Iason appeared in front of her, a frown on his face. He held a small vial out to her, and mimicked drinking. It took her two attempts to get hold of the vial.
She tilted her head back, the world spinning in nauseating circles, and swallowed the contents of the vial.
Her ears popped, loudly and painfully, and she huddled forwards, cradling her head in her hands.
“Thea, can you hear me?” Iason’s voice.
“Physician. Yes, I can.”
“Will you let me take a look at you?” he asked.
“Of course.” She straightened a little, taking her hands away from her face. Both of her hands had blood on them.
“You got the edge of a magical weapon,” Iason told her, face serious as he put his hands, very gently, on her head. “It hurt your ears. The medicine I gave you should help with the pain and start healing.”
“It hurts less, yes,” Thea agreed.
“Can you follow my finger?” Iason asked, holding one hand up in front of her.
“Which one?” Thea asked, trying to focus. For some reason, Iason looked as if he had two forefingers.
“I think you probably have a concussion. With the healing I’ve given you, you should be fine soon. I will clean the blood off if you’ll sit there for a bit. Do try not to get in any more fights, please,” Iason said, a rare smile showing as he got to his feet.
“Sir,” Thea acknowledged, feeling heat rise on her face.
Iason’s slender form was replaced by a larger shadow that shrunk as Ware crouched in front of her.
“What happened?” he asked.
Thea shook her head a fraction, not sure how to answer the question. The movement woke up the pain and she hissed, gritting her teeth. “Sir, I’m not sure how much you know so far?”
“Only that there is a body in that old house, and a furnace,” Ware said.
“Then you have a lot to catch up on,” Iason said, coming back to Thea’s side. “This will sting a bit, but try to stay still,” he warned her, before applying a cool, damp cloth to the side of her head.
It stung as if a dozen bees had attacked her. She hissed in pain again and locked her jaw, trying to remain as still as possible while the physician wiped blood away from the side of her face.
“Good. You have a small cut just inside your hairline,” Iason said, “but it will heal soon.” He moved to her other side and repeated the process. “No cut here. The blood was from your ears.”
“My ears?” Thea repeated, sounding stupid.
“The weapon that was used. The mage’s ears are bleeding, too,” Ware said, glancing back at Niath, who was still lying on the ground. “Now, will you tell me what happened?”
“Sir. We were going through the list of possible furnaces that Senior Sergeant Sutter provided. This was the second we tried. When we arrived, there was a man here. He tried to crush us under the wall and ran off. I tagged him with a bolt, but I saw the body before I could follow. So I called for the Watch. The physician and examiner had only just arrived when two men attacked us.” Thea paused, and turned, carefully, to look over her shoulder at the bushes. “They’ve taken the pony. I didn’t manage to tag them,” she added, more heat in her face, annoyed at her failure. She had been too busy trying to fight them with swords to use her crossbow.
“The men were armed,” Iason added. “The magical weapon, whatever it was, that was used on Mage Niath. And they had swords. That is one,” he added, pointing to the weapon that Ware had put on the ground.
“This is a well-crafted weapon,” Ware said.
“They were well-trained,” Thea said. She rested her elbows on her knees and bent forward slowly, carefully so that her head did not spin, easing the ache in her back.
“Can you describe them?” Ware asked.
“No. Their faces were covered,” Thea said, straightening as carefully as she had leant forward.
“Two men using magic and swords,” Ware summarised. He did not look happy.
Thea could not blame him.
The Watch generally had to deal with petty crimes, tavern brawls and domestic arguments. The more serious crimes, like Delilah’s murder, usually had a mundane explanation.
There was nothing mundane about this. Thea had never heard of a magical weapon that could knock a person over. Or worse. Niath was still lying still under Dina’s watchful eye.
“Who would make such magic?” she asked. It was one of the subjects where she had no direct knowledge at all. She might be able to recognise magic and appreciate its use, but she had no idea how a weapon might be crafted from magic.
“Mages,” Ware said, with a heavy voice. “They don’t all make useful benign spells. Some of them are damned dangerous.” He glanced back at Niath as he spoke, and Thea wondered what he knew, or suspected, about the mage.
“Does that mean we’ll need to ask the Citadel?” she asked, stomach sinking at the thought. She would far rather ask Niath. But he had not moved.
It took a lot to injure one of the night kind, and Niath was hiandar. His other nature, and rapid healing abilities, should have had him back on his feet long before her. He must be badly injured.
Concern gave her the energy to move. She managed to get to her feet, swaying a little, and took the remaining few steps so that she could see him better.
There was a scorch mark across his chest, where the whatever-it-was had struck him. There were traces of blood at his ears, that Iason was cleaning away even as Thea watched, but no other obvious injury. And yet, the mage was not moving.
“Will he wake?” Thea asked, throat tight.
“I think so. His breathing is steady, and his pulse is strong,” Iason said, glancing up at her. “You should not be on your feet just yet,” he added.
“I feel better,” Thea told him. “Thank you.”
“You’re not healed yet,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Why do the young ones always think that they’re immortal?” he asked, seemingly addressing the air in front of him.
“Don’t worry,” Dina said, in a falsely cheerful tone, “a few more blows to the head and she’ll soon learn.”
Thea opened her mouth to remind them both that she could hear them, but held her words in as Niath’s expression changed. He had looked almost relaxed, as if he had been sleeping, and now frowned.
Iason and Dina both rose to their feet and took a few paces away. Iason waved Thea back.
“What?” she asked, obeying the physician’s order.
“He is a powerful mage, and he was attacked by magic. His waking could be unpredictable,” Iason told her.
They didn’t know about Niath’s other nature, she realised. They might suspect. But, as people with secrets of their own, they would not pry. Still, if they were worried about a wounded mage waking, they would be even more concerned about a wounded hiandar waking.
“We should be further away,” Thea said, following her own advice, hoping they would follow and she would not have to blurt out Niath’s secret.
To her relief, everyone else moved with her. They retreated to just inside the door of the building, using the ruined wall as cover while Niath stirred.
The mage groaned, and muttered a curse that made Thea’s brows lift. He had clearly spent time among sailors.
He sat up slowly, groaning again, putting a hand on his chest, and looked around him, blinking as he saw the group of them huddled in the doorway. An unexpected smile crossed his face.
“Don’t worry. I’m quite safe,” he said. “Almighty gods and goddesses, what hit me?” he asked, trying to get to his feet. He failed on the first attempt.
Thea went across to him and held out a hand.
“Some kind of magical weapon,” she told him.
He put his hand in hers, fingers cooler than she remembered. His skin was rough, the sort of hands used to work. He gripped her hand and she pulled him upright, ignoring the protest of the muscles across her back.
“Magic?” he said, looking around, then looking do
wn at his chest. “Where else did it hit?”
“Two other places,” Thea remembered. “One over here.” She pointed to the scorch mark on the ground, where she had managed to avoid the first weapon thrown at her. “And then in the bushes over there.” There was another scorch mark, along with twisted and broken branches.
Niath ignored the plants, going instead to the ground, and lowering himself to crouch beside it.
Thea felt the warm and welcome coil of his magic unfolding. It was weaker than she was used to. The mage might be on his feet and moving, but he was not whole.
“Should you be doing that?” she asked.
He glanced up, mouth tilting in what might have been a smile.
“You were unconscious a moment ago,” she pointed out. “And I don’t want to have to lift you onto your horse.”
“Don’t worry, Sam will manage,” he told her, looking back at the ground, but not before she had seen his smile.
“Young ones, eh?” Dina said, from somewhere behind Thea.
Thea didn’t respond, her eyes on Niath. All humour had vanished from his face, and his shoulders were stiff as he stared down at the ground.
“Do you recognise the weapon, Mage?” she asked.
“I do.” He straightened, more slowly than he normally moved, his shoulders rolled a little forward, as if his chest hurt, his face as serious as she had ever seen it. “It’s a very old, very rare type of magic. A weapon against the Ageless,” he added, meeting her eyes. “The old name for it is fyr na dathan. It translates as something like fire of the gods.”
Thea felt her skin crawl, a chill running through her.
A weapon against the Ageless.
Fire of the gods.
Used by two men who had swords in a city where the citizens were forbidden from bladed weapons.
And the men were most likely part of a group that were forging the Archon’s coins.
Thea swallowed a lump in her throat.
“The Ageless are not going to be happy,” she said, voice constricted.
“No,” Niath agreed, mouth in a thin line.
He knew how powerful the Ageless were. But he didn’t have the memories she did. Of the damage that the Ageless could do when the citizens had displeased them. Laurelle’s destruction of the market at Meadowcroft was a typical response from the Ageless. Niath might believe it was a one-off, but Thea remembered the devastation of one merchant who had, somehow, displeased the Ageless. His home and his warehouses had been destroyed. And no one wanted to do business with him after that. The merchant had died not long after, his widow and children going back to her family with nothing but the clothes they wore.
The Ageless were already annoyed by the forged coins. If the Ageless believed that there were people within Accanter with the skills to make weapons that could be used against them, they would tear the entire city apart in looking for them. And not care who they hurt in the process.
~
“Who would know how to make such a weapon?” Thea asked.
Niath’s face changed, attention focusing on her, eyes narrowing. “That is a very good question,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think that anyone alive knew the spells.”
“You knew what it was,” Thea pointed out.
“I recognised it from a description in the Citadel library.”
“Would the description be anywhere else?” Ware asked. He was standing nearby, Sutter with him, Dina and Iason on either side of the Watch officers, all of them frowning at the mage. To Thea’s eyes, Ware seemed paler than normal. Doubtless, like her, thinking about what the Ageless might do if they learned there was someone with a magical weapon in the city.
“It’s possible,” Niath said, and shook his head slightly. “I don’t know.” He coughed, and put a hand to his chest. “Ouch. May I recommend that you avoid those weapons if possible?”
“Noted,” Ware said, wry tone to his voice.
A weapon made of magic designed to work against the Ageless. And Niath had taken the full force of it and survived. The others must be wondering how he had survived.
“Can we get bloodhounds to try and track the men?” Thea asked, turning to Ware. The Watch itself didn’t have scent hounds, but a few owners had co-operated with the Watch in the past.
“It’s not likely to help,” Dina said, shaking her head. “That damned herb will have messed up the entire scent pattern around here. And that’s before we added the candle.”
“The pony,” Niath said abruptly.
“You’ve remembered where you saw it before?” Thea asked.
“Yes.” He frowned, as if doubting his own memory. “I’m sure I’ve seen it at the Citadel stables. Making a delivery.”
“The Citadel?” Thea’s voice rose.
“Yes.” Niath was frowning. “A few days ago. Before the first coin came to light. It was near the kitchens.”
“I can’t ask questions there,” Thea said, before Niath could suggest it, a knot in her middle.
“No. But Commander Reardon can order the staff to co-operate,” Ware said, lines around his mouth when Thea turned to stare at him. “I don’t like it,” he added. “Not at all. This is a city matter. But if there are trails leading back to the Citadel, we’ll need his help.”
“Do you think he will help?” Thea heard the question and only when the words were out realised she had spoken.
“I think he wants answers,” Ware answered slowly.
“Is there anything else we can do?” Sutter asked. He had been so quiet it was easy to forget he was there. But the question was a good one.
“I need to make a full examination of Delilah Soames,” Iason said.
“I want to test the plant matter that’s been found here,” Dina added.
“Did you get a result as to what killed Edmund Anderson?” Thea asked. “Or what was in the soap?”
“Interesting you should ask,” Dina said, eyes brightening. “I’ve never come across it before. It seems to be some kind of plant extract. And it’s the same thing.”
Thea blinked, wondering if she had heard correctly. “The same poison was in the bliss that killed Edmund Anderson and in the soap that turned the merchant’s skin blue?” she asked.
“Yes, exactly.” Dina’s face was lit up with excitement. She had been given a puzzle to solve. “When I’ve had a look around here, I thought I might take some to your mother.”
“You haven’t spoken with her already?” Thea asked, surprised.
“No. It took most of the morning to break down the soap ingredients,” Dina said. “And then I had to double-check everything as it seemed strange the same element would be in the soap and the bliss.”
“We were discussing the anomaly when we got your message,” Iason added. “Between us, Dina and I have a wide knowledge of plants and plant extracts. But we’ve not come across this one before.”
“I see.” Thea wanted to move, to pace around, but she was still not quite steady on her feet. Instead, she tucked her hands behind her back, clasping her fingers together, holding herself still. Another mystery. As if they didn’t have enough already.
“We’ve got the stall holder from Wheatcroft at the station. Margo Corris,” Sutter added in to the short silence that followed. “She was not pleased at being picked up by the Watch.”
The stall holder who had handed the first forged coin to the Ageless. Thea didn’t recognise the name, but then there were a lot of stall holders across the city’s markets, and she knew only some of them by sight and fewer by name.
“I’d like to speak to her,” Thea said.
“And isn’t there a man with a Watch tag to be found?” Ware asked.
“Yes. Watchman Hobbs has organised a search,” Thea told him.
“Hobbs? Oh. Algar’s nephew. Yes. Well, he’s as good as his uncle, so if the man’s to be found, he’ll be found,” Sutter said.
“And he left something behind,” Thea said, remembering the blade that had been thrown at her. “There should b
e a knife on the ground somewhere.”
“A knife?” Dina’s brows rose.
“Yes, he threw it at me,” Thea said absently, most of her attention on the ground outside the ruined house.
“And you’re just remembering this now?” Dina asked, starting a search of her own, eyes on the ground.
“I’ve been busy,” Thea said, her colour rising.
“Youth,” Dina said, shaking her head slightly, then stopping. “Is this it?”
Thea crossed to the examiner’s side and saw a long-bladed knife tucked into the grass.
“Yes. Unless he made a habit of throwing knives,” she added, crouching down with Dina to get a better look.
“I’d call that a dagger more than a knife,” Dina said. “It’s shaped for throwing. See the way the handle is weighted?”
“Yes.” Thea’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the weapon. And it was definitely a weapon. Not a domestic knife. “I suppose if he had the skill to make coins, he probably has the skill to make weapons.”
“They are quite different,” Dina pointed out. “It takes practice and skill to get this good.” She drew a cloth from her pocket and picked the knife up, coming to her feet and holding the weapon up. “This is quite old. And recently sharpened.”
“It looks about the right shape to have made the wound on Delilah Soames,” Iason commented. “We can check that at the mortuary.”
“Good,” Ware said, in a heavy voice that suggested it was anything but.
“A metal worker would have the strength to push a blade through bone,” Thea said, feeling sick. It seemed that the runaway might have a greater crime to answer for than forging the Archon’s coins. Greater in Thea’s eyes, anyway. She was quite sure the Ageless would not agree.
There was a short silence, everyone staring at the knife in Dina’s hand, before Ware took a breath, straightening his shoulders.
“There’s work to do. If you and Sutter question the stall holder, I’ll get in touch with Commander Reardon,” Ware said to Thea. “Mage, you’re welcome to join us.”
“Thank you,” Niath said, inclining his head. He glanced down at his scorched robes. “I wonder if this will be a help or hindrance to the questioning?”
False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2 Page 18
