Dead Letter (10 page)

“
Then I will ask again, not to pester you, but to prove I am
genuine in my offer of help. Who did this to you? So I can keep my
eyes out. If I am going to stay here, I don’t want to put myself in
danger. I should know who to stay clear of.”

“
I honestly don’t know who made the mess in the shop. I have
debts to pay, debts in many quarters. Thugs come in many shapes and
sizes. Could have been Aunty’s thugs or even slumpers for all I
know. Those addicts are getting out of control.”

“
Doesn’t the law protect citizens like you? Take it to the
Guard.”

“
The law is the problem,” corrected the Alchemist. “I don’t
know which guards to pay off to keep matters … civilised. I was
getting on top of my accounts. Everyone would have had their shine.
But things fell through and toes were stepped on and—”

When
Mertin faltered, Kettna put a comforting arm around him. “Speak no
more of it. I can’t stay now, but I’ll come to check on you this
evening. Your guild is here to help you through it.”

“
I welcome your assistance and am grateful to the Order for
the opportunity to pay through alternative means.”

“
I shall take my leave, Master.”

“
Go well. I’ll set to work tidying up the place and I look
forward to your return.”

CHAPTER SIX

Inspector Kettna

Kettna walked
beside Lanuille up High Street on the way to Founder’s Fortress.
“You’re practised at illusions, Lanuille. What can you tell me of
the twins? Do you see them without fault as I do?”

“
I see them for what they are; metaphysically apparent yet
physically absent. I confess, I cannot deny them from my mind for
long. And I have no idea how they were fashioned.”

The
twins lacked particulars, like any other illusion. Their essence
was notably incomplete to a discerning viewer like Adept Lanuille,
who knew where to probe in her own mind. The world can only be
explored from one’s own point of view. It had to be believed to be
seen, not seen to be believed.

“
I imagine Mother had a hand in their creation. So don’t be
too hard on yourself,” consoled Kettna. “I can’t shake her presence
from my mind either.”

A
lonesome, tainted laugh fell from Lanuille. “Mothers have that
effect on their daughters, don’t they?”

“
Tell me about your mother. You know all about
mine.”

Lanuille
waved the question away. “Let us master an understanding of this
enchantment before we dig up the roots of my family tree. You are
the owl, Kettna. Knowledge should be our guiding hand in this
regard, so tell me what you see that I might learn
also.”

They
stopped and observed the twins for a moment. “Their form is
consistent, their image clear,” said Kettna. “That shows the
caster’s focus was both sharp and strong. There is a complexity to
their actions, which has evidence of a guiding hand. Yet the
illusions’ creator could not be manipulating their interactions and
choices. How do they socialise so well?”

“
I believe the element keeping these fellows in such harmony
with your interactions is you, Novice.”

“
Me? How so? I’m not casting on them. I’m not the originator
of the spell, nor the conduit for their continued presence. If I
were powering them with my own mana, I’d feel the drain. And, in
all honesty, they would not be so strong.”

“
An illusion cannot think for itself. It is a projection of
the viewer’s own mind, moulded by the suggestion of the caster. I’m
not the caster, nor are you, and yet…” Lanuille walked a turn
around the twins, admiring every detail. “The level of this
illusion is beyond my abilities, for not only has the caster
manipulated your mind to perceive the illusion, the feedback from
the illusion to you is then projected on me and all other viewers.
I’d say your mother has been quite busy constructing this for you.
The complexity and layering of spells involved is a masterwork in
itself. Not only that, she must understand you well.”

“
There must be limitations,” Kettna was not going to let her
mother seem infallible. She was good, but not that good.

“
They couldn’t fool an entire city at once, but they’d never
need to.”

“
A multitude of observers each requiring a suggestion would be
limited by the power source,” said Kettna. “It would also constrict
the radius of effect, but who could say unless we examine all the
possible sources of power. It would take me days to test the
edicts. They are the obvious sources, and if it’s not them, it
could be anything on my person.”

“
We will live well with what we already know. You are the
viewer and the projector, while the source of power must be the
same as that which holds the enchantment. The twins do what you
suggest. Although your mother stitched the dolls, you are playing
the game. Your mind controls the enchantment. At breakfast, they
ate while you ate.”

“
They took tea when I took tea,” remembered Kettna.

“
Yes. And if you feel threatened, they shall act in your
defence. They are a social mimic. It’s pure woven genius; the
Archmagus must publish her method. I would make time to read
that.”

“
Something like
Charmed, I’m Sure: A
Guidebook for the Enchanted Daughter
.
While this would be advantageous in certain circumstances, I can’t
have illusions of men traipsing around after me all the time. I
must be able to dispel them temporarily.”

“
Now is as good a time as any other. Give it a
try.”

With as
tight a focus as Kettna could manage in the noisy street, she
willed them to disappear. Nothing happened. The twins persisted
with the same illusive rigour as their unending conversation. She
tried in every way she knew how, all to no avail.

“
Perhaps I should dispel the magic on you,” offered
Lanuille.

“
No. That might ruin the enchantment all together.” It was a
frustration she didn’t need right now. How would the Constable see
her if she presented herself with an entourage of nannies to keep
her safe? “I wish they’d just take a walk!”

And they
did so, turning down the street for a leisurely stroll.

Lanuille
clapped her approval. “We were looking for something complex when
the remedy was simple. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so rude to your
protectors.”

“
Do come back, guildermen!” called Kettna. The twins returned
and considered the novice. She was their master and yet she didn’t
know their names. It was a cruelty to have their support without
the regard held by a name. She thought of the kitchen hand. What a
life to be without a guild name, a fraternity of support. However,
the twins were an illusion; they had no feelings or prospects. In
any case, if simply addressing the illusions as if they were real
provided a mode of control, that was all she needed. “We are almost
at the gatehouse, guildermen. Remain out of sight down that side
street and we’ll see you again when we return to this
spot.”

The
twins nodded in understanding and cheerfully walked down the alley,
disappearing around a corner. This would be a good test of her
ability to manage their presence, or more precisely, their
absence.

High
Street stopped before the ancient stone gatehouse of Founder’s
Fortress, which protected Calimska’s inner sanctum of political and
military power, the Grand Hall and Castle Roost. The blood of mages
mixed with the sweat of masons, fusing magic and mortar in an
impenetrable puzzle of stonework. Calimska’s defence was founded on
shared burden. Every guild handed down edicts, volunteering select
members to serve the public good as city guards. Kettna had never
imagined she would be one of them.

At the
gatehouse a guard stopped them. A rack of spikes, some unfortunate
creature’s last defence, protruded from his helm. Members of the
Warrior Guild garnered prestige by the trophies they carried and
often volunteered to the Guard between the glorious battles they
sought elsewhere as mercenaries and adventurers. The Warrior Guild
had a strong ethic of service to the defence of Calimska, which
improved the martial skill of recruits and honoured the Warrior
Guild for their patriotism. Better hey be known for loyal martial
service than for squandering spoils on whores and liquor between
debt collection and street fights. With a helm display like this,
the guardsman was keen to show off his high rank to the other
volunteers.

“
What is your reason for entry?” he asked with authority,
halberd at the ready.

“
I’m here to meet with the Constable,” answered Kettna. “Rest
easy with that thing. We are no threat.”

The
guard looked the two sorceresses over and snorted a gob of mucous,
fit to clog a chimney. He spat it without remorse and chuckled.
“He’s a busy man, and your sort talk too much.”

The
novice imagined returning to the Order and presenting an excuse
that the Constable was a busy man and thus could not accommodate
her long sentences. It was a fleeting whimsy, reconsidered with a
more succinct reply. “I’m a busy woman,” replied Kettna. “I have
documents.”

“
Let’s see them then.” The guard considered Kettna with a
flick of his eyes. She wondered if he actually read well enough to
understand the verbose edict. He’d understand the seal well enough.
Surely the warrior would know who the Archmagus was. “And what
about you?” he asked of Lanuille.

The
adept produced her own documents and scolded the guard with a
glare.

Kettna
sympathised. Was it not obvious who they represented? How could the
Order of Calim be treated with such low regard? If it weren’t for
Calim, the very fortress this pea-brained warrior defended so
repugnantly would not have stood the test of time.

“
Everything looks in order,” said the guard, returning the
documents to the mages without so much as an apology. “Page!” he
shouted, startling Kettna.

A boy
ran over from behind the gate. “Yes, Captain?”

“
Show these citizens to the Constable’s Quarters.”

“
Yes, Captain.” The boy waved them on and jogged ahead,
stopping for a moment to allow them to catch up. He shuffled his
feet and urged them on, keen to return to his post.

“
You go on ahead,” said Lanuille. “I think you are suitably
out of danger with all these guards around. That’s the Constable’s
building over there. Find me when you’re done.”

The
Constable kept a squat building wedged between the Grand Hall and
the Barracks. It was the logical place, as laws enacted by the High
Council were enforced by the Guard and the Guard reported the state
of the city to enlighten the leadership. The Constable was the
turnstile of Calimskan Law and the city’s most respected warrior,
having defended the city from monsters and men alongside the heroes
of old.

The
building was a bridge between the political power and the military
power of the city, just as the role of the Constable served in the
same way.

The page
pointed to the closed door of the Constable’s office and ran back
to his post, oiling a rack of pikes in the shade of the wall beside
the gatehouse. Kettna sucked in a breath and knocked, though her
rap sounded as empty as her desire to enter the seat of Calimskan
law. There was no response and the novice was about to knock again
until she noticed the bell beside the door. Kettna gave the bell a
good ring and instantly regretted it.

Guards
came running from all directions and lined up in tight ranks in the
courtyard before the Constable’s door. Each man and woman assembled
a parade of surcoats emblazoned with the golden sun staring over
the mountain range at Kettna, her hand still clutching the bell
string. She let it go, realising her mistake too late. The door
swung open and the Constable emerged like a beast disturbed. He was
an imposing man, silvered with wisdom and broad as a boar. His
bushy white moustache curled like tusks and steel grey eyes
interrogated her awkward presence on his balcony.

"What by
Calim’s conscience is going on?" His determined jaw tightened.
"Dear woman, of all the things a mage could do, why would you ring
the assembly bell?"

“
I thought it was your door bell.”

“
Why in the five hells would I have a doorbell, when Coraki
gifted us fists for banging.”

“
Of course, Constable. It turns out my fist was quite
ineffective at opening the door.”

“
Who are you then? Announce yourself.”

Kettna
sank with embarrassment, slowly pulled under by a rip of
condescending stares from a platoon of guards at attention.
“Perhaps we should dismiss the guards. I don’t want them to bother
with my mistake.”

“
Nonsense. We shall discuss your need of my time and I shall
dismiss them when I am good and damn well ready.”

It was
time to summon some of her mother’s political courage. The Novice
would be working with these guards and would need their
cooperation. She would not be the butt of every joke. Kettna
straightened her shoulders and raised her voice. “I’m Novice
Kettna. I come here by edict of the Archmagus to represent the
Order of Calim, and assist our great city of Calimska.”