Ariadne nodded and followed her niece to the stairs. She found herself impressed. Caina had taken charge of the situation with ease, and all the questions she had asked had been relevant.
“His name isn’t really Markaine, is it?” said Ariadne as they started up the stairs.
“No,” said Caina. “But he’s had it for so long that it doesn’t really matter. Right now, I’m hoping he doesn’t find the servants slaughtered in the kitchen or in their beds.”
“You don’t think he will, though,” said Ariadne.
“I don’t,” said Caina. “I think Septimus sent all his servants away for the night. I think he wanted them sent away because he intended to meet with someone in secret. And I think that if we looked into the other four suicides, we’d find that they sent their servants away or went someplace alone.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Ariadne. “I wish I had thought of that. I don’t know if Valron did or not.”
“We can ask him when he comes back,” said Caina.
The stairs climbed higher, the stairwell illuminated by glass spheres set in the wall every so often. Ariadne smelled Septimus Aureon’s study before she saw the door. She had encountered the smell of blood so many times in her life she knew it at once.
“You’re ready for this?” said Caina, glancing at her.
Ariadne started to snap an answer, but she nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve seen dead bodies before.”
She remembered the spilled wine near her first husband’s dead hand.
“Well,” said Caina. “Let’s see what can be learned.”
They walked up the final steps and stopped in the door to Aureon’s study.
It looked a great deal like the other inner sanctums of the high magi that Ariadne had visited over the years. Tall, narrow windows looked over the grounds and the street, though in this part of Artifel, all she could see through the windows were the other towers of the magi and the domes of the Motherhouse. A desk was on the far side of the room, orderly and neat, with papers and several opened books. Lofty bookshelves contained works on sorcery and the history of the Empire, and a pair of long worktables held metal-working tools and a variety of weapons, armor, and jewelry. Aureon’s particular interest, Ariadne recalled, had been enspelling and metallurgy, and he had been skilled with enspelling weapons. Likely that was why his daughter had followed his footsteps and now worked in the city’s foundries.
Septimus Aureon himself hung from one of the ceiling rafters.
Ariadne had seen men hanged to death, and she knew why executioners put hoods upon their victims before they died. It was not a pleasant death, not at all. Aureon had been a stocky, ruddy-faced man, like a fitter version of Decius Aberon, and the rope had turned his face a livid purple. His eyes bulged, and his tongue hung over his teeth. Death by hanging had also caused his manhood to stiffen to the point where it strained against his black robe, and it added further indignity to the ghastly sight.
“Gods, the poor man,” murmured Ariadne. “And the poor girl, to find her father like this.”
“Aye,” said Caina. “And there’s the word.”
She pointed at a blank portion of the stone wall, and the word CLEAN had been painted there in blood. It had only just crusted. Aureon had not been dead for all that long.
“He did it himself,” said Ariadne. “I can see the blood on his right hand.”
“Aye,” said Caina again. “Don’t move. I want to have a look at everything before we disturb the room. Give me a minute to think.”
She dropped to a squat, her blue eyes keen and intense as they darted back and forth.
Ariadne remained standing, but she did the same, her eyes scanning the room and noting details. About a minute later, Caina straightened up with a grunt.
“It seems clear what happened,” said Caina. “He cut his right hand with that dagger – the one there, under the table, and then used his left hand to paint that word on the wall. Then he climbed up onto the table and tied the rope over the rafters.”
“Yes, you’re right,” said Ariadne. “I can see the blood droplets on the papers. He was bleeding when he was standing on the table.”
“Then he stepped onto that chair,” Caina pointed at a tipped-over wooden chair beneath Aureon’s dangling boots, “kicked it over, and killed himself. He didn’t struggle or change his mind. There’s blood on his collar from when he tied the noose around his neck, but no damage to his fingernails. If he had changed his mind, he would have ripped at the noose, tried to get himself loose.” She sighed and ran a hand through her blond hair. “By the Divine, I wish there was carpet in here. Easier to find some tracks.”
“We won’t find any,” said Ariadne, squinting at the black stone floor. “You would need a sledgehammer to make a scratch in this spell-worked stone.”
“Or a spell,” said Caina. “Let’s have a look around.”
They walked into the room and examined the items on the tables. Nothing stood out to Ariadne’s eye. The tables held metalworking tools and diagrams of weapons, armor, and the spells for augmenting them. Caina walked to the desk and looked over the papers.
“Well,” she said, dropping to a crouch. “Look at this. This drawer is slightly ajar.”
She slid it open all the way, and within Ariadne saw a strongbox. The lid was unlocked, and Caina opened it. Inside were several papers that Ariadne recognized as legal documents. Probably the deeds for the tower and the land upon which it was built.
“There’s an empty spot here,” said Caina, tapping the back of the strongbox. “He pulled something out of it…yes. The key is here.” She waved a hand at the desk, and then looked back at the strongbox. “It’s about the right size for a pouch of coins or maybe gems. I think he unlocked the drawer and got the pouch out before meeting whoever induced him to kill himself.”
“A bribe?” said Ariadne, puzzling over the possibilities.
“Or maybe a payment,” said Caina. “Maybe whoever’s been inducing these suicides has been trying to sell something.”
Ariadne snorted. “Hard to sell things to dead men.”
“That’s very true,” said Caina. She straightened up and began looking through the letters on the desk. “Maybe Aureon’s guest has been trying to sell something to the high magi. And if they don’t meet the right price, he kills them to cover his tracks.”
Ariadne frowned as she followed that chain of thought to its conclusion. “Perhaps some of the high magi have paid a suitable price and are still alive.”
“Yes,” said Caina. “Or maybe…what’s this?”
She lifted a small book and flipped it open, showing a list of names and dates.
“I recognize that book,” said Ariadne. “It’s a registry of initiates. Every year, the Magisterium records a registry of new initiates…”
“Wait.” Caina pointed at a line showing the name of Septimus Aureon. “This is from your year, isn’t it?” She paged forward, and Ariadne saw her own name and the date of her enrollment as an initiate.
“It is,” said Ariadne.
“Is this something a high magus would normally have?” said Caina, frowning as she paged through the book.
“No,” said Ariadne. “The Librarian of the Magisterium is responsible for storing these records, though any high magus can request to have a copy made. Usually on the newfangled printing presses that have sprung up over the last few years, though some of the more old-fashioned magi prefer to have a scribe hand-write the book…”
Caina lifted the spine of the book to her nose and sniffed. “This is a new book. The glue on the spine is still fresh. He must have had it printed just within the last month.” She started flipping through the pages faster.
“What are you looking for?” said Ariadne.
“If Aureon made any notes in this book,” said Caina. “If he…ah. Does this name mean anything to you?”
Ariadne peered at the page. Aureon had circled a name a third of the way through the book. It was the name of Rion
a Canwyll, and according to the register, she had been born in the province of Caeria Ulterior. A magus visiting the town of Calvarium had noticed Canwyll’s ability, and she had been brought to Artifel and enrolled as an initiate in the Magisterium.
“Oh, hell,” said Ariadne.
“You know this initiate?” said Caina. “Riona Canwyll? Is she another of the high magi now?”
“She’s not a high magus,” said Ariadne. “She never even became a magus. I thought she died years ago.”
“What happened?” said Caina.
Ariadne frowned, casting her thoughts back to her early training in the Magisterium. “An initiate’s period of study usually lasts seven years. If an initiate can get past the fourth year, he or she will almost certainly finish and become a full magus of the Magisterium. The fourth year is when the troublemakers or the incompetents get expelled, with a warning to never use sorcery again.”
Caina nodded. “That was when Laeria was expelled.”
“She simply wasn’t strong enough to become a full magus,” said Ariadne. “Father only let her attempt the training because she insisted, and he always let Laeria have whatever she wanted.”
“Was that why Riona Canwyll was expelled?” said Caina. “She wasn’t strong enough to become a full magus.”
“No,” said Ariadne. “No, she was stronger than me. I think she was one of the strongest initiates of our year. She was expelled because she had started studying high necromancy…”
“Ancient Maatish necromancy,” said Caina, her voice grim. Evidently, she had encountered it before.
“Yes,” said Ariadne. “She broke into the Secret Library, where all the forbidden books are kept and started studying the necromantic works there. Canwyll began raising undead creatures. The high magi found out and expelled her from the Magisterium.”
“Did they execute her?” said Caina.
“I don’t actually know,” said Ariadne. “I would assume so. In the Magisterium, the penalty for necromancy is death. At least, it is supposed to be. Most of the Umbarian Order was practicing necromancy for centuries under the noses of the high magi. All I know is that the high magi announced that Canwyll had been expelled from the Magisterium, and given the nature of her crimes, I assume she was executed. But I didn’t pay any attention at the time. I was wrapped up with my studies…and how much I hated my father and some of my sisters if I’m honest.”
“What is the ‘Black Mirror?’” said Caina.
She pointed at the page. Next to Canwyll’s name, someone had written the words ‘Black Mirror.’
“That’s Aureon’s handwriting, I assume,” said Caina. “It matches the letters.”
“Black Mirror,” said Ariadne. “I know of a place called the Black Mirror. It’s a tavern and a brothel in the inner city, not far from the Motherhouse.”
“A brothel?” said Caina, crinkling her nose with disgust.
“Aye,” said Ariadne. “The most expensive and exclusive brothel in the city of Artifel. Very discreet.” She shook her head. “They accept only the most beautiful prostitutes, and ones willing to submit to spells to improve their physical appearance. Men and women both.” She frowned. “I thought the Ghosts would be more comfortable with brothels.”
“The Ghosts have many agents in brothels,” said Caina. “I’m not breaking any confidences by telling you that since you know it already. There are many secrets to be learned there. And I recognize the value of brothels in keeping public order. If it’s not taxed and licensed and put in one place, it will be all over the city. But…no, the very idea makes my skin crawl.”
“I don’t like them at all,” said Ariadne. “I think they are loathsome places.”
The memory of the wine pooling near her husband’s dead hand flashed through her mind again, and she pushed it aside.
“Well,” said Caina, closing the book, “loathsome or not, I think the Black Mirror needs to be our next stop.”
“Agreed,” said Ariadne. She hesitated. “Perhaps we should send Sophia back to my house. She’s a little young to be exposed to such things.”
“Sophia has seen more of the darker side of life than I would wish,” said Caina, “but you’re right. I’ll send Markaine back with her as well. I wouldn’t put it past Decius to try and kidnap her to prove his precious authority.”
“Would Markaine be able to stop a magus?” said Ariadne.
Caina smiled. “Surely you’ve realized by now that he’s not just a painter.”
“Indeed,” said Ariadne. “We’ll have to tell Tempora something. Else she’s liable to follow us to the Black Mirror.”
“Agreed,” said Caina. “We…”
The distant cry rang up the stairs.
Sophia was so soft-spoken that Ariadne had not realized the girl could shout so loudly.
“My lady!” said Sophia. “My lady, you must come at once!”
Chapter 10: Elementary
Caina raced for the stairs, summoning her valikon with her left hand and yanking a throwing knife from her baldric with her right. The knives were not as well-forged as the ones Nerina Strake had made for her, but they were balanced well, and they were sharp enough. The familiar weight in her hand felt reassuring.
Sophia kept shouting, and Caina’s mind raced. The girl didn’t sound alarmed. She sounded startled, maybe concerned, but not alarmed. If she was in danger, Morgant would be with her.
Part of her mind noted that Ariadne was keeping up with her, that Caina’s skin was tingling from the amount of sorcerous power her aunt had drawn in. Some magi neglected their bodies in favor of their studies and arcane skills (Decius Aberon came to mind), but that was clearly not true in Ariadne’s case.
Caina raced down the stairs and came to the dining hall.
The first thing she saw was Morgant. He stood next to the table, an amused look on his face. That was good. He looked amused in a fight from time to time, but not without his weapons, and his scimitar and dagger were in their scabbards. Tempora Aureon stood next to him, and she did look alarmed, and she glowed with sorcerous power. Sophia came into Caina’s field of vision, and she only seemed startled, not frightened.
Caina ran into the dining hall, and a familiar sorcerous aura appeared before her eyes.
It looked like the familiar aura of the pyrikon bracelet she wore around her left wrist, but older, much older, and somehow worn with age. The aura surrounded a towering woman who wore a misshapen brown dress and a heavy cloak with the cowl pulled up. The cowl cast her face into shadow, but Caina saw the deep lines marking the leathery skin, the teeth that looked as if they had been fashioned from bronze. In her right hand, the ancient woman held a bronze staff in a bony hand.
“Just who the devil are you?” said Tempora, the arcane power she held sharpening.
“She’s called the Bronze Witch,” called Caina, striding to join them, knife and valikon ready. Ariadne followed, sorcerous power focusing around her staff. She looked more curious than anything else. That was just as well. To judge from the strength of the aura around her, Ariadne was a sorceress of considerable power, and could probably have killed the Bronze Witch with a single spell.
Caina suspected Ariadne was much stronger than the Bronze Witch, at least judging by the level of power the Witch had displayed so far.
“Who the hell is that?” said Tempora.
“The legendary guardian of Ulkaar against the Temnoti,” said Caina. “She’s been giving me advice from time to time. It’s usually good.”
“Usually,” said Morgant, grinning. “Though the Bronze Witch is supposed to be the guardian of Ulkaar. But we’re not in Ulkaar, are we? I wonder how the Witch traveled to Artifel, what with the Inner Sea in the way and all.”
The Witch’s cowl turned towards Morgant, and while Caina wasn’t sure, she thought the withered face looked exasperated. But something else interesting happened. When the Witch looked at Morgant, the angle of her face turned towards one of the spheres of light on the wall, and the light sh
one into her cowl. The light only did a little to dispel the shadows within her hood, proving they were sorcerous in nature, but they did illuminate enough to reveal that the Witch was wearing a great deal of stage makeup. Her aged appearance was entirely an illusion.
Some idea started to scratch in Caina’s mind, as if she was on the verge of some profound realization.
“Balarigar,” said the Witch, her voice a thick rasp.
“So they call me,” said Caina. She desperately hoped that the Witch would not mention the Sword of Rasarion Yagar in front of Ariadne and Tempora. Ariadne might figure out on her own that Caina carried the Sword, but Caina suspected her aunt would be wise enough not to mention that fact to the high magi. She had no such confidence about Tempora.
“Be wary,” said the Witch. “Your enemies know that you are here, Balarigar, and they come for you. Be on your guard, for they lurk in the shadows, and will wield both spell and steel against you.”
“The Temnoti?” said Caina. She had never heard of the Temnoti before she had been taken to Ulkaar, but the Umbarians had hidden in Artifel for centuries. Why not the Temnoti? And if there were Temnoti cultists in Artifel, they might think to curry favor with their masters by killing Caina and seizing the Sword.
“No,” said the Witch. “Elements within the Magisterium. They come for you this night. Make ready to defend yourselves!”
Before Caina could respond, the Bronze Witch struck the end of her staff against the ground. There was a flash of white light, and the Witch vanished.
“What the hell?” said Tempora. Now she sounded bewildered. The poor woman had endured an awful night. “Did she turn invisible?”
“A Silent Hunter?” said Ariadne, casting a spell. “No…there are no illusionary spells nearby.”
“It’s not an illusion,” said Caina. “She transported herself away. I think that staff of hers is an Iramisian pyrikon, and she can use it to travel large distances in the blink of an eye.”
“Is that even possible?” said Ariadne. “The only method I have ever heard of traveling through sorcery is by traversing the netherworld, and that is insanely dangerous. The loremasters might have possessed the secret of traveling vast differences swiftly, but that could be a myth.” She shook her head. “That woman couldn’t have possibly been the Bronze Witch. That’s a story of the Ulkaari, like…”
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