Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) (15 page)

“My brow sets ill-at-ease, yes. The stable master tells me that the Head of Parliament…needs a fast horse. Albess, have you taken up riding on the sly?”

“Riding? One scoffs at the idea of an old hen clinging to the back of a saddle!” Thea snapped her beak in the air with a
clack
. “One needs a horse for she-from-another-world. To travel to the Fayleene woods this very night.”

Duke Kajari stared at her for a moment. “Preposterous!”

“One cannot help but agree, Lord Regent. But for the fact that all now live in ‘preposterous’ times. The measures taken must match the need.”

“Since I am formally attached to Dayna’s investigation, I have also prepared to travel whence forth,” Galen added.

Kajari started to object, but seemed to think better of it. He nodded, resignedly, and then said, “Very well. I shall have your mount brought here as soon as possible.” He inclined his head towards me with a little bow. “Travel safe. I look forward to your return. And the tale of your journey to find one of the fey folk.”

With his characteristic brusqueness, Kajari did not wait for my reply. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Thea watched him leave, her expression unreadable.

“One expected more argument,” the Albess said. She spread her wings, and then added, “It surprises, but one must echo his words. Travel fast, but safe.”

Thea took to the air unsteadily, but with a few wing beats she soared out of sight. The pair of abrupt departures startled me. I looked questioningly at Galen, but he was staring at the barely-eaten remnants of my dinner on its plate.

“Intriguing,” said Galen. “This looks and smells like mouse tart.”

“That’s what it is,” I said ruefully.

The centaur’s hooves clattered as he made a shudder. “Disgusting.”

We went outside, where the glow of the moon shone through the fleecy scud of gathering clouds. The same page boy I’d seen before, still decked out in robin’s egg blue, waited patiently outside the Parliament building. He held the reins of yet another white horse, one who nickered and looked askance at the low-slung frame of the griffin that paced nearby.

“Thou hast made the strange request of a second ride this night,” Shaw observed tiredly. “Yet thou art my liege in this endeavor, Dayna. I shall follow.”

“Nay, brave griffin.” Galen said firmly.

“Thou sayest nay, or neigh, centaur?”

“If Dayna accepts my counsel, thou should not follow us this night.” Galen said, lowering his voice. He threw me a meaningful glance. “I suspect treacherous thoughts here. Thoughts that a griffin might bring within earshot.”

“I trust your counsel,” I said, watching Galen carefully. “Shaw, if you would…I mean, if thou would-est—”

“Wouldst,” the centaur supplied.

“Thanks. If thou wouldst, might you take this task?”

“I shall, right away. If there be treachery here, mayhap I can root it out.” He turned and slunk off into the shadows. I took the reins of my horse from the page, who bowed and then followed the griffin. I looked at Galen and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I appreciate you doing that, Dayna,” he said. “I did hear grumblings among the assembled nobles at court. Behnaz and Vazura showed up to denounce you.”

“Great,” I said, “More good news.”

“You speak truly. But the reason I brought it up is the incontrovertible fact that our leonine companion is old, for a griffin.”

I fought to keep my face impassive. Galen’s words sounded much like what Vazura had said about Shaw. Too much.

“He seems okay to me, Galen.”

“You observed how out of breath he was upon arriving here,” Galen pointed out. “I know the way to the woods of the Fayleene. It is not far, but it is a more rugged road. Running hence and back will certainly deplete his strength, and may possibly hurt him.”

“I’d wondered about that on our trip back here from the Grove of the Willows. Couldn’t Shaw have kept up more easily by flying?”

“That strikes at the heart of the matter, Dayna. Griffins are not owls, despite being feathered kin. They cannot see well at night to begin with. Due to his age…”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Going in the dark is a bad idea, for him. Flying could be a deadly one.”

“That said, I will miss his company on the road. A griffin’s strength and courage is always welcome.”

“Me too. But at least I get to share the ride with my favorite wizard.” I clambered into the saddle, as awkwardly as ever, and then gripped the reins firmly in hand. “Let’s get going, these fairy types aren’t going to wait all night.”

“Halt!” a man’s gruff shout came from the darkness ahead.

“Now what?” I grumbled. A shadowy figure strode up before us. He held up a staff, which glowed menacingly with a blood-red light at the tip.

“Heed me, blasphemer! Heed my words, ere you perish,” the voice continued. “I see your future as plain as sun on the fields! Gruesome death awaits you the moment you step foot outside Benedict’s walls!”

The figure stepped into the courtyard as the moon came out from behind a cloud. The wan light threw his wizened face into sharp relief and shaded his age-spotted skin bleak shades of white and brown. It also turned his long-sleeved tunic a comical hue of bright indigo, as if he’d colored it with Crayola crayons.

I groaned. I recognized him from when I’d first arrived in Andeluvia.

“Master Seer Zenos,” Galen said. “Again with the predictions of catastrophe. Perchance, could there be someone else you could annoy tonight?”

“My business isn’t with you, horse-man,” Zenos sniffed. “This Dayna Chrissie woman, she disrespects the Guild of Soothsayers with her very presence!”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, Zenos, you don’t have to hide your feelings. If you want to join the Dayna Chrissie fan club, there’s still a lot of open seats.”

“Laugh while you can! I see death in your future!” Zenos threw his head back. His halo of white hair sort of fluffed out like a spill of talcum powder.

“I would worry about your pronouncements,” Galen said dryly, “if it weren’t the fact that you predict death in everyone’s future. Lord Illagan finally passed away of old age last week, forty years after you predicted his doom.”

“See? I tell you, centaur, I am never wrong. Never!”

“Right,” I said flatly. “I’ll take it under advisement, Master Seer.”

I gave my mount a nudge with my heels. The horse, perhaps sensing my need to get away from the escapee from the loony bin, moved off at a sharp trot. Galen followed at my side, and we left the palace gate behind in a cloud of dust.

Chapter Seventeen

Galen and I worked our way through the town blocks again. Though the streets were nearly empty, many of the houses were cheerily lit from inside. At regular intervals, Benedict’s realm had put out a kind of streetlamp. Tall braziers, similar to the kind at the Parliament building, held clumps of glowing stones in a globe of wire mesh. The light gave the cobblestones a luminous sheen, as if the street itself lay underwater.

As the town fell behind us, Galen indicated that we should take a fork off to the north. This time, the road turned to packed dirt more quickly. The fitful moonlight illuminated a series of rolling hills dotted with gnarled trees. The scent of pine filled my nose, though with a distinctly alien tinge of something like peppermint.

“I must tender apologies for our Master Seer,” Galen said. “His predictions can be unsettling, and worse, disrespectful.”

“I can’t blame him, I guess,” I replied. “My presence here is a sort of poke in the eye to a seer. Nobody likes a threat to their job.”

The wizard chuckled. “Indeed.”

“I am curious, though. Was he serious about never being wrong?”

“You were listening, perhaps, when I mentioned the case of Lord Illagan?”

“The one who died, forty years after the prediction of his demise.”

“Death did, finally, come for the man, so give Zenos that one. In my case, I strongly doubt his visions will come true.”

“Now I’m curious. Can you share?” Of course, the Dayna Chrissie of twenty-four hours ago didn’t believe in this stuff. But lately, in the company of magical people and creatures, I found myself a lot more willing to suspend disbelief.

“Zenos said that I would ascend to the throne of the Centaur Realm.”

“Really?” I stopped for a moment. “That’s…not good news, is it? You said that a centaur can only do that when he defeats the current King in combat.”

“Correct. But I have no desire for the throne. Despite our differences, I still wish no harm to my sire. And finally…I have no craving for death.” Galen sighed. “Zenos also said that I would only hold the throne for a few days.”

“Meaning that someone else will take it from you.”

We rode in silence for another few minutes. The last lights of the houses faded in the distance. The clouds fell away from the moon, but a dense, knee-high fog took its place.

The strange, gnarled trees grew more thickly here, making a proper forest. The peppermint smell grew in intensity, making my tongue tingle. My mind cast back to Thea’s words and phrases, prompting me to speak again.

“Galen, how well do you know the Albess, Thea?”

“Moderately. Conversing with her, or any owl…it is difficult. Like playing pick-up-sticks with forehoofs instead of fingers. It can be done, but it is tiresome after a while. They think in terms of the group, so they never use words like ‘I’.”

That wasn’t quite true, I realized with a start. Xandra certainly fit Galen’s description. Albess Thea, on the other hand…the way she spoke with me had been distinctly different. But then, she’d gone back to speaking ‘owlish’ when Galen and Kajari arrived unexpectedly. Why?

“I’d been wondering,” I said, “whether the Albess has any gift of prophecy, understanding of magic. She seemed adamant that we visit the Fayleene, to get their help.”

“I’ve never heard of the Albess scrying. The mere mention of such a thing would make Zenos foam at the mouth. I’ll venture that she’s acquired a deep understanding of the way magic works, though.”

“Could she, or anyone else in the palace, be able to cast spells?” Galen frowned as we cantered on, up and down along long, forested switchbacks. “Vazura said that the first sign of trouble in the grove was when his patrol’s magic detectors went off. They also heard the sounds of magic weapons, such as a staff that casts ‘fire bolts’. And I still think our suspect can cross between our worlds.”

“I truly doubt that anyone in Andeluvia with access to Benedict had the power to do these things,” Galen stated. His voice betrayed a slight irritation. “Greater acts of magic, like crossing between worlds, require years of training.”

“That may be. Of course, all that does is cast more suspicion on you, as the resident wizard.”

“You speak truly.” Galen held up a hand, and we slowed to a stop.

All around us, the trees hung as still and thick as the ground fog. Loops of something like Spanish moss hung from the low branches like sinister green garrotes. Galen cocked his head, listening intently. At the very bottom of the sound scale, I thought I heard a distant thudding or tremble through the ground.

“We draw nigh to the Fayleene woods,” Galen said, his voice just above a whisper. “The night sounds are strange, distant. I feel that they are here, but…”

“Should we call to them?”

Galen nodded. He cupped his hands to his mouth, and then shouted a phrase in a liquid, flowing tongue. “
Ai hóigh! Maor coille feighil, fia fionn!
”

Silence. Again, for a moment I thought I heard a distant sound. As if it came from a boiler, or a steam engine in mid-vent, somewhere a couple valleys over. I slowly dismounted. I absently massaged my thigh muscles. Galen’s magic or no, I’d started to get the prickles of pins and needles in my legs again.

The wizard repeated his call. He made a frustrated snort. “I spoke to them in their Old Tongue. Never before have they refused to reply—”

“We heard you, wizard. We heard your breath as you crested the first rise.”

A murmur of voices came from the mist around us. Fluid, musical voices, with the hint of an accent. It came across as vaguely Gaelic to my ear. And the Fayleene didn’t sound all that pleased with us.