“Don’t trouble yourself, miss. A place to sit for a while is welcome.”
“Nonsense. Everyone gets food or drink in this house,” Thea said, and made her way indoors.
She paused just outside the kitchen, unseen in the hallway, and braced her hand against the wall for a moment, taking a long, slow breath. Moving the short distance from the street to the garden and then inside the house had woken up the bruising across her back.
She had not been quiet enough. “Thea, is that you?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Come and sit down. I can tell you’re hurting.”
“Yes, mama,” Thea said, and came into the kitchen.
It was a shock to see the dark robes of a mage in her mother’s kitchen. He seemed larger, and the kitchen smaller, than she remembered. Rather than settling at one of the mismatched chairs, Niath was inspecting the long row of herbs and spice jars that her mother had gathered over the years, exclaiming from time to time as he discovered something new.
There was a small packing crate, about the length of Thea’s forearm, set at one end of the table, its lid loose.
“Ah, now I see why you are up so late,” Thea commented.
“Yes,” her mother answered, eyeing the crate with a gleam in her eye. The gleam that promised a lot of hard work over the next few days. “Trader Miller managed to get all the supplies I needed.”
Thea did not know how her mother had managed to find them, but she had a network of traders throughout the city who managed to procure the ingredients that she could not grow for herself but that she needed for her medicines. Henrietta Miller was an infrequent but popular guest in her mother’s house and seemed to specialise in the rarest of ingredients, from what Thea could gather.
“That’s good,” Thea said, making her way slowly across the kitchen floor. She was on the other side of the table to Niath, which was just as well as the mage was still entranced by the contents of the shelves.
“Red thistle balm. Giant parsley. Oh, lemon frill. You have a truly impressive collection, Mistress March,” the mage said.
“Niath makes the most wonderful food,” Thea said, lowering herself onto a chair and biting her lip to hold in a groan.
“Really?” Her mother was beside her with a glass in hand. It was half full with what Thea knew from past experience was a potent pain-killing liquid. “All of it,” her mother said.
Thea grimaced, but took the glass and swallowed the whole of the medicine, eyes watering from the foul taste of it.
“Why can’t medicines taste nice?” she asked for the hundredth time, handing the glass back to her mother.
Her mother smiled, and put an arm around Thea’s shoulders, giving her a brief, gentle hug. “Because I am an apothecary, not a chef,” she answered for the hundredth time, and handed Thea the other jar she had taken from the shelf. Another medicine that Thea was familiar with. “Apply that as thickly as you can before you sleep and when you wake up. It will help the bruising.”
“Thank you,” Thea said, and put the jar on the table in front of her. She wasn’t sure she could move properly yet. The pain-killer would take effect soon, though. Her mother was highly skilled.
“Do sit down, Mage,” her mother said. “I’ll just take some tea out to Sam,” she added, and headed out of the kitchen, mug in one hand, plate in the other. Whether Sam wanted it or not, he would be getting tea, and something to eat.
“Does the medicine help?” Niath asked, taking a chair opposite Thea.
“Yes. My mother is very good at what she does,” Thea said, and straightened a fraction in her chair. The pain was already easing.
“And very knowledgeable with excellent resources,” Niath said, his eyes straying past Thea to where she knew there was another shelf full of ingredients. “I haven’t seen some of these things outside the Citadel kitchens.”
“Really? I know a lot of them are grown in the garden. And my mother has a network of suppliers across the city,” Thea said. She resisted the impulse to turn and follow Niath’s line of sight. Her back was still painful, and she saw the shelf every day. She had always known that their kitchen was far better stocked than most, but Niath’s comment reminded her of just how varied her mother’s interest and skills were. There was a reason she was so well known and well respected.
“I can see why you stay here,” Niath said. He was still staring at the shelves.
Thea felt her face warm. It was common enough in this city for adult children to stay with their parents until they were ready to set up their own household. It had never really occurred to Thea to move out. She had more than enough space here. She could reel off a list of reasons why she was still living with her mother but, in truth, she did not want to leave her mother alone.
Besides, this house, including the secret practice room in one of the outbuildings, was the only place she could be herself without restraint, and Caroline March was the only person in this whole city who truly knew her. Everywhere else she went, Thea had to be conscious of other people. Of the possibility that her true nature would be seen. And even though she was past the age of Conscription, the habit of secrecy was a hard one to break. Not to mention that most humans did not trust the Ageless-born.
The door opened and her mother came back inside, heading for the teapot. She came back to the table a moment later with a mug for Niath and a plate of what looked like small cakes. Thea eyed them with some suspicion. There were very few downsides to living in her mother’s house. Her mother’s experiments with food was one.
“Is that a new recipe, mama?”
“Yes, it is,” her mother said, putting a mug of tea in front of Thea and taking her seat at the head of the table, with her own mug. “I would be interested to know what you think?”
“Is this the first time you’ve made it?” Thea asked, not reaching for the plate.
Niath took one of the small cakes at her mother’s urging and bit into it. Thea could not read his expression, but reluctantly took a cake for herself under her mother’s scowl.
She managed to swallow the first bite and reached for her tea. “A little too much lemon,” she said, voice hoarse.
“Oh, dear. I didn’t think it would be strong enough, so I added more,” her mother said.
“Did you put any sugar into it at all?” Thea asked, taking the final bite of the cake. It was dense and so bitter her eyes were watering again.
“There’s honey in it,” her mother said, glaring at her.
Thea ducked her head to her drink and said nothing. Despite protesting that she was not a chef, her mother kept exploring new recipes and cooking ideas. Many of which ended up as burnt messes in the midden heap. The cakes were far from the worst thing that Thea had eaten in this kitchen.
“An interesting flavour,” Niath said. “It reminds me of the cakes that come from the islands.”
“Yes, that’s right,” her mother said, delighted.
“It’s a good first effort,” Thea said. Her mother frowned, but said nothing.
“Have you travelled to the islands, Mistress March?” Niath asked, taking a sip of his tea. It was an apothecary’s blend of herbs that, for once, actually tasted delicious. Thea seemed to remember that it had some of the red thistle balm in it that Niath had been excited to find on the kitchen shelf. His brows lifted in appreciation and he took another, longer sip.
“No,” her mother said, “But I would like to.”
Thea looked at her mother in some surprise. She had never once heard her mother say anything about a wish to travel.
“I couldn’t leave the shop, though. Or Thea,” her mother added.
“I can look after myself,” Thea protested, brows lifting. “If you wanted to go, you should go. They are supposed to have some amazing apothecaries.”
“They do,” her mother said, staring into her tea, her mouth curving into a smile. “I was lucky enough to have one for a teacher, many years ago.”
It was one of the few times that Thea had seen her mother
remember the past with a smile, rather than with pain, and she took a sip of her own tea, blinking to chase away the sting in her eyes. They had made a life for themselves in this city, with a good circle of neighbours and friends. But there were things that neither of them could forget.
Her mother lifted her head and smiled at Niath. “But, enough of old memories. Are you working with Thea again?”
“I am indeed,” Niath said, avoiding Thea’s eyes. “Officer March has been most helpful.”
“An interesting investigation?” her mother prompted.
“We can’t talk about it,” Thea said.
“Of course not. Did you hear about the Ageless destroying the market at Meadowcroft?” her mother asked.
“We were there after it happened,” Thea said, leaning back against the chair and wincing as her bruises met the chair back.
“So, what happened at the market?” her mother prompted.
Thea hesitated, long enough to draw a frown from her mother. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can tell you everything. But one of the Ageless was there. She lost her temper. Killed a man.”
“Oh, no. Was anyone else hurt?” her mother asked.
“An older woman died as well,” Niath said. “Possibly her heart gave out.”
“The market was left in pieces,” Thea added, knowing that would concern her mother.
“That sounds like a difficult day,” her mother said. “Was there anything burning there? You both smell of smoke.”
“No. We went to where the dead man had lived. In Highfield. Someone had set his building on fire,” Thea said. She tilted her head to Niath. “Luckily, the mage managed to put the fire out.”
“I’m glad I could help before it got any worse,” he said.
“A difficult day indeed,” her mother said. In the dim light of the kitchen she looked older all of a sudden. Thea reached a hand out and her mother took it.
“It was. But I’ll be fine,” Thea said, thankful that she had not had a chance to tell her mother about the giant octopus.
She saw Niath’s gaze linger on her hand, and his normally inscrutable expression slipped for a moment into something that might have been longing. She wondered again about where he had come from. He always seemed a solitary figure. She could not imagine him sitting at a kitchen table, holding hands with his mother.
Whatever feelings he had were tucked away a moment later as he finished his tea, thanked her mother for the tea and the cake, and said goodnight.
Thea stayed in the kitchen at her mother’s urging, bracing herself for standing up and waking up the bruises across her back, while her mother showed the mage and groom out of the gate.
She had made it to her feet when her mother came back into the kitchen, carrying the tray she had taken out for Sam.
“What a nice young man,” her mother said, setting the tray next to the sink, then coming back to the table for the mugs and plates.
Thea choked on a laugh. Only her mother could refer to one of the most powerful mages in the known worlds as a nice young man.
“I told him that he is welcome here any time,” her mother added, turning the tap on to fill the sink. She glanced over her shoulder at Thea. “You should rest. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Thea managed a smile, and a hug, for her mother, then made her way, slowly, up the stairs to her bedroom. She remembered the expression of longing that had come across Niath’s face, and thought that it was more than likely he would be back in her mother’s kitchen before long. Her mother had an instinct for gathering lost souls to her, and despite his confidence and power, she would see Niath as someone in need.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Even with her mother’s remedies, Thea was stiff and sore the next day. Her mother had made her swallow another dose of the pain-killer before leaving the house, and the taste lingered even after breakfast. The bruising across her back should be gone by the end of the day.
There was no time to rest, though. There was work to do.
A Watch messenger had arrived at the door even as Thea was swallowing the foul-tasting medicine, letting her know that the captain wanted to see her as soon as she was able.
Thea welcomed the walk across the city, her muscles gradually easing as she moved.
She was not surprised to see Sam and the horses gathered outside the station.
“Good morning, Sam.”
“Morning, miss. Niath is inside.”
“Thank you,” she said, and went in to exchange a greeting with Watchman Hobbs at the front desk, who waved her on into the building. She stopped in the main room and signed out a crossbow and bolts. All Watch Stations kept a few extra, and she did not want to go back to her own station to get the set she normally used.
Niath was in the captain’s office with Sutter, Iason and Dina.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Thea said.
“You aren’t,” Ware said. “Do close the door.”
“Sir.” Thea did as she was asked.
Ware, Iason and Dina looked as if they hadn’t slept much. It was impossible to tell with Sutter. Niath was inscrutable.
“I’ve spoken to the Sergeant at Highfield,” Ware said before she could say anything. “I know about the brawl, and why no Watchman was at the dead man’s room.”
“The Watchman I spoke to was concerned,” Thea said.
“It’s not their fault,” Ware said. He was not pleased by something. The tightness around his mouth made that clear. But he would not blame the Watch in Highfield for doing their job and trying to keep the citizens from killing each other in a brawl rather than standing guard over an empty room.
“We found these,” Niath said, pulling a pouch out of his robes and setting it onto the captain’s desk. He opened it to reveal the coins they had found the day before. “All forgeries.”
“That’s a lot,” Iason commented.
“We think they were stored somewhere in the dead man’s room,” Thea added. “They fell when the floor did.” Her back muscles twitched, reminding her of her own fall.
“So the dead man was definitely connected with the forgers somehow. If only Laurelle could have controlled her temper,” Dina said.
It was close to open criticism of the Ageless, but no one in the room disagreed or even raised an eyebrow. In Thea’s opinion, Dina had the right to criticise her former mistress. And, if anyone knew about Laurelle’s temper, it was likely to be one of her former assistants.
“We need more people on this,” Ware said. “The Citadel had given us four days, but Commander Reardon suggested we may not have that long before the Ageless interfere. Thea, I want you to go to the furnaces Sutter identified. You saw the mint, so you’re more likely to know what to look for. Sutter and one of the officers here are going to follow up on the dead man. Piet Riga. And the other names he used. Iason, Dina, I have a bad feeling we’re going to have more bodies for you to look at before this is done.”
“Sir, there’s something else,” Thea said, before Ware could dismiss them all. Every eye in the room turned to her. “There were four men at the Wheatcroft market. I saw them at the Brightfield market as well, when I went to question the herbalist. They seem to be running some sort of gang. The stall holders at Wheatcroft were afraid of them. And the leader pointed us to Meadowcroft market.” And to Piet Riga, indirectly. If the gang had been around the city’s markets, they would doubtless have seen the jeweller. She wondered if the gang leader had known that Piet was in possession of forged coins.
“Indeed?” Ware’s brows lifted. “I haven’t heard anything about a new gang operating.”
“Me neither, sir,” Sutter said, in a tone which suggested he was going to make it his personal mission to find out why he had not been told sooner.
“You think they might be involved?” Dina asked, eyes sharp.
“I don’t know. But it seems odd they were in the two places, and made a point of mentioning Meadowcroft market to me.” Thea hesitated a moment. “They had a
lso been paying attention to the Ageless visits to the markets. It might be simple curiosity,” she added. “If they were at other markets, they might also have seen Piet Riga,” she finished.
“Do you have a description of them?” Sutter asked, pulling a notepad and pencil out from his pocket.
“I can provide you with a sketch,” Niath offered. His skin darkened as all eyes turned to him. “It’s a hobby of sorts. May I?” he asked, holding out his hand for Sutter’s notebook.
The Senior Sergeant handed over his notebook without hesitation. Niath turned to a pair of blank pages and frowned down at the paper. Thea felt a curl of magic creep into the room. Niath said a word, too low for even her sharp hearing to catch, and images appeared on the pages. He turned to the next pair of blank pages and repeated the process. That done, he held the notebook out to Thea.
“Are these accurate?”
She stared at what looked like masterfully executed pencil drawings of four familiar faces. He had even managed to get the look of disdain on the bearded man’s face.
“Yes. These are amazing,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said, colour still high, and passed the notebook back to Sutter.
“That is more than a passing hobby,” Sutter observed, brows lifting as he stared at the sketches.
“I find it interesting,” Niath said, folding his hands behind his back.
“That one is the leader,” Thea said, pointing to the first sketch. “He’s older than the others, I think. I couldn’t place his accent. Probably born somewhere in the city. The last one is quite a bit younger and has a bit of a temper.”
“And you saw them at Brightfield and Wheatcroft markets?” Sutter asked.
“Yes. And in both places they seemed familiar with the markets and stall holders,” Thea confirmed. She hesitated. “I’d like to go back to Brightfield market today. The herbalist was hiding something when I spoke to her.”
“In connection with the forgeries?” Ware asked, brows lifting.
“No, sir,” Thea said, her own face heating up. “This was the, er, faulty product complaint.”
False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2 Page 15
