The Spirit Siphon (Magebreakers Book 4)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Tinga had never been very good at that.

  Even now, knowing she had to blend in, she had a hard time looking away from the children. All of them were shackled in the same way as the adults. She’d been horrified enough by the arrangement already, and she hadn’t even considered that children with magic would have to be put somewhere too. And if their parents aren’t mages… Astra, they’re taken from their families to live their whole lives in this building and the workhouse.

  She didn’t fully realize she was staring until a brown-bearded dwarven man stopped to speak to her. He wore a shackle, like the rest of the mages. “Haven’t seen it before, have you?” he asked in Belgrian, and gestured at her bare wrists, where the lack of a bracelet marked her as a guest. “You must be visiting someone. Hard to see the young ones like this.”

  Deciphering the words was no problem, but she needed a moment to sort her response. She nodded slowly and gave a long sigh to buy time as she put together her answer. “It’s terrible,” she said. Keep it simple, don’t try anything fancy. “It’s my first time, yes.” Just don’t ask who I’m visiting.

  The dwarf nodded knowingly. “It gets easier the more you come. Though perhaps that isn’t likely for you—you don’t sound like you’re from Stelihn. In from the country?”

  Tinga nodded, slightly relieved. She’d been worried her accent would give her away, but if it passed for country bumpkin, she’d take it. “That’s right.”

  “It’s good that you’re visiting, then,” the dwarf said, and there was a spark of something in his eyes, like indignation. “It’s easy to pretend we don’t exist if you never see us. But that’s not going to be possible forever.” As quickly as it had come, the glint vanished, and he gave her a smile and nod. “Have a good visit. Perhaps we’ll talk again.” With that, he moved on to wherever he’d been going.

  She’d gotten through a conversation without anyone calling her out as an impostor. That was a good start. Tinga glanced around the room, looking for a good place to put herself. Several groups were eating at tables near the center of the room, and that was where the most lively conversation seemed to be. Tinga moved to the long buffet table set against the wall and took a dish, picking some food at random. She wasn’t really hungry—they’d eaten at the embassy, and although the food here didn’t look as bad as she’d expected, it didn’t inspire any extra appetite either. But she wanted to look like she had a reason to be there.

  She sat herself down at an empty table, nibbled at a piece of bread, and listened. Just behind her, an elven woman claimed a table alongside a gnome and an older human man, and started into a complaint about a safety precaution an overseer had ordered her to ignore. The men responded with a weary familiarity, as if it was nothing new. All three had the look of people who had been there for a very long time.

  Nobody seemed to be talking about anything of much importance, just sharing gossip or talking about their last shift in the workhouse. But Tinga hadn’t expected to hear anything vital the moment she sat down, and she suspected the nature of the conversations around her would change very soon.

  From where she sat, she watched Richt lead Tane and Ambassador Althir into the common room. The overseer took a deep breath, and then, “Attention, please.” He spoke in Belgrian for the benefit of the workers, of course; Tinga recognized the slight distance in Tane’s gaze as his earpiece translated.

  The room went silent instantly, and the air of easy companionship vanished, replaced with a palpable apprehension. These people didn’t expect anything good to come of an overseer addressing them.

  “We have some guests today,” Richt went on. “Investigators from Audland, looking into the recent tragedy. They will need to question some of you about your work leading up to the accident, and I will be sitting in to help facilitate the process.” So the request to question the mages one-on-one had been denied. No surprise there. “I expect any who are summoned to come without delay and cooperate fully.”

  Tinga let a small snort of air out through her nose at that. Cooperate. By which he means tell the story he’s already told them to tell.

  Richt looked over the room, and then beckoned to the older human man sitting with the elf and the gnome, the ones Tinga had been listening in on. “Gruben, please come with us. I will send for others as needed.”

  The man glanced at his friends, obviously nervous, but he didn’t risk defiance, just stood and followed Richt and the others out of the common room.

  It took a moment for the murmur of voices to return, starting out as low whispers and only growing when everyone was sure the overseer was out of earshot. The elf and the gnome at the table beside her leaned in to speak in low whispers, but Tinga’s ears were good, and she could make out much of what they were saying.

  “…they heard something about him?” The elven woman was probably talking about the man Richt had summoned.

  “I don’t think…” The gnome said a few words too quiet for Tinga to hear, and she couldn’t guess from context in Belgrian. “…to tell the Architect.”

  The architect? Who is that? Tinga shifted in her seat, trying to lean closer without being noticed.

  “Not here,” the elf whispered, to Tinga’s great disappointment. If there was anything to be heard about this architect, apparently she’d already missed it.

  Or maybe she just needed to try something a little bit more direct.

  Tinga put together her words in her head first—her Belgrian couldn’t sound suspect. Then she grabbed her plate and stood, turning to the elf and the gnome at the table behind her.

  “You two seem to know this place,” she said. “Was that normal?” Not too obvious. Make them think telling you what you want is their idea. Just like Tane had said. The University was teaching her about magic, but his lessons were more interesting—how to find the flaws in a spell by finding the flaws in the mage, how to use their preconceptions and blind spots against them. The lessons were applicable to more than just spellcraft.

  The elven woman glanced to Tinga’s wrist as if by instinct. “You are here visiting someone?” Her features showed more wear than was usual for an elf, with frown lines at the sides of her mouth and bags under her eyes.

  Tinga nodded. “My uncle.” She hoped they wouldn’t ask for a name.

  The gnome seemed less cautious than the elf. “Normal is whatever the overseers say, here,” he said caustically. “If he’s lucky, they just have some questions. Unlucky, and he’ll end up in the ward.”

  Tinga didn’t know what that meant, but he said it like she should, and she didn’t want to look too ignorant. She could tell it was bad, at least. “That’s terrible. They shouldn’t be allowed to take people like that.”

  The gnome and the elf exchanged glances, as if she’d said something important. Astra, did I give it away?

  But the elf woman only said. “Sit. My name is Aelis, and this is Bollo.” She gestured to a chair. “I take it this is your first time here?”

  Tinga sat. “Yes. I’m Grini.” When she was younger she’d had a friend by that name—it seemed better not to use her own.

  “And where is your uncle?” Bokko asked.

  “He’s working now,” she said. “But I’m in from the country, so I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She gave silent thanks to the dwarf she’d spoken to earlier for giving her that excuse. “He said I could eat here.”

  “Of course you can,” said Aelis. “Family is always welcome.” She offered a tired smile. “We haven’t always been allowed to have guests, but we’re trying to make up for it.”

  “Don’t you get tired of it all?” Tinga asked. “With magic on your side, couldn’t you… change things?” She hoped that wasn’t too far, but she needed them to understand that she was sympathetic to rebellious talk. She desperately wanted to ask about the architect they’d mentioned, but she held back. If they didn’t want to talk about it even without any overseers listening, they wouldn’t tell a complete stranger. She had to build up to that.r />
  “It’s not so easy, with these,” Bokko said, clanking his shackle against the table. “If they think for a moment that someone is a threat, they activate the bracelet.”

  Activate? Tinga had assumed the bracelets just prevented magic, which would always be active outside the workhouse. Richt certainly hadn’t mentioned anything more. But Bokko seemed to be implying something worse.

  She wasn’t sure if she should already know what it was, but she couldn’t resist asking this time. “What does that mean? Can they hurt you?”

  Again, Bokko and Aelis looked at one another, sharing something unspoken.

  “There are worse things than pain,” Aelis said. “You seem very… upset by all this. Many of our guests prefer not to think about the worst of it. They visit sometimes to feel they’ve done their duty, and that is enough for them.”

  “I just wish I could do something,” Tinga said. It was easy to be convincing—she meant every word.

  One more glance, and Aelis gave Bokko a small nod. “You take this one.”

  “Maybe there is something you can do,” he said, and hopped down from his chair. Standing, he was only a bit over three feet tall—even shorter than Tinga. “There’s someone you should talk to. If you’re interested, of course.”

  “I am,” said Tinga. “I want to help, if I can.” She couldn’t wait to tell Tane about this. Like it was their own idea. He’s not the only one who can do it.

  “Follow me, then,” said Bokko, and led her toward a corridor off the common room, leaving Aelis behind. “I think you’ll find what he has to say very interesting.”

  Tinga saved her words, just nodded and smiled. She didn’t know who ‘he’ was, but this definitely proved something was going on under the surface here. These people weren’t the loyal, happy workers Richt tried to claim they were. Good for them.

  She followed Bokko down the hall to a stairway and up several levels to the top floor of the residence. They passed people in the halls regularly, coming and going from their rooms and the like. Most had a nod or smile for Bokko; no one questioned Tinga’s presence at all.

  Bokko was an amiable man; he frequently looked back at her with a smile, talking as he walked. “We’re always looking for people who might help us get things done outside these walls. People without bracelets. Family of residents, ideally, so they can come and go freely.”

  “I can do that,” Tinga said. She wished she wasn’t just playing the part—she didn’t like lying to people who genuinely needed help.

  Finally, Bokko stopped before a door that looked like all the others. “This is the place.” He knocked out a short pattern: a long pause after the first, then two more quick knocks.

  Whether it was just a quirky choice or some sort of percussive code, a voice on the other side answered in Belgrian. “Enter.”

  Bokko opened the door, and ushered Tinga in. A modest office waited on the other side, and she knew the man behind the desk as soon as she saw him. An elven man with long blond hair tucked behind his ears and a face unlined with age. Vaelon Thiamor. The spokesperson of this residence, and the man who’d greeted them at the door.

  Which meant he’d seen her face before.

  Tinga almost froze midstep, and then forced herself to keep moving as if nothing was wrong. Maybe he won’t recognize me.

  Thiamor gestured at the door. “Bokko, some privacy?”

  Tinga glanced over her shoulder. Bokko was behind her, blocking the exit. He didn’t seem quite so friendly when he closed the door in her face.

  There was no way out. She was trapped.

  Tinga forced a smile and turned back toward Thiamor. “My name is Grini. They said you would tell me how I can help.” Her Belgrian sounded awkward and stilted to her own ears; she cursed herself for not practicing more.

  Thiamor didn’t smile back. His face was solemn, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “There’s no need to pretend, Miss Vreeg,” he said. “I know who you are.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  _____

  KADKA DREW HER knife as Klenn’s hand emerged from the drawer. She lunged forward, closing the distance between them.

  Klenn’s face went pale when he saw her coming, and he stumbled back a step. “What…?”

  “Drop—” Kadka cut herself off as she saw what he had in his hand.

  A carved wooden dragon.

  And she knew that handiwork. Her mother’s.

  She lurched to a halt. “What is this?”

  He held it out for her, hesitant and clearly nervous. “Your… your mother was carving it for you, when she found out she was pregnant. She… it was forgotten when she left. I thought you might like to have it.”

  Kadka swallowed the swell of emotion that constricted her throat. Her mother had carved so many toys for her when she was growing up, but this would have been the first. “You… you are giving me a present? That is all?”

  Klenn blinked, looked down at the dragon in his hand and back up at her. Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You thought it was a weapon.” He took a step forward, reached out to her. “Kadka, I would never…”

  She slashed her knife through the air, forcing him back. “No! You… you do not talk like you care for me! Changes nothing to give me this…” She snatched the dragon from his hand and threw it aside, though it hurt to do so. She didn’t want any gift from him, not even that. “This old thing! Is just a poskan lie so you can get information!”

  “I don’t… what are you talking about?” He looked lost, but it had to be an act. It had to be.

  “Do not lie to me!” Kadka snarled. “We know you go to crash site before us, set trap. We know you get Detehr to go up on airship. You are part of this.”

  “What? I never… I wouldn’t… That isn’t true!” Klenn stammered, panic setting into his voice. He held up both hands in surrender. “Please, I can explain!”

  She didn’t lower her knife. “Indree finds your name on list of people at site. Right before spellfire trap almost kills us. How do you explain this?”

  A glimmer in his eyes then, as if he was realizing something. “It wasn’t just—”

  Before he could finish, the door to the study exploded inward.

  Kadka whirled to see two human men pushing their way in through the splintered remains of the door. She recognized them. The guards from the entry hall. They were both big, broad shouldered and muscular. The one on the right had a long scar down his jaw and neck; the left-hand man had a clean-shorn scalp.

  “This isn’t necessary!” Klenn protested. “I have this under control.”

  Kadka glanced back at him, confused. They’d caught her holding him at knifepoint—she couldn’t imagine why he would call them off.

  It didn’t matter; the men didn’t listen. Both of them advanced, and drew their swords.

  “Enough!” Klenn shouted. “I order you to—”

  Kadka didn’t wait for him to finish, just charged the bald man—he was closer to her than the other. Their swords had a longer reach than her knife, and they presumably knew how to use them. She was going to need the advantage of surprise.

  But they surprised her instead. The bald man dodged nimbly around her knife and spun past; the scarred man stepped by her on the other side as if she wasn’t there. They both closed in around Klenn.

  For some reason she couldn’t fathom, they were going after him, not her. And she had a feeling she wasn’t going to get any answers unless she stopped them.

  She was going to have to save her father’s life.

  Kadka leapt onto the bald man from behind, tackling him into his friend. All three of them crashed hard into Klenn’s desk. Before he could recover, Kadka plunged her knife into the bald man’s back.

  “Go!” she shouted at Klenn, who was cowering uselessly against the back window.

  He did, scrambling past the three of them and sprinting for the broken door.

  The man Kadka had stabbed didn’t go down; instead, he slammed back against her and h
urled her free with incredible force. Her knife tore a deep gash in his back as it pulled free, and then she struck the bookshelf, knocking a small avalanche of heavy books down on top of her and forcing her to shield herself with her arms.

  The bald man was bleeding heavily from the wound in his back, but it didn’t even seem to slow him down. He whirled to follow Klenn, showing his face to Kadka once more.

  His eyes glowed bright silver.

  The scarred man moved for the door too—his eyes were still dark, but Kadka guessed he was under the effects of Thorpe’s elixir as well, he just hadn’t been pushed hard enough yet to bring out that telltale glow. These men were working for Endo, and they were Henred Klenn’s personal guard. Was that proof they were working together? Was Endo trying to silence Klenn now because he’d been about to tell Kadka something he wasn’t meant to tell?

  She had to stop these men if she was going to find out. Which wouldn’t be easy, if they had the strength and speed that came with the elixir.

  The guards were already in the corridor; she pushed herself to her feet, leapt through the broken doorframe, and gave chase. Under the influence of the elixir, they were faster than she was. Klenn had a head start, but they were closing on him, and she wasn’t going to catch up first.

  And then, at the far end of the entry hall ahead of Klenn, the front door swung open.

  Indree stepped inside, followed by Lieutenant Berken. They saw Klenn and two men who appeared to be in his employ barrelling down on them with swords drawn.

  Berken drew the ancryst pistol at her waist, and took aim. “Henred Klenn! In the name of the Belgrian Guard, stand down!” Her voice rang in Kadka’s head with a slight pressure, translated by the earpiece.