A Murder of Mages (27 page)

“This morning has been full of indignities,” Minox said in an equally low voice. “We shouldn’t dwell on them.”

Inspector Rainey nodded. Loud enough for Mirrell and Kellman to hear, she said, “He just ran out of here, dark clothes and masked face.”

“We didn’t see a blazing thing,” Kellman said. “Our attention’s been elsewhere, eh, Tricky?”

Mirrell took in the whole scene, eyes darting glances to the roof of the Light and Stone house. “He killed her up there, and threw the body onto the steps?”

Inspector Rainey nodded, limping over to the body of Jaelia Tomar, clearly not worried about being in the field of fire. The Light and Stone women, the Firewings, and the Constabulary all kept their guard up. She looked up at the whole scene, seeming to drink it in for the first time. “It looks like we all had some excitement.”

“Had, Tricky?” Kellman asked.

Rainey flashed a bloody grin at the Inspector. Minox was worried about her state of mind. She looked at the two pages, both of whom hadn’t moved an inch since Minox came out of the house. “Where’s the wagon, boys?”

“It’s coming,” one of them offered meekly.

“Good, good,” she said. She glanced down at Harleydale, still lying on the ground. “Welling, can we clear the street?”

“You think it’s that easy?” Mirrell asked.

“Are we arresting anyone?” Rainey responded. She squatted down next to Harleydale. “Are we going to have to take you in, sir?”

“Don’t talk to me that way, young woman!”

She leaned in close to Harleydale, her tone jovial. “Go inside, sir. Bring your wives or whoever they are with you.”

“You can’t—”

Inspector Rainey’s voice dropped to a deathly whisper. “I am an officer of the law who has given you an order in the public square, sir. Comply or you will be jailed.”

Harleydale reached his hand out to the Light and Stone women, who came down and pulled him to his feet. The four of them all climbed the steps and went back into the house. Harleydale stopped at the door. “This is not resolved. Mark this, Inspector Welling. You have made a choice today.”

“Go on, you all,” Kellman told the Firewings. The three of them frowned, but turned away and left.

The magical energy in the area faded, making Minox’s ears pop and joints crack.

“End of action, boys,” Mirrell told the patrolmen. “Everyone get back on your beats. All of us here, someone is probably stealing the stationhouse.” The patrolmen lowered their weapons and dispersed.

Inspector Rainey sat on the steps, next to the dead body. “Is every day like this?”

“Nah.” Kellman crossed over to them, Mirrell walking with him. “Some days are bad.”

Rainey laughed dryly. “This is going to fall apart, isn’t it?”

“Are we going to get another Circle Feud, Jinx?” Mirrell asked.

Minox had the distinct sense that Mirrell thought he ought to have a better idea about what the mages of Light and Stone and Firewings would do than anyone else. Minox had to admit he probably did, but not for the reasons Mirrell was implying—he had no more insight
into the Mage Circles than he did any other person, though his insight in all matters certainly surpassed Mirrell’s and Kellman’s.

Even so, his ignorance was damaging the case.

“If we don’t resolve the murders of the Tomars, and soon, I believe the tensions will reach an explosive level. They almost did right now.”

“Hmph,” Mirrell said. “You two going to wait for the wagon, go back to the station with the body?”

Rainey smirked at Mirrell. “Are you asking if we’re fine with you two going about your business? Feel free.”

Kellman pointed over to the teashop. “Should we let them all go? We’ve got a few statements and such, but . . .”

“They reported a sudden burst of smoke, and when it cleared, her body was there,” Minox stated and Mirrell nodded.

“That’s right. They said the mages did it. You have to admit, it looks like the Light and Stone folks did this.”

“Indeed it does, which is why it clearly isn’t the case.”

“How do you figure?” Kellman asked. He actually looked genuinely interested in the answer, rather than his usual dismissive expression.

“The smoke served as a useful cover for dropping the body off the roof. And the crowd would presume it to be magical.”

“It’s not?” Mirrell asked.

“Smoke powder, encased in honey-glass. Thrown from the roof, it would leave little trace save the honey powder.” He pointed to the dusting of powder on the steps.

Mirrell nodded. “Which any corner chemist would sell for ten crowns.”

Kellman smirked. “And forget who they sold it to for another ten. So the killer just wanted it to look like it was the mages?”

“Most likely a secondary goal, but one that suited his needs.”

“The folks in the teashop are all fuming,” Mirrell said. “What do we do with them?”

“Let them go,” Rainey said. “Let’s not disrupt anyone’s day any further.”

Mirrell and Kellman nodded and went back to the teashop.

Minox felt drained. He needed to get off his feet, and sat down on the stoop next to Inspector Rainey. He had never before noticed how the ebb and flow of magical energy around him would affect him. It would be a fascinating thing to study if it didn’t make him weak and dizzy.

“You need to eat something?” Rainey asked him.

“Soon,” he answered. “I can wait until we’ve got Missus Tomar on the wagon.”

“This all got very hot out here, hmm?” She shook her head. “I should have known it would.”

“I fear I’m culpable for some of that,” Minox said. Rainey only looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Clearly he needed to explain further. “Inspector, I think my presence here today . . . specifically with me being an Uncircled Mage, caused a further escalation of conflict that could have otherwise been avoided.”

“Really, Minox?” she asked.

He bristled at her use of his given name. There was a certain unprofessionalism, he felt, at early adoption of casual address. When Nyla started on the inspectors’ floor, she had also quickly taken up the habit of using given names, with everyone save the captain. Minox briefly considered if it was a female trait, or if it was an ingrained habit of Rainey’s from a lifetime of not serving on Constabulary or a similar force. Druth Intelligence might well not have standard protocols for rank and address.

He had been lost in thought, and she had continued. “Those Firewings were going to march in here and cause chaos. The Light and Stone were going to respond. I doubt they were, as you say, ‘further escalated’ by your presence.” She sighed and got on her feet. “If anyone messed up here today, it’s me.”

“I thoroughly disagree, Inspector Rainey. You took decisive action and put yourself in a position to potentially catch our killer.”

“He got away.”

She was dwelling on her errors. They both were. Not something that would aid in effectively solving this case. Steps needed to be taken to regain focus.

“Immaterial. Certainly, his capture would have been a preferable outcome, but as the bruises sported by me and Inspector Mirrell can testify, our adversary is not lacking in cunning or skill. Failure to subdue him hardly constitutes failure as an inspector.”

Rainey looked wistfully out across the street. “Do you think Mirrell or Kellman noticed I had lost my weapon?”

“Certainly not Kellman,” Minox said. “The man is largely incapable of keeping his idle thoughts from coming out his mouth. Mirrell, in my estimation, would have made it an issue immediately as well.”

Rainey chuckled dryly. “And what will the captain say?”

“He will say something along the lines of ‘Blast it, Welling, you’re getting sloppy.’”

Rainey turned to him. “Why would he say it to you?”

Minox drew out his crossbow and passed it to her, handle first. “Because I’m the one who will be missing his weapon.”

Rainey stared at the crossbow, her hand held away as if she were afraid to take it. “Why?”

“Because I’m gathering that you are operating on some form of probationary basis, and the captain might use a minor cause to dismiss you. As you have been the only partner I’ve found to be of tolerable intelligence and capacity, the idea of your dismissal over a minor infraction is abhorrent.”

Inspector Rainey laughed and took the crossbow. “You have the most fascinating manner of speaking, you know that?”

Minox did not know how to respond to that, and was saved from the necessity of providing one by the arrival of Leppin and his wagon.

“You’ve all had a blazes of a morning, haven’t you?” Leppin asked as he hopped down to the street. He squinted up at Rainey. “How’s the second day treating you, Missus Inspector?”

“Full of excitement. Yours?”

Leppin shrugged and pointed at Jaelia Tomar. “I always got something to keep me busy. What’s the story?”

“Same as yesterday’s,” Minox said. “Dead mage, Firewing, heart cut out.”

Leppin crouched down next to the body, lifting up the coat. “Bird this time?” He whistled out low. “Same type of spikes through the hands, I see. Same effect on you, Welling?”

Minox had presumed that the spikes had been the same, but hadn’t bothered to check. He bent down and gave the spike a glancing touch. The same draining, sinking sensation filled him, and he instinctively stepped away from the body. “The same,” he coughed out. That had been a foolish test, given his state.

Leppin moved in closer, changing the lenses on his eyepiece. “Our friend seems to have an unlimited supply of these things.”

“At least he’s not worried about losing them when he hits his victims,” Inspector Rainey offered.

Ideas clicked in Minox’s head. “Valuable objects, of rare material and origin. He must have a limited supply of the spikes.”

Rainey locked eyes with him, nodding with understanding. “Which means he’s using them exactly how he is intending to, in a very specific way.”

“It also implies the killer has a very specific plan, and to that end, it’s highly likely he has a final goal to his actions.”

“A pattern,” Rainey said. “Leading us to understand what the killer is trying to accomplish.”

“Or say,” Minox suggested. He walked around the body. “He didn’t shoot you when he could.”

“No.”

“You saw him?” Leppin asked.

“He got away.” Rainey notably did not make eye contact with Leppin.

Minox didn’t let the details of his partner’s body language distract him from his train of thought. “And he notably did not use deadly force when he struck the carriage last night absconding with our new victim.”

Rainey’s eyes went wide, and the slightest of smiles played across her lips. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to kill anyone who isn’t part of his plan.”

“He might even consider it immoral—in his own way—to murder outside of his plan. But what is it?” Minox said, half to himself. “Blast, it’s nigh impossible to find a pattern with only two points of information.”

“You want a third murder?” Rainey said.

“No, no,” Minox said. “Leppin, collect the body, bring it to your examinarium, and get me every piece of information you can find.”

“What are we doing next?” Rainey asked.

Leppin glanced over at him. “You’re going to go sit down somewhere and eat something, that’s what. You look like a half-dead man.”

Rainey nodded. “You were up all night.”

“What?” Leppin snapped. “Blazes, Minox. You’re on the verge of collapse, you can’t just push yourself on pure willpower. Bodies don’t work that way!”

“I’m fine, Leppin.”

Leppin pointed a sharp finger at Rainey. “I’m sure you don’t want to be anyone’s mother here, Rainey, but someone has to make him take care of himself.”

“And that’s my job?” Rainey asked.

“Did he tell you he collapsed twice last night? Magical Depletion Fatigue.”

“Leppin!” Minox said. He did not need to disclose personal matters to Inspector Rainey.

“I told him to go home and get some rest, but he ignored me!”

“I don’t need—” Minox started. But he knew Leppin was right—his strength was about to give way. If he let himself fall over here and now, in front of Leppin, it was very possible the examiner would report to the captain and keep him from working for several days. Minox couldn’t allow that. “I just need to eat something, and then get back to the stationhouse.”

“Other way around,” Leppin said. He went to the wagon and pulled out a litter. “Sit in the blasted wagon
and I’ll take you back over myself. You go get him some food and meet us there.”

That was the wrong thing to say to Rainey. “You want your pants pressed while I’m at it, little man?”

“No,” Leppin said. “Help me get the body in the wagon, though.”

Minox saw no value in fighting either of them right now. His legs were about to give out. He went over to the wagon and sat in the front seat. Leppin and Rainey continued to snipe at each other as they loaded Jaelia Tomar into the wagon. Minox didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up in the stationhouse’s wagon hold.

Inspector Rainey was sitting a few feet away, watching him intently. When she saw that he had roused, she picked something up and crossed over.

“I got you three fast wraps,” Rainey said, holding out the newsprint-wrapped food to him. “I still don’t know what the meat is supposed to be, but if you can eat it, I won’t judge too much.”

Minox grabbed one out of her hands. “It really doesn’t matter.” He tore the newsprint open and took several bites, giving no regard to any sort of decorum. He ate it so quickly he barely tasted it.

“I really have to disagree,” she said. She gave a light smile, so Minox figured his savage eating had not disconcerted her. “The smell alone makes me nauseous. But if you like it.”

“Times like this,” Minox said, after finishing the first one, “liking what I’m eating has very little to do with it.”

“How do you feel?”

“Functional.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about the spikes. We need to figure out what they are, and where they came from.”

Minox tucked in to the second wrap, able to eat in a more civilized fashion now. The spikes were a unique element to this case, but he would prefer not to have to pursue that avenue of investigation. “I am concerned that they may prove too obscure to yield fruitful information.”