A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (4 page)

Johtu nodded, and left to disseminate orders. Folklore said the Betarr Serin houses occupied by the matriarchs had entrances to ancient tunnels, reputedly running throughout the plateau. At one time, these tunnels supported intrigue and surreptitious meetings between lineages. Supposedly there was no way out of the upper city or off the plateau through the tunnels, but Haversar made no assumptions. He wondered whether he should pass Jan any advice, perhaps a warning; did these hunches qualify as payment of life-debt? No, this was purely
personal
right now.

•••

Draius filed a report with the watch, so it was long after supper hour when she quietly let herself into the house. Jan’s aunt Anja, who became matriarch of the Serasa-Kolme after his grandmother started her path to the Stars, owned this stately bluestone house with marble architrave about the main door and front windows. The Serasa-Kolme also had a house up in Betarr Serin, but the new matriarch preferred to stay in Betarr Serasa, loaning the upper-city house to Jan’s sister.

When she married, Draius changed her lineal name to Serasa-Kolme, so now Lady Serasa-Kolme Anja alone considered the complaint of Jan’s infidelity. Draius hadn’t met Anja before she took the chance of exposing her marital problems. Their original contract was a standard, simple one that didn’t allow for infidelity. At this point, Jan probably regretted not getting the additional clauses that allowed one to seek comfort outside the marriage, sometimes needed to make arranged marriages bearable.

Anja was new to her position, but had been trained well. The matriarch needed to know how Jan felt toward his son, and whether there was a chance for more children from Jan and Draius. Anja had listened intently to the story and then asked, “Does Jan fulfill his duties as father and husband?”

“Peri adores his father, and Jan’s very attentive.” Draius could be confident about this, even if she no longer knew whether Jan could
love
anyone.

The matriarch’s questions became pointed and persistent, as well as embarrassing. “Do you still share a bed? Do you allow him to touch you?”

She’d flushed and stammered, and the truth came out. By the time she and Jan returned from Betarr Kain, they rarely slept together. Jan accused her of changing, becoming colder. His argument became self-fulfilling as he sought discrete dalliances, and she withdrew further.

But the last affair, after they came back to the sister cities, was different. It was
public
, and it was
serious
—Draius was aghast to learn how long he’d been seeing Netta and how open they’d been. She was humiliated and furious. When she first spoke to Lady Anja about it, she wanted retribution and satisfaction for her wounded pride. Matriarchs often meted out punishment: the term was “matriarchal justice for lineal matters.”

“Any action I take must be for the good of the family line. The
children
. So what can I do to mend your relationship?” Anja asked. “What could happen to allow Jan back in your bed?”

Draius had no answer. Matriarchal theory stated that children rarely resulted from unwilling or unhappy women. Tyrran women lived in the paradoxical world of arranged marriages where they were supposed to be content and satisfied. With the falling birth rate since the Fevers, it was no wonder that more contracts had comfort clauses and the taking of lovers had become common.

Anja decided to see if time could shrink the chasms between Draius and Jan. Her decisions were swift: Draius and Peri would move in with Anja, while Jan would live separately and without his lineal stipend. Jan had been livid and for once, he couldn’t hide his anger. But Anja stood firm. Since he couldn’t afford to rent a decent house with only his Guard salary and he wasn’t on good terms with his sister, Jan took officer rooms at the barracks rather than lease accommodations.

Draius quietly closed the large front door. This was a beautiful house, but after an erin it still didn’t feel like home. Living under Anja’s scrutiny made her uncomfortable. She suspected Anja wanted some decisions from her, but she felt ambivalent, rudderless and, worst of all,
responsible
. Time had frozen—everyone became motionless while they looked to her—as if she had the answers! So she had finally upped the stakes and made the complaint formal. She’d pushed her letter under Lady Anja’s parlor door when she’d departed for patrol duty, so early in the morning that no one else stirred within the house.

“You’re late,” Anja said, coming down the stairs. “Have you eaten? I can rouse Nin. She put some lamb aside for left-over.”

Lady Serasa-Kolme Anja was young for a matriarch. She appeared to be near Draius’s age and strangely, she was unmarried. Her high cheekbones and sharply sculpted nose were typical Tyrran. Like Jan, her eyes were unusually dark blue, but her silver-blond hair and eyebrows were definitely Meran, and so light they looked white in the lamplight. She had the same Serasa-Kolme inscrutability as Jan, but not the ability for displaying a mask of contrived emotion. Anja was dressed in her bedclothes, her hair tied back for the night. The lamp she carried threw her shadow back up the stairs to the second floor.

“No, please don’t bother. I lost my appetite at the Sea Serpent.”

“I heard the news from the crier. It’s all over town,” Anja said. “And a runner stopped by with a message from Captain Rhaffus. You’re to report to him tomorrow.”

On Ringday? Draius wearily nodded. She should have the day off. Instead, she’d be paying for this evening’s fit of temper and facing Erik’s insubordination charges. She pushed her dark thoughts aside and asked, “Is Peri in bed?”

“Yes, although he wanted to stay up for you. But Fairday or no, I want him in bed at a regular hour.”

“I spoke with Jan tonight. What has he been saying to Peri—and to what purpose?” The words came out harsher than Draius intended.

“I think he was talking about how you could be reunited. Peri became apprehensive, it seemed.” Anja made no attempt to qualify Jan’s secondary, and subtler, motives. Her own expression was impassive as she paused, searching Draius’s face in the lamplight.

When Draius didn’t reply, Anja lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I won’t keep him from his son. Jan has his parental rights, as do you.”

Her jaw was rigid with anger, but Draius managed a polite goodnight. After she stepped past the matriarch she realized that neither of them had mentioned the written complaint. She went to Peri’s room and, as usual, the boy was sleeping light.

“Ma?” The silver-blond head turned.

“I’m back, Peri. How ya doing?” She hugged him. “How was your eight-day?”

“Afternoon lessons have been so boring, I’m starting angles and calculations. Yesterday, I followed the unicorn—”

“Where’d you learn that word?”

“Ilke said it.” His gray eyes went wide. Peri’s cousin Ilke was precocious and bossy for nine years, but then, Draius had been the same at that age.
Before the Fevers
.

“Well, that’s a vulgar word. Ilke shouldn’t use that word for a phrenic element. They’re ‘the Phrenii’ and they’re not individuals.”

“They have names—we were with Dahni.”

“Their names are only for our convenience. Did you touch it?” A shadow passed over her heart. When would he be too old?

“Sure. Dahni showed us the northwest canal.”

“Don’t
ever
touch them if you don’t feel like it.” Of course, adult warnings weren’t necessary; everyone knew when he or she shouldn’t touch the Phrenii any more.

“I won’t.” He leaned against her for a few moments and she thought he had gone back to sleep. She marveled at his seven-year-old body: one moment he was awake and the next he was asleep.

He wasn’t asleep. “Da came to visit every morning.”

“I heard.”

“He says maybe we should move back to Betarr Kain. Then everything will be alright.” Peri ended with a lilt of question. He hadn’t been happy in Betarr Kain, where there were fewer children his age and only one Serasa-Kolme cousin, a much older boy.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with where we live.”

“But you came back here because of
me
—” Tears formed in her son’s eyes.

“Shush. Your Da and me—it has nothing to do with you or moving back to the sister cities.” She put a finger on his lips, while cold rage built into a rock of ice in her chest. Jan wasn’t above letting his own son feel guilty about his estrangement, particularly when he knew Draius would be compelled to step in and take the blame.
Because it’s my fault, isn’t it? I had to bring it up with Lady Anja, and I was so angry that I wanted to punish Jan. Now he’s pushing back on all fronts.

Peri didn’t say anything. He turned away, his body tense. He didn’t believe her empty assurances. Spending a moment in thought, she realized that Jan hadn’t noticed how happy Peri became after they’d moved here.

“Betarr Kain isn’t a fun place to grow up. After all, there was only your Da and me and you and cousin Jenni and her son. That’s not a
family
, is it?” She poked him lightly in the side to get a response.

He snorted. “I suppose not.”

“No, because you should grow up within the Serasa-Kolme. Think of all the things that Lady Anja and the sister cities can provide. The Pettaja tutor for you and your cousins. Your classroom. The canals. And we have the Serasa-Kolme offices and houses, as well as more horses and coaches—”

“And the markets. And Nin. She’s such a good cook.” Peri turned back, his expression lighter.

She started stroking his head. “Don’t forget the security of the Phrenii. Even though Jhari or Famri visited Betarr Kain once in a while, we always have two elements in the cities. Honestly, don’t you like it here better?”

“
Sure, but Da—
”

“Your Da is angry with me, and
only
me. We’re having grown-up problems—which makes for really boring arguments, believe me.”

“He’s angry with Lady Anja, too. About his stipend.” Peri yawned, drifting into sleep.

Her eyebrows rose. Perhaps she’d underestimated her son, although this could be the result of Peri having his older cousins about him. The vision of bossy, lanky Ilke, standing a head taller than Peri, made Draius remember her young years in the cities, running after the Phrenii with her Meran-Viisi cousins. She’d spent her afternoon lessons with two future kings and hadn’t they gossiped about the marriages and affairs of older cousins and parents? But that was too long ago. Her memories felt strangely remote, like they’d happened to a different Draius.

She kept stroking his head until he fell asleep. After kissing his forehead and inhaling the scent of his hair, she left for her room.

She hoped she wouldn’t toss about and relive the hurtful words she and Jan flung at each other. But after she snuggled into the featherbed, she dreamed about the Sea Serpent. Repeatedly, she ran down the gallery toward that bloody room, only to be whisked to the end of the gallery and run its length again.

CHAPTER SIX

Third Ringday, Erin Two, T.Y. 1471

Unfortunately, every step we take to save our tattered plans takes us deeper. We’ve gone past the point of no return.

I rousted my apprentice again. The clock rang three hours past midnight, when only Star Watchers were awake as they plot their precise maps of our ancestors. My employer knew where the double-dealing Sareenian ship owner could be found, and he dictated the time.

We were betrayed for Groygan gold, but what did it buy? We suspect the lodestone has gone beyond anyone’s control, and we will confirm this with the Sareenian. If I were a superstitious sort, I might believe our bad luck is due to a malevolent spell but my charms, unsophisticated but functional, indicate we’ve not been touched by any type of magic.

Yet bad luck hounds us. Our inept City Guard didn’t find the carefully planted evidence that proves Reggis a traitor and implicates the Groygans. We cannot turn the ship around, we cannot protect her from pirates, and we cannot prevent storms from hounding her—although we figure they become milder the further away from the Phrenii she sails. Most worrisome of all, is her valuable cargo still sound? Perhaps the ship owner can tell us more.

For me, this long night held even more disappointment. The ecstasy from the councilman’s death didn’t carry through to my next experiment. Alone, as my apprentice slept, I dared to try activating it: the shard of the Kaskea that should give me entry to the Void and the secrets of the Phrenii. After channeling such power this evening, I thought my blood might carry enough magic to cause an effect. Nothing happened. The small shard lay quiescent, covered with drops of my blood and mocking me, proving my common lineage better than any matriarch. I wrapped and hid it under the floorboards again, trying to put it out of my mind.

I busied myself with checking my blades and tools in the valise. I heard my apprentice struggling into his coat, already tight across his growing shoulders.

“Come along, we’ve work to do,” I called, as I snapped the valise shut.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Office of Investigation

COUNCILMAN MERAN
-
NELJA REGGIS BIZARRELY BUTCHERED! IS MAGICAL MURDER TOO MUCH FOR OUR BUNGLING CITY GUARD?

Chaos reigned last night at the Sea Serpent where Councilman Reggis was found brutally murdered. City Guard responded immediately, but didn’t control the ensuing confusion as looting and damage occurred in the Sea Serpent. City Guard Officer Meran-Kolme Erik admitted he was baffled (perhaps by the ale, being far into his cups?) He couldn’t explain how the councilman was disemboweled in a room with a locked door and no windows…

—The Horn & Herald, Third Ringday, Erin Two, T.Y. 1471

On any other Ringday the City Guard Headquarters would be quiet and minimally manned, but this morning it bustled with activity. Several watchmen sat at the front desk and the heavy oak benches were filled with bleary-eyed people. The lucky ones had staked out enough room on their bench to lie down, while others slept in sitting positions.

Looking them over, Draius recognized faces and realized the watch was still collecting statements from the Sea Serpent’s clientele. The scents of stale beer and unwashed bodies drifted about. She walked past the desk and down the cool stone hallway to the captain’s office.

“Take a seat, Draius,” said Rhaffus, the captain of the City Guard. He was a large man, filling the room with his presence. His hair had been dark at one time, but now it mingled with white and was cut to rest upon his shoulders, as dictated by current fashion. He had a precisely trimmed mustache and beard on his lined face, a face that indicated many hard years of service. It was impossible to tell whether he had spent a sleepless night, but she suspected he had.

The gaslight hissed comfortably and kept the office bright, and the small stove in the corner threw off enough heat to warm the stone room. Captain Rhaffus sat at his desk, his Guard officer sword and scabbard hung on the wall behind him.

The only other person in the room was Lornis, the new lieutenant, sitting quietly and writing. One hand rubbed his impeccably trimmed beard, and again, his uniform was spotless. She glanced down at her own and breathed deeply with relief. Someone had pressed her sleeves and brushed her jerkin. She couldn’t measure up to the dandy Lornis, but she was presentable; Anja’s household staff must have ensured this.

“I fired Erik last night,” Rhaffus said. “He’s no longer Officer in Charge of Investigation.”

The news lifted a weight from her, but she wasn’t too surprised. Jan’s plans were unfolding faster than she expected, but at least she needn’t worry about insubordination charges.

“I have no problem with my officers having a drink, but I expect them to be competent when called to duty. At the least, he could have turned the matter over to other officers. Instead, he let a drunken crowd trample the evidence!”

“Yes, ser.” She pictured Jan explaining to the captain, “I suggested Commander Erik should go home, ser, but he insisted on staying.” This had worked out well for Jan.

“Take a look at the greeting I had this morning.” Rhaffus tossed a folded
Horn & Herald
at her.

Draius opened the sheet that supposedly provided Tyrrans with the most relevant information from the sister cities. The smell of the ink was strong, so she handled it gingerly.

“COUNCILMAN MERAN-NELJA REGGIS BIZARRELY BUTCHERED,” screamed the top headline. She skimmed through the text until the end, where she read aloud, “Could this foul play be magical, as proposed by the Society for the Restoration of Sorcery? Even the City Guard won’t rule out this possibility!”

She snorted and put aside the flier. “Magical murder? Bungling Guard? Too bad the crass sensationalism doesn’t hide our own, er, inefficiency.”

“You mean
incompetence
, don’t you? This time, Erik went beyond embarrassing his Meran-Kolme ancestors. The Guard has been humiliated in front of King and country!” Rhaffus slammed his large hand down upon his desk with a loud smack. Both she and Lornis jerked in surprise.

“I’ve sent a message to Andreas, telling him he’s gone too far. Using this murder to advance his ridiculous society is unethical and he’ll only hamper our investigation.”

Andreas, the editor of the
H&H
, was known for his lack of taste and tact, as well as his unending quest for “truth.” Only an edict from the King could stop him, as some embarrassed King’s Council members discovered. Rhaffus considered Andreas a thorn in the side of the King’s Law.

“Too bad his only competition is
The Recorder
.” Lornis referred to the other publication in the sister cities, which printed a dry rendering of births, deaths, marriage contracts, import and export shipments, production figures, and currency rates.
The Recorder
was published once an eight-day, as opposed to the daily
H&H
.

Although many Tyrrans disapproved of Andreas’s operation, the
H&H
was widely read and no one volunteered to produce a different daily paper. Rumor said Andreas couldn’t cover his costs printing the
H&H
and while this might be a fine hobby for a gentleman with means, Draius didn’t think a daily publication could ever turn a profit.

“There’s nothing to be done about what Andreas prints, Captain, unless you petition a magistrate,” she said. “If you’re patient, he’ll pauper himself and close down. Surely you didn’t call me in on Ringday morning to talk about the
H&H
.”

“Of course not. Since they mucked up the scene before I arrived, I’d like you to recall everything you saw in the room.”

“I put in a summary report—”

“I need a
picture
of the crime scene. Now.” Rhaffus picked up his pen, expectant.

Having done this before, when Rhaffus was only a commander and the OIC of Investigation, Draius closed her eyes and began.

“Councilman Reggis is lying across the center of the room, his feet pointing toward the door. His hands and feet are pinned to the floor with nails and there’s a deep incision lengthwise down his abdomen. He’s been disemboweled, and his fingers cut off. I didn’t see those separated members anywhere. There’s so much blood.” She swallowed. “Blood on the floor and walls. Too much blood for one man, it seems.”

“You’re right. We’ve found something that looks like pig hair in the blood on the walls. Go on.”

“A circle of blood is painted around the body, with filled circles at each hand and foot. A sign is drawn in blood on the wall facing the door, so it aligns over the head of the body.”

“Was this it?” Rhaffus held up a hand-drawn diagram of concentric circles with a scribed letter “N” in the center. He laid it in front of her, with a pen.

“I think there was more of a tail on the ‘N’ at the bottom, so that it entwined with the inner circle.” After leaning forward to adjust the diagram, she sat back and closed her eyes again.

“There’s a low table to the right of the body. On it is arranged, from left to right: a change purse, a stoppered glass vial with something black in it, a similar vial with something white in it, and two folded pieces of parchment. A chair against the right wall has a folded cloak on it, the same color as the cloak he was wearing in the common room. On the floor are scattered coins.”

“How many?”

“Hmm.” Her eyes stayed closed. “I see six halves and two tenths, but the blood could be covering more.”

“Most of that evidence disappeared.” The captain’s voice was grim. “The vials were found on the floor, cracked, but with their contents intact. The coins, change-purse, and documents, if they were documents, are gone. When I reached the Sea Serpent, Erik was puking on the gallery floor, the crowd had moved the body downstairs, and the staff was cleaning up the room. Can you believe it?”

Captain Rhaffus barged on, not expecting an answer. “Reggis must have been knocked out with a quick-acting poison prior to his death, because no one heard screams. He was unconscious or deceased by the time they started cutting him up—and they had little more than half an hour to do their butchering. Do you remember anything more, Draius?”

After a pause, she shook her head and opened her eyes. “I only had a few seconds to look about.”

Lornis stared at her open-mouthed, while Rhaffus laughed. “What did I tell you, Lieutenant? A memory that paints a picture.”

Lornis looked down at his notes. “From my own—inadequate—memory, I’ve written down what I saw and what the barmaid told me. She claimed she was meeting Reggis after her shift and used the key he gave her to get into the locked room. She insisted, multiple times, that this was a tryst of the heart and no money was involved.”

“When did you last see the councilman alive, Draius?” asked Rhaffus.

She pictured Councilman Reggis at the top of the stairs, leaning over the balustrade and gesturing to the barmaid, pointing to the
third
room!

“Ser!” She sat straight up in her chair. “You’ve got to examine the third room on the gallery. He intended to meet the girl in that room, yet we found his body in the
fourth
room.”

Captain Rhaffus stood up and shouted for his aide, who appeared at the door. Rhaffus gave him orders to seal off the whole gallery of rooms at the Sea Serpent.

“I never thought to ask
where
she expected to meet the councilman. I figured their appointment was in the room where his body was found.” Lornis made another note.

“By now there won’t be anything left to find.” Rhaffus cursed Erik, mumbling, but clearly enough for her to hear. He stomped back to his desk and sat down, making the chair creak. “I didn’t call you here solely to get your view of the room. I’m offering you Officer in Charge of Investigation.”

She was speechless.

“You’ve earned the position,” Rhaffus said. “You’ve got the experience. I made a mistake when I promoted Erik, by not going with my instinct—which says you’re the one for this job.”

“But I’m only a lieutenant commander.” Full commanders usually filled Officer in Charge (OIC) positions.

“Well, this case could bring an early promotion for you. Or, it could bring an early end to your career.” The captain’s eyes glinted.

Draius caught the implication as well as the threat, but the deputy position worried her more. Erik had already selected Jan and after seeing him climb over most of his commanders, she didn’t know if she could work with him. Trying to find another name, of
any
other suitable candidate, she mentally ticked off the roster of Guard officers in Betarr Serasa. Unfortunately, with Erik gone, the only officers left with any investigative experience were Captain Rhaffus and herself.

Using a neutral tone, she asked, “Will Jan still be deputy?”

“No, I’m moving Jan to Deputy of City Defense. After all, he’s Serasa-Kolme, and they built most of our city walls.”

Jan wouldn’t be penalized, since that was a lateral move, but he wouldn’t be grateful. He’d obviously hoped to move into OIC of Investigation, which was a crucial position for career advancement. Every captain of the City Guard had done a stint as OIC of Investigation, including the one sitting before her. In fact, Rhaffus had gone straight to the captaincy from it.

“What do you say, Draius?”

She hesitated. She’d always let her career be subordinate to Jan’s. She’d been offered a position in the King’s Guard immediately after her marriage to Jan, but he had to take a post with the Betarr Kain City Guard. She moved with him to Betarr Kain, where Peri was born. When Peri was old enough for afternoon lessons, Jan managed to get a post in Betarr Serasa. Once they’d moved back to the sister cities she didn’t reapply to the King’s Guard, which would mean continual patrols outside the sister cities, and always being away from her son and her husband. Instead, she took work with the City Guard in the Office of Budget and Analysis, which was considered a dead-end position.

From Budget she quickly moved to Investigation, which was a rewarding job under Rhaffus. When Rhaffus was promoted and replaced by Erik, however, the Office of Investigation became a place of drudgery. Now she was being rewarded with the offer of a good position, one that promised advancement in the Guard. If she accepted, the bad news was that every ambitious officer, including Jan, would be angling to replace her. To stay in this position, she’d have to be politically astute and dodge any negative publicity—Erik being the cautionary example.

“Well? You shouldn’t turn this down in favor of Jan,” Rhaffus added. “In my opinion, he’s just not right for this position. If you don’t accept, I’ll find a different officer.”

Rhaffus couldn’t know the reason she hesitated; she knew what Jan was capable of when he felt wronged. She remembered the officer in the Betarr Kain Guard whom he felt had been promoted, unfairly, ahead of him. He’d methodically ruined the man, exploiting a gambling weakness until his rival resigned in disgrace and killed himself. Jan never expressed any remorse, even when she confronted him, and she’d never mentioned it to anyone. She wondered if that was all that held them together: his confidence in her discretion, and her obligation to strengthen his conscience. She took a deep breath.

“I’ll take the position,” she said.
I can’t live in fear of my own husband. What can he do to me that he hasn’t done already?
She felt a surge of satisfaction, but whether it came from the retribution against Jan or from honest fulfillment, she didn’t know.

“Good! I’m going to try Lornis here as your deputy. You’ll have two watchmen and a clerk, although you’ll share the clerk with the Offices of Budget and Analysis.”

She glanced over at Lornis who was, even at his age, an inexperienced lieutenant. “Ah, ser?”

“Yes?” Rhaffus was looking down at his notes, obviously finished with their discussion.

“Can we talk about my staff, ser? Perhaps in private?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lornis look down and flush. Rhaffus frowned, but she plowed onward, “Shouldn’t I have a more experienced staff? The Councilman’s murder is high priority.”