False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  “That would help,” Thea said.

  “The top floor, at the back. There’s a hot patch there. The rest of the burning came from there,” Niath said.

  In the poor light, it was hard to tell, but Thea thought that his eyes were darker, his voice lower. Shedding his human aspect, the hiandar that lived under his skin coming to the surface. A human would not have noticed the changes. Not yet. A ripple of power slid through the air, warm and welcoming. She had taken a half step closer to him before she realised it.

  “I expect that’s where Piet Riga lived,” Thea said, looking around her at the other residents fleeing the building.

  “Watch on approach!”

  The welcome shout cut through the babble from the fleeing people, and the crackle of burning.

  The first Watchman came to a halt near her, eyes on the building ahead.

  “Is everyone out?” the Watchman asked. Thea knew him from her time at the station. An older Watchman, who seemed capable of dealing with anything that came in his way.

  “I think so. Mage?” Thea asked.

  “There are a few people still on the top floor,” Niath answered, eyes unfocused, another spill of power sliding through the air. “I think the stairs might be on fire.”

  “Do you have men inside?” Thea asked. Ware had said he was sending Watchmen to the building, to Piet Riga’s lodging.

  “No. We had none to spare yet. We’ve had a busy night,” the Watchman answered her, face tight as he looked at the building. “Tavern brawl that spilled into the streets,” he added, glancing at her.

  “Busy, indeed,” Thea agreed. She had been involved in trying to contain one of those brawls when she was training. Despite the extra numbers of Watchmen and women on the night shift, they would still have been outnumbered. “Anyone injured?”

  “Nothing serious.”

  “Good,” Thea said, and meant it.

  “Form a line,” the Watchman ordered, turning to the other Watchmen. “And stop some of these citizens. We need the help.”

  “A line?” Niath asked.

  “For water buckets,” Thea said, taking her place beside the older Watchman. They weren’t that far from the river and, even in Highfield, the water buckets used to put out fires were always in place. No one wanted to steal a bucket only to find it was their home that was burning.

  “You’re going to throw water on the fire?” Niath asked.

  “Unless you have a better idea, yes,” Thea said, voice sharp.

  “I can bring some water here,” he offered. “Can you get everyone out of the way? Keep them back?”

  “Yes,” Thea said, and turned to the other Watchmen. They were ahead of her, using the line they had formed to push back the residents who, now they were safely out of the building, were turning back to stare at the burning.

  “Stay behind me,” Niath said, and took a long step forward, his robes stirring around him as his power spread out again.

  The power he had released before had been a tiny part of everything he held. Thea’s skin warmed at the force of magic coiling in the street.

  Niath stood perfectly still as the building burned and the residents stared, seeming to do nothing. Except that the power around him grew and grew until it was all Thea could sense, every breath drawing magic into her lungs. It was full of warmth and life and she wanted more of it.

  Then he moved, lifting one hand slowly. The hand closer to the distant river, making a beckoning motion.

  A draft of cool air brushed Thea’s cheek, carrying with it the tang of the sea and she turned in time to see a flow of something moving along the street in the direction of the river. She blinked, wondering if she had imagined it. But, no, she had not. There was water flowing along the street. And not just a trickle. The water was about as wide as a man was tall, and twice as high, surging along the packed earth of the street.

  As she watched the water come closer, she heard muttering behind her. The residents and a few of the Watchmen growing uneasy at the approaching flood.

  “It’s alright,” she said, turning to them, “the mage has it under control. Just stay back.”

  There was a shuffling of feet as many of the people moved further away. Still close enough to see what was going on, their curiosity holding them there.

  The flow of water had reached the edge of the building now. Niath lifted his hand. The water rose up the side of the side of the building.

  There was hissing as the cool water met the fire, then more smoke, billowing into the air, too thick to see through.

  The water flowed on, coating the outside of the building, pouring in through the open windows, the flames dying.

  Thea realised that the water had stopped flowing, the street where it had come from gleaming damp in the night air.

  “That’s all I can do for now,” Niath said. He did not sound himself. He had his face turned away from the Watchmen and the humans who had gathered, staring at the sodden building. Hiding his other aspect, Thea guessed.

  She took a step towards him and caught him as he staggered, putting her shoulder under his arm and taking his weight. He sagged against her, the faintest trace of a decadent scent curling into her breath.

  “The fire is out. You’ve done more than enough. Can you send the water back?” she asked.

  “Already done,” he answered, lifting his head, showing his human face as he straightened away from her.

  She looked back at the building and saw he was right. The water that had surged up and coated the building was sliding away, back along the street. It had lost some of its sleek shape, trails of it running off into side streets, but most of it was flowing back the way it had come.

  “Is it safe to go into the building now?” she asked him.

  “Yes. The fire is out. Although the floor might be wet.”

  “I’ll manage. Thank you,” she added, striding forward to the door. Niath had said that there were people in the building still. She wanted to make sure they were safe. And to see if there was anything left of the dead man’s room.

  She realised he was following her as she reached the front of the building and wrenched the sodden, warped, wooden door open.

  “You don’t have to come,” she said.

  “Watch out,” he said, putting an arm in front of her.

  Just in time.

  A half-dozen men, in wet clothing, ran out of the door.

  “First a fire and then a flood. The house is cursed,” one of the men shouted at her as he ran past.

  “Watchman, take their details, please,” Thea called.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the senior Watchman replied, and waved his men forward, stopping the soaked men from leaving entirely.

  Trusting that it would be done, Thea went ahead into the building. It stank. The scent of the sea was no match for the odours of stale sweat, mould, and damp, rotting wood.

  “Ugh. That’s horrible,” she said, covering her nose with her sleeve for a moment.

  “It’s certainly fragrant,” Niath agreed, following her up the stairs.

  The stairs creaked ominously under their weight, but held. Thea suspected that they had creaked long before the fire. She would be amazed if the building could survive the damage.

  The stench of the place faded a little as the smell of burning grew stronger. Even the sea water had not managed to remove that completely.

  At the top of the stairs, she could see the trail of the fire. To one side, almost everything had burned. On the other side, there was charring, but it looked like the rooms were intact.

  “Can you tell if there is anyone else in the building?” Thea asked.

  “I don’t believe so. No one alive, anyway,” Niath answered.

  She took a careful step forward into the burned half of the floor and stopped at once as the floor under her trembled. It held after a moment, and she took another step. One of the floorboards had burned away, and she could see the charred remains of a ceiling below her. She paused, drew a breath, coughe
d at the stink, and kept going. One careful step after another, her eyes watering from the smell and the traces of smoke still in the air.

  The room at the far end of the hallway had been where the fire started. She stopped on the threshold and looked around. Everything had burned. Whatever furniture had been in the room had been reduced to ash.

  “We’re not going to find anything here,” she said, turning to Niath.

  As she turned, she moved her feet, and the floor under her gave way.

  She fell.

  Down and down and down.

  Panic rose. Falling. She was falling.

  She opened her mouth to scream. And landed with a thump on the floorboards below.

  “Officer March?” Niath’s voice, and Niath’s face, not that far above her. He was peering through a hole in the floor. “Are you alright?”

  She tried to speak and found she had no breath. Her lips moved.

  She rolled to her side, trying to breathe, her vision fading.

  Air in her lungs. Pain spreading across her back. Thudding in her ears. And a collection of points of light all around her.

  “Officer March.” It was Niath again. Closer this time.

  He was crouching in front of her, dark robes gathered around him, face tight with concern as he looked at her.

  “Winded,” she managed to say, her voice croaking. She pointed to the shining objects around her.

  “Coins,” Niath said, and looked up. “They must have been in the floor of the room above.”

  Piet Riga’s room. He must have had a hiding place under the floorboards. Thea’s brows lifted. The jeweller had been doing well for himself.

  Niath reached out and picked up the nearest coin, his brows lifting. “They are forgeries.”

  She coughed, the pain of it making her eyes water, and managed to get to a kneeling position, bracing her hands on her knees, trying to breathe. She blinked to clear her eyes and stared at the coin Niath was holding. It looked like one of the Archon’s coins, but she trusted his judgement that it was a forgery.

  There were coins all around them. Perhaps two dozen. Perhaps more.

  “Are they all fake?” she asked, voice still rasping.

  “Yes,” he answered, without looking. “There’s not a single genuine coin here.”

  She tried to speak and coughed, doubling over, pain spreading across her back.

  “You need a healer,” Niath said.

  “I’ll be fine. Just bruised,” she said, and got to her feet to prove that she was fine, the effect spoiled as she staggered and had to hold herself upright with one hand on the smoke-damaged wall. “Nothing broken,” she assured him.

  He frowned at her, clearly not believing her, then rose to his feet, looking at the coins around them. “We should take these with us.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, and bent to pick one of them up. Or, rather, tried to. A spasm of pain across her back took her by surprise and she hissed, putting her hand back on the wall. “I’ll get the Watchmen to do it.”

  “No need. I’ll get the coins. You stand there,” Niath said.

  Thea blinked, not sure if she should believe her own eyes, as a Citadel Mage crouched in the middle of a burned building and collected coins with his own hands, putting them into a pouch that he drew out of his robes.

  “Twenty-eight coins,” he told her, holding up the pouch.

  “That’s a lot to keep in one place. I wish Laurelle hadn’t killed Piet,” Thea said. They had been closer to answers than they had known.

  “Yes,” Niath agreed, face tightening. “Hopefully the other stall holder will be able to tell us something.”

  “Yes,” Thea said, and took a step away from the wall. She didn’t fall over. So she took another step. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt. “I think we should perhaps start again in the morning,” she said.

  “That is a good plan,” Niath said. There was no hint of laughter in his voice or face. “I’ll get Sam to bring the horses,” he said, and moved to the window of the room, putting his fingers to his mouth and sending a sharp, two-toned whistle into the night air. Quite different to the metal whistles that the Watch used, but there was an answering sound from the dark a moment later.

  “That’s handy,” Thea said, focusing on getting herself to the stairs. Her Ageless-born body would heal far faster than a human’s, but she had landed badly, and her heritage did not save her from pain.

  Niath didn’t say anything, following her slow progress down the stairs without comment until they reached the street.

  Sam and the three horses were outside, the groom in what looked like a friendly conversation with the senior Watchman.

  “Do you want the names, ma’am?” the Watchman asked.

  “Not just now. Could you send them to Senior Sergeant Sutter for me?” Thea said, most of her attention on the horse in front of her and wondering how on earth she was going to get onto its back.

  “Of course, ma’am. Are you alright, ma’am? You don’t look too good.”

  The Watch had set up a few lanterns in the street, allowing human eyes to see.

  “The floor gave way,” she said. “The building will need to be repaired before anyone can live in it again.”

  “Not likely, ma’am. The owner doesn’t like spending money,” the Watchman said, mouth tight as he looked at the building.

  “You know the owner?”

  “Ay. One of the merchant’s guild. Likes to pretend he’s a clever businessman,” the Watchman said, bitterness clear in his voice.

  Thea followed his gaze to the ruined building. It had already been in a poor state before the fire. And it had been full, every room occupied. The merchant would have been getting a tidy income from the property, and spending nothing on it.

  “There was a caretaker, I think?” Thea asked.

  “Ay. He’s long gone. But we know him. I’m sure we can find him if you want to speak with him.” The Watchman sounded like he would quite like to find the caretaker.

  “I think your officers will want to do that,” Thea said, her voice still hoarse. “The fire started on the upper floor, in one of the back rooms.”

  “So not an accident, then?” the Watchman asked.

  “No. Definitely not.”

  “One of our officers is on the way,” the Watchman said. He eyed Thea up and down. “I’m sure he could speak with you tomorrow, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Thea said, trying to smile. She must look as bad as she felt, for him to be trying to send her home. “I’ll be speaking to the captain tomorrow, too. I’ll let him know about the brawl.” The tavern fight that had stopped the Watch being here to guard the dead man’s room.

  “Thank you,” the Watchman answered, shaking his head slightly. “He’s a fair man, and we don’t like letting him down.”

  “The fire was deliberate. If your men had been there, they might have been injured. Or worse,” Thea added, and swayed slightly. She took a step to her horse’s side and leant against his warm bulk.

  “We should go,” Niath said. “Tomorrow is going to be just as long a day.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Thea half-dozed for the journey across the city to her mother’s house, the horse under her steady and calm. Perhaps he was tired, too.

  They arrived outside her mother’s house in the deep night, when the streets around were empty. All the working folk would be tucked up in their beds, getting much-needed rest before another day’s labour. Even the taverns were closing.

  Thea slid off Hern’s back and landed on the ground with a thump that jarred her teeth and set off the pain across her back again.

  The side gate to the house opened, and her mother stepped into the street, lantern in hand. Her human eyes needed the extra light.

  “Thea, I thought that was you. You’re hurt. What happened?” her mother asked, lifting the lantern so that she could see Thea’s face and Thea could see the concern on her mother’s face.

  Caroline March had worried wh
en her daughter chose to join the Watch. But it was safer, by far, than being Conscripted. And the Watch did not normally get badly hurt. There were no bladed weapons allowed within the city, a rule that very, very few people ever tried to break. No one with any sense wanted to risk the Ageless’ wrath. And the Watch’s uniforms had some basic protections built in. So injuries were usually minor. The occasional bruise or bloody nose from trying to break up a brawl, or a domestic argument. Injuries that took even humans only a few days to recover from.

  “A floor gave way under me,” Thea said. “Nothing broken.”

  Her mother had seen the other two by now, and Thea watched her expression change from surprise to curiosity.

  “This is Mage Niath and Sam,” Thea said. “This is my mother. Caroline March.”

  “Mistress March,” Niath said, putting his hand on his heart and bowing, even from horseback. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for escorting my daughter home. Won’t you come in for some tea?”

  Niath glanced at Thea, clearly startled by the question. Her mouth twitched in a smile.

  “We like visitors in this house,” Thea told him. “There’s space for the horses through the gate, and they’ll be safe on their own there, if Sam wants some tea as well.”

  “That’s kind of you, miss, but I’ll stay with the horses,” Sam said, getting off his horse and holding his hand out for Thea’s reins.

  “If you’re sure, then,” her mother said. “Thea, why don’t you show Sam where the water pump is for the horses. Niath, why don’t you come with me.”

  Niath meekly followed Thea’s mother, whose head did not reach his shoulder, into the house, while Thea held the gate open to let Sam into the garden, closing the gate behind the horses. She lit the lantern that hung just inside the gate and showed Sam the water pump and old trough as well as a bench he could rest on if he wanted.

  The groom was looking at the stretch of garden ahead of him. He took in a long, deep breath, and smiled.

  “This is a beautiful place,” he said.

  “Thank you. My mother will be pleased you think so,” Thea said. “I’ll bring you some tea in a moment.”