have withheld his lineal name.

“In a while, Skuva. We’ll release you, never worry.” I kept my tone reassuring.

After I closed the door and we walked back down the hall, my employer said, “He’s only a nunetton pickpocket, but he’s young. Are you too squeamish to use him?”

I knew my employer’s disdain for the forgotten nameless, but I also knew his own lineage was dying. He might as well be nunetton himself. “Why do you ask?”

“You told the boy he’d be released.”

“Oh. The release I speak about is the release of his soul to its journey. Subjects should always have hope, so they hold onto their life tightly, making their pain more powerful.”

My employer grunted. “I never cease to be amazed by your ruthlessness.”

I had been thinking the boy’s youth would add new points to my collection of data, making my numbers more reliable. I got a bit huffy. “I merely maintain scientific objectivity.”

“Whatever you say. But use the nunetton
slowly
. It’s getting more difficult to snatch subjects for you. Something in the wind has made them scurry into their holes.”

I raised my eyebrows as we parted. It wasn’t the “wind” the nunetton feared, or even the rumors of disappearances. An oppressive pall hung over the sister cities, as if every inhabitant drew in their breath for strength, holding it, in fear of what was coming. This went for the elementals as well; they hadn’t been seen roaming the streets in their phrenic form, followed by children, for several days. I wondered whether they hid inside the Void and searched for the Lodestone. No doubt, they also searched for us.

From behind, I saw my employer’s huge shoulders were hunched. I believe he also hears the footsteps of doom following him, and he’s become desperate. When our group meets, there’s always an undertone of hopelessness and failure. Others must feel this also—and I’ve planned accordingly. My notes and minimal effects have been packed for days.

I’m ready to leave. I just need to know where to go.

chapter Thirty

Murder By Magic

I send this to your Lordships by fastest ship possible, because timing is crucial. Last night, a star sped across the Tyrran sky and might have been seen from Groyga. While we know this to be a whim of the gods and not subject to interpretation, the Tyrrans are atwitter because their Star Watchers have predicted an important decision for Tyrra. This can be used to my Lords’ advantage: the populace will be easily distracted by any proposal we make, regardless of how distasteful the proposal may be for Perinon and his Council. As always, I remain your servant, dedicated to Groygan expansion.

—Letter from Ambassador Velenare Be Glotta to the Groygan Council of Lords, in the Tyrran Year 1471

Ringday dawned with a clear sky and Draius lay dozing, trying to resist the morning light. She heard Peri downstairs chattering to the staff, Maricie admonishing him for being in his nightshirt, followed by the sound of bare feet running up to his room. Pushing her head deeper into the down, she tried to keep the rest of the world outside of her warm safe cocoon. The house and Anja and her servants were starting to feel like
home
.

She took her time getting out of bed, washing, and dressing. She reached for her civilian clothes, glad to forgo the usual uniform. The weight of the ever-present locket plus shard was becoming so familiar she barely noticed it.

Peri was so excited about the carnival he couldn’t sit and eat his breakfast. Anja finally gave up and let him leave the table. She and Draius continued to eat in silence, the previous night’s discussion regarding Jan lying heavily on them.

Draius was busy worrying about her future. Anja had decisions to make, because Jan’s actions caused ramifications beyond their contract and there was the entire Serasa-Kolme lineage to consider. Anja had the power to take Jan’s lineal name from him and ostracize him—the most extreme punishment possible. On the other extreme, Anja might do nothing. Draius couldn’t make a guess as to what awaited her and Jan; the matriarch’s inscrutable Serasa-Kolme face didn’t give her any clues.

Draius and Peri walked to the market square since the weather was mild. The streets weren’t muddy, only moist from a light spring rain. In an erin or two, summer would be entrenched and walking through the streets would be a choking experience as carriages raised the dust.

Peri skipped here and there, humming. As always, he was full of questions. “Do you think the Phrenii will be at the carnival?”

“I don’t know.” The creatures hadn’t been seen much lately; everyone remarked upon that. However, there would be children at the carnival, many without adult supervision, because they should always be safe within the sister cities. The children might attract the Phrenii—and vice versa.

“Will they come to see the sleight-of-hand tricks?” Peri stumbled over the unfamiliar words.

“No, the Phrenii probably aren’t interested in that.”

Peri bounced on to other topics. “Why do carriages have springs under them?”

“So they can carry passengers safely over the holes in the streets.”

“Can we travel up the Whitewater with Da this summer?”

She paused. Luckily, she didn’t have to answer Peri because the crowd at the Canal Street intersection diverted both of them. People lining both sides of the street blocked their intended path. “What’s going on?”

Peri was craning his neck and jumping this way and that to get a better view. Surprisingly, he answered her. “I think they’re transporting Rhobar up to Betarr Serin. Our tutor talked to us about this.”

Hmm
. She raised an eyebrow, embarrassed that her young son knew more about what was happening in the cities than she did, and she was City Guard.

“They’re coming!” Peri raised his arm and pointed southward. The reason he could see the procession was that the King’s Guard had chosen to transport Rhobar in an open cage on a wagon platform, making him visible above the heads of the crowd. Tyrra was making a point, ensuring that the entire Mapped World knew that the rumors were true: Tyrra has captured the pirate Rhobar and crushed his band of thugs.

On either side of the platform rode a line of King’s Guard to keep the crowd back and the prisoner secure. Draius saw Bordas riding beside the wagon team, but this wasn’t the time to wave or call out greetings. There were four mounted Guards to each side of the wagon. The use of King’s Guard also made a statement: Rhobar wasn’t just a criminal—he was a threat to King and country. Where he was being taken, no one knew, but there weren’t any magistrates in his future.

“Ilke said he’s dashing and handsome.” Peri looked up at the passing figure, whose wrists were manicled to the cage.

Draius had to agree with Ilke. Even more surprising was the presence the pirate exuded. He kept a calm, noble demeanor, despite the shouted insults and occasional rotten vegetable hurled his way. He didn’t ignore the crowd, but rather tried to make eye contact, smiling every once in a while. She wondered if he was acting or if he had really so easily accepted his situation.

“Do you think he’s handsome, Ma? Some of the girls say he’s too pretty to be evil.”

Peri’s question pulled her out of her reverie. “Ah. Well. Darkness and evil hides in all sorts of people—so attractiveness has nothing to do with honor or character. Some even think that darkness hides more readily behind an attractive face, but I think it’s best to judge a person by their actions and decisions, not their looks.”

“But Ilke says they’re going to torture him for information. Is that the right thing to do?” Peri asked, as the crowd dispersed and they continued toward the market square.

The “right thing” was relative; was it the
moral, ethical
,
honorable
,
correct
, or just the
expedient
action to take? Did the security of the Tyrran people, the Phrenii, and the King override all other considerations? After seeing Rhobar herself, this was an awkward issue that she didn’t want to explore—not with her young son on a Ringday when she was off duty. Again she was saved. They turned the corner and the carnival came into view. Peri couldn’t contain himself and started leaping along with glee. She stretched her legs to keep up with him.

“What’s your hurry, boy?” boomed a voice to the side of the market square. Berin strode over to them. He grabbed Peri, swung him around, and then hoisted him up on his shoulders.

Peri squealed. “I can see everything from here,” he said when he got his breath back.

And Peri
was
determined to see everything. No booth could be passed without inspection, no game untried. She was glad she brought a handful of tenths, which she broke into pithes for playing the games. She was weary of all the variations of ring and basket tosses by mid-morning, but thankfully the performances started. There were three small stages set about the square and the acts would rotate to each stage. They saw many amazing feats: a juggler, three astounding acrobats, and a sword swallower. Although Draius assured Peri that no real magic was involved, she herself wondered how they did some of their tricks.

There was an intermission at mid-day so the food merchants could sell their wares to the hungry crowd. They had mutton-on-a-stick and fried bread covered in sugar. She hoped Peri wouldn’t get sick later, but that was the chance she had to take.

Ponteva found them as she made Peri wipe his hands on one of the large handkerchiefs she had the foresight to bring. “Ser, I have unfortunate news,” Ponteva said in an undertone. “Usko’s dead.”

“Did Taalo show?” Her attention was diverted from her son’s greasy hands and back to murderers and smugglers. She’d hoped the conspirators would try to clean up their leak, and she wasn’t a bit surprised that Usko didn’t survive the confrontation.
Hmm—only a couple of eight-days as OIC and look how cavalier I’ve become with other people’s lives.

“Uh, no,” said Ponteva. His eyes flitted to Peri meaningfully; he was uncomfortable making the report in front of the boy.

Peri, however, realized that his carnival day might be quickly brought to an end. “I don’t have to leave, do I?” He was winding up for a negotiation about whether he could be left at the carnival on his own, and with how much money.

There were no Phrenii to be seen at the carnival, so there would be no safety net for an inquisitive child. Draius stopped Peri short with an abrupt motion of her hand. He knew his mother well, and his face crumpled.

“I know we usually consider the streets safe, Peri.” Thoughts of strangers with powder weapons flitted through her mind. “But times are changing and you’re growing up. Besides, the Phrenii aren’t here—”

“Why can’t I stay with the boy?” Berin asked. “I can have him home before the sun sets.”

“Please, Ma?” Peri brightened as he saw his Ringday salvaged.

This day wasn’t going the way she’d planned, either, but Peri would still be able to see the magicians perform. So, after foisting all her handkerchiefs on Berin and admonishing both of them to be gentlemen, Draius left with Ponteva.

•••

There was nothing the watchmen could do to prevent Usko’s death and they protested this several times as they told Draius the story.

Ponteva and Miina had kept Usko under observation throughout the previous evening. Usko carefully stayed within his ordinary routine and they followed him home to his flat near the edge of the market district. Miina was stationed near the front stoop of the opposite building, and another watchman was positioned in the back alley, where windows to Usko’s third floor flat of rooms could be seen. Nothing happened until late evening, when a packet arrived. Usko had tipped the courier, and gone back into the flat. The lights in the flat went out at an appropriate bedtime.

Ringday morning, the clerk didn’t come out to pick up his milk. By mid-morning, when Ponteva and another watchman came to release them, Miina voiced her concern regarding the souring liquid. They went up to the third floor flat and knocked. There was no answer. The four watchmen broke in, then found Norsis and Draius as soon as they could.

Usko’s body was sprawled face down, and looked as if he was trying to crawl toward the door of his flat. Gold tyr coins, more than Draius had ever seen, lay about the clerk and his mouth was
stuffed
with them. His open eyes were cloudy with dust and his face showed terror and disbelief.

“You heard nothing and no one entered the flat?” Draius asked for the third time.

Miina shook her head, white-faced. She was probably feeling shock and guilt, as well as working on very little sleep.

“Miina, have the watch notify the Pettaja-Kolme,” Draius said. “But they must make it clear that there’ll be no access to the body, or these rooms, until we’re finished.”

Miina looked relieved as she left. Draius also released the other watchman who had stayed through the night.

“Where’s the packet that was delivered to Usko?” she asked.

She examined the leather parcel carefully without touching it. It lay on the other side of the body, opened, and with untied twine about it. There might have been coins still inside it, but no one wanted to touch the parcel to check. The courier had been questioned, but couldn’t provide any information. He was a professional messenger: the packet and fee for his services had been left at his advertised drop. The man supposed, from the packet’s weight, that it contained gold—so he was also honest.

“Amazing that someone would be foolish enough to leave that much gold at a courier drop,” Ponteva said.

“He was being paid off,” the other watchman said.

“I doubt he choked himself voluntarily with these coins,” she said. “What have you found, Norsis?”

The thin coroner was listening to their conversation. “You’re right, Officer Draius. A man would choke and vomit if he attempted this himself. Also, the tyr are packed so hard into his gullet that I’ll only be able to remove them by cutting open his body.”

“Is it possible someone used a tool to push the coins into him?” She stared at Norsis, who shrugged with one of his thin shoulders.

“There’s no evidence of any tool use, or that anyone else was in this room,” he answered.

She looked around the room again, memorizing the neatness. “How odd,” she muttered to herself.

“Officer Draius, you better come see this.” Ponteva stood at the street-side window, his eyes wide.

She went to the window and looked down. Three of the Phrenii stood on the opposite sidewalk, and they were all looking up at the window where they stood. She noted the faceted eye colors: green, blue, and brown. Water, air, and earth. Dahni, Jhari, and Sahvi. Healing, prescience, and influence. Fire was the missing mundane element, representing the aspect of protection, because Famri was stationed in eastern Tyrra to be close to the Saamarin and the Groygan border.

Every one of the Phrenii near the sister cities was here except the keystone—then Mahri, with the golden eyes, trotted down the street and stood in front of the other three. Spirit had arrived and the phrenic circle was functional. It was an unprecedented confluence of the elementals and children were quickly gathering. She drew in her breath sharply.

“Why are they here?” Ponteva rubbed his sparse beard nervously.

She was spooked also, having never seen more than two of the Phrenii in one place before. “I think they want to speak with me.”

Ponteva shot her a glance.
Better you than me
, his face said.

The children had become a mob by the time Draius strode onto the street. The combined power of the four Phrenii caused everyone’s hair to lift and move, affected by some unseen and unfelt breeze. The air tingled against her face and there was ringing in her ears. The effect on the children was extraordinary: they were chattering, squealing, laughing, running around the creatures, stroking them with their hands, and laying their cheeks against the luminous coats. There were more children here than Draius had seen at the carnival. She waded through them to stand in front of Mahri, a careful pace beyond the reach of the creature’s horn.