City of Broken Magic

by Mirah Bolender

  The policeman looked highly embarrassed. “Please don’t mind the chief,” he muttered. “We’ve had a number of calls today and she’s a little stressed.”

  “Pleasant as always, Chief Albright!” Clae called.

  He gave a slight, mocking bow, holding his briefcase out to the side. The chief’s eyes narrowed further. The little nameplate under her badge did, indeed, wink H. ALBRIGHT, just as the policeman’s read W. BAXTER.

  “I’m not willing to deal with your sass today, Sinclair,” she retorted. “Just take care of this and get the hell out.”

  “Of course.”

  As Clae strode toward the building, Laura asked, “You know her?”

  “Police of a certain rank have to deal with Sweepers, so they’re required to do patrol with us,” Clae explained. “She and a group tagged along with me last year, before she was promoted.”

  “She’s only been police chief about as long as I’ve been apprentice, right? Three months?”

  “Sounds right. I’d say she’s got more experience than you, but it isn’t by much.”

  Laura pursed her lips as she watched Albright moving more police into position, quelling any arguments as the onlookers were shuffled away. “She seems to have settled into it already.”

  “They’ve debriefed her on the situation, so she knows how to carry it out.”

  Ah, the situation. The situation was laughable.

  Laura turned her gaze on the building as well. The house in question appeared nearly identical to all the others on this row. They were tall and thin, like dominoes stacked side to side, and their gently sloping roofs came within inches of brushing their neighbors’. Every roof had dark shingles, but homeowners added their unique flair in the color of siding and trim, this one being pale blue. Three ornate windows lined the front, all of them blocked. A dresser was pushed up against one with drawers facing out, a table’s surface was against another with a fabric table runner stuck between, and the last had curtains drawn but something pressed up behind it. The cellar door was in a dip next to the stairs, seemingly harmless.

  “What do we do with Mr. Two-Months?” Laura asked, pleased when her nervousness didn’t show in her tone.

  “We can’t break in through the cellar. One person already got through, so it’s probably most wary of that. Front door is too obvious. They’ve learned about front doors. Back doors, too. Not that this district even has back doors. Design flaw, really. It’s 1233, you’d think they’d have done something about that.”

  “The Collective knows about the doors, you mean?”

  “Collective, hive, whatever.” He looked sideways at her, apparently judging now to be an opportune quiz time. “Considering the hive mind. What to remember?”

  “It’s not particularly smart, but it picks up on routines,” Laura recited. “If Sweepers use the same tactics enough times in a row, it learns to expect that. Since the hive mind shares its knowledge with its offspring, all the monsters will start operating on that information. The further south you get the smarter they are, because they’re closer to the hive mind and it’s easier to communicate. Being in southern Terual, Amicae is close enough to the source for the creature to be more dangerous, but not so much the intelligent breed of the far south, Zyra.”

  “You sound like a textbook.”

  “It’s right, isn’t it?”

  “Correct.” His voice fell flat and bored. “This creature was created by the indigenous kingdom,” he prompted.

  “Created as an anti-magic defense against invading kingdoms during the high age of magic. They lost control of it, and the monsters destroyed the creators and spread northward.”

  “Textbook,” he repeated. “I’m not teaching you for a test. Parroting a book at me isn’t going to help you fight these things.”

  “So long as I can act on the information, what do you care?” Laura challenged, crossing her arms.

  “Hettie was book smart but couldn’t apply the information. Froze up. Got eaten. I’m not having another apprentice go the same route. We lose far too many people to these monsters.”

  People including the last police chief.

  Laura backed down, uneasy. “You’re the one assigning tests in front of an infestation. Let’s go beyond the books and backstory. What are we doing with it?”

  “The unpredictable, to confuse the hive mind.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “My guess is the chimney.”

  “Are we going to use it like a Pit?”

  “It’s probably sealed off at the bottom since this Quarter has been converted to central heating, but we can still get it. A chimney here is near twenty feet. We can jump down. It won’t expect that.”

  Laura leaned back and glared at his impassive face.

  “Twenty feet.” She was sure her voice carried her indignation.

  “Yes,” he replied, like he didn’t see a problem.

  “You’re expecting me to jump twenty feet down a chimney shaft, into the lair of a monster.”

  “You, certainly not. I’ll take care of this one. Stay back with the police. Maybe if you’re with them you can impart some semblance of sense.” He turned and walked back toward the police, barking something about a ladder.

  There were no ladders nearby, and with all of the neighbors evacuated to another location it wasn’t viable to ask them for help. After some haggling, Chief Albright called in one of the heavy-duty robots. The bot was nearly as tall as the house, even in its permanent hunched position. Its eight arms moved fluidly, always shifting in movements that made Laura think of spiders. She hated these things. She kind of understood that the drive mechanics had to replicate the human form—something about the human body being the most perfect of all machines, she’d heard her neighbor ramble about that before—but never understood why they pursued it when the outcome looked either unnervingly fake or downright creepy.

  The robot rolled in close to the building, mechanical hands looping around to skim the stairs, the doorknob, the gate. Judging by the dust and the amount of smashed brick it carried in the metal basket on its back, it must’ve been helping with some demolition site. They all looked up at it, and Laura shuddered at the sight.

  “Will that do?” Baxter muttered, dubious.

  “It better,” Albright grumbled.

  “It will,” Clae assured them.

  He deposited the briefcase on the ground, planted his foot on one of the wheel spokes, and pulled himself up. Now off the ground, he pulled his bandana over his mouth and nose and fished a set of goggles out of his coat pocket. Once they were secured, he looked back, eyeing Laura in particular.

  “Keep an eye on things out here. I doubt it’ll make a break for it, but you can’t always apply logic to monsters.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need backup in there?”

  “You don’t have proper protection. We haven’t gotten that kin-treated equipment for you yet. You’re as good as a sitting duck.”

  The bandana around Laura’s neck was saturated with kin, but it was just a scrap of cloth. She suspected it would do her no good in this situation.

  “Next time, though?”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “What should I do if I see anything happening?”

  “Your instincts are good. Follow them.”

  Because that made so much sense.

  Clae turned, grabbed hold of the trash container on the robot’s back, and heaved himself higher. A series of bumps mimicking a spine provided footholds on his way up. He balanced at the top, wavering on the robot’s head and judging the distance before taking a leap. He soared and landed soundlessly on the shingles. He must’ve activated the magic-producing amulets in his boots. Pausing a moment, he turned and gave a thumbs-up. A policewoman waited on the other side of the robot, elbows deep in a control panel. As she made a twisting motion, one of the robot’s limbs moved, scooping up the briefcase and bearing it to the roof. Clae retrieved it and crept away, disappearing from sight
.

  Laura shifted her footing and looked around at the gathered people. Even without the excuse of shepherding a civilian crowd, their police squad stayed several houses away, watching the house as if afraid it would explode at any moment. Only one seemed interested in getting closer: a young woman in an ill-fitting uniform, who stepped slowly forward. Laura tried to wave her back again, but only caught her attention.

  “He’s going in?” the woman whispered. “I thought a mob hit would mean the po—we would go in first.”

  No wonder she was sneaking closer. She wasn’t aware of the situation. Laura had been under the impression that police had it drilled into them from day one, but on second thought, a new recruit might spill the secret, believing they were doing the right thing.

  “Your squad hasn’t filled you in yet?” said Laura.

  “I—A little.” The woman stuck her hands in her pockets, as if tempted to pull something out. “You’re … Sweepers?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re the spiritual successors to the MARU? You tackle mob business?”

  “Something like that.” Laura wanted to say more—always had—but contracts were a damnable thing. She could hint at the bigger problem, though. “You’re aware of infestations, right?”

  The policewoman looked lost. “Like rats?”

  “No, like—” Laura shot a glance at the chief, judged Albright far enough away. “I mean monsters.”

  It took a moment for the implication to set in, and the woman’s eyes widened. “Wait, a monster? There’s one in—”

  “That’s why we’re going in first. Don’t worry.” Laura threw on her most cinema-star smile, hoping she was convincing. “My boss is an expert.”

  A thunk from the roof caught her attention and she whipped around. More sounds reached her ears; was the creature trying to get out? But it wouldn’t. Leaving the house meant facing sunlight, and sunlight burned … but it wasn’t perfect repellent.

  “What was that?” the policewoman squeaked. “You don’t think it’s—”

  “It’s fine,” Laura assured her, but wasn’t too sure herself. “I’m going in to check it out. You head back to the group, right? If we need help we’ll shout.”

  It wasn’t the initial plan, but better to move in and understand what was going on than get caught by surprise, right? Laura pulled her own bandana up, goggles down, and the world was tinged slightly orange. She climbed the robot, clinging to the trash container and the bumps on its back. It was hot from the sun and her hands stung, but she gritted her teeth and kept on until she pulled herself onto the robot’s shoulders.

  She could see Clae kneeling by the chimney, fussing with it while the briefcase lay open nearby. Nothing looked wrong. Did he make the noise on purpose? It could be something she didn’t know about yet, something routine on big infestations. She’d only dealt with small ones and training exercises, so didn’t know whether to worry or not. She glanced down, noticed the drop, and snapped her head up. Climbing up had been manageable but she hadn’t thought of how to climb down. She wavered a moment before deciding, hell with it, she’d tag along with Clae anyway. She’d never be a good Sweeper if all she did was sit on the sidelines.

  An amulet of her own was clipped to Laura’s belt: a pale gray circle the size of her palm, round and curved outward with simple line carvings to form a smiling downturned face. One tap and a silent command activated its magic, and she felt a faint echo from the smaller amulets in her shoes. While she hadn’t been on a lot of infestation jobs, she had enough practice with the amulets that it was almost effortless to jump, gravity halved, using the robot’s still-raised hand as a stepping-stone to reach the roof. The click of her heels on the shingles was quiet but still noticeable, and Clae looked around.

  “The duckling’s here to wing it, I see. Didn’t I tell you to stay down there?” he scolded, but with no real force. Maybe that had actually been a test to see if she would follow. He’d sprung stranger ones before.

  “I heard noise. Is this some kind of routine you didn’t talk about before? Because I was pretty sure we were supposed to be silent.”

  “I was testing,” Clae explained. “Seeing how nasty this infestation is. I think we’ve got an introvert on our hands.”

  “Introvert?”

  “It’s shifting down there, but not reacting otherwise. Either it’s digesting or it’s just shy. They’re rare, but introverts exist. Shouldn’t be as hard to root it out, either way. Meals slow them down too.”

  “Great. Still doing the chimney plan?”

  “Naturally.”

  Laura sighed. She tapped the amulet on her belt again, giving a new order, and the magic shifted so she could walk more easily—the roof slanted toward the neighboring house, so without magic she’d have to crouch and shuffle to keep from falling. Despite her using three amulets at once, they worked in unison and could only handle one specific instruction at a time, so as she tiptoed to the other side of the roof her feet made more noise than the initial landing. The chimney wasn’t a big structure, jutting a foot up at its deepest side and made of white-painted brick. Some sort of metal covered the top.

  “Is this the seal you meant?”

  “The chimney’s likely blocked down at the bottom too.”

  “How are we going to get through it?”

  “We’ll remove this and check out how it’s stopped up below.”

  Clae pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket. He frowned at the screws and fit the tool into the grooves. It wasn’t the right size and on a few twists it lost its grip and skipped right over into the next groove, but Clae was determined and he worked fast. It wasn’t long before the first screw was out and rolling down the roof. Laura didn’t bother to catch it, so it dropped away between the houses.

  “So, where did it come from?”

  Laura was surprised for a moment, and gestured down at the house below. “It? Well, it got into an amulet. That’s where they grow.”

  “Yes, but where did this broken amulet come from? What type of family lived here?”

  “Second Quarter, obviously. Pretty wealthy. As far as I can tell, no one important. Why?”

  “We need to rule out the possibility of murder.”

  This being the source of the “mob business” the policewoman had mentioned. Things like this one were sometimes planted in houses to assassinate the residents. It wasn’t nearly as common as the Council liked people to believe, though.

  “For all we know, they could’ve had jealous neighbors.”

  “Would this family use amulets, be able to afford the upkeep? Would there be one in their house?”

  “I don’t think so.” Laura glanced at the rest of the street and the neighboring ones, all the same with thin houses in row upon row. “There can be much bigger houses in Second Quarter. Someone wealthy enough to own amulets would probably be in one of those. Since it’s near the outer wall this is a lower district, so amulets aren’t so common.”

  “It’s true. Magic users, even in the higher districts, tend to be closer to the inside wall and the First Quarter.” He focused on the next screw.

  “So in this lower district, amulets aren’t common. One wouldn’t be in their house. Why do we need to know this?”

  “Because amulets can be obvious, and if the family didn’t own an amulet, the killer wouldn’t set one in plain sight. Judging by the average design of the houses here, the fireplace will be very big, very open, very obvious, so the amulet won’t be sitting there. We won’t be dropping right on top of it or risk breaking it further by jumping down.”

  Clae removed the last screw and gingerly moved the cover, setting it down atop the briefcase so it rested against the chimney and ran no risk of falling. Clae peered down the chimney. Peeking around him, Laura could only see darkness.

  “We’re seriously jumping down there?”

  “Just activate the belt and boots.”

  “I hear chimney sweeps get stuck in chimneys, and those are
just kids.”

  “Far as I can see, this one’s big enough if we go down straight.”

  He climbed onto the edge of the chimney and gave her a short, mocking salute. Before she could comprehend what he was doing, he hopped into the air and did a pencil dive right down into it.

  “Clae!” She grabbed the edge of the chimney and leaned over, trying to see if he was okay.

  A thunk came from below. Laura flinched.

  “Clae?”

  “Shush.”

  Well, he sounded okay. Laura crouched farther down, wrinkling her nose as she eyed what little she could see of his dusty brown coat.

  “How is it?”

  “Brick,” he replied quietly. Laura could barely hear it. “We’ll have to force our way through.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ll take care of it. Just grab the drill from the case.”

  Laura searched through the strange devices inside the briefcase. She made a mental note to ask what some were, but she did recognize a portable drill. She pulled it out, checked that it worked, then leaned over the opening.

  “How should I get it down?” She glanced at the toolbox. “Is that wire okay? Can I lower it with that?”

  There was silence from Clae’s end. Laura began to think he’d heard the monster down there, but he replied, “Sure. Just be careful with it or you’ll get stung.”

  Laura pulled out the wire and unwound it. The material was metallic gray, somewhat malleable. She wrapped it around the drill, using multiple angles in the hope it would hold better. When she tied a knot it sparked. It wasn’t painful, but still a surprising sting. She cursed the mutinous equipment as she tied it tighter, then leaned over the chimney and began to lower it. Every time it dipped farther down, the knot glowed red, fading just in time for it to duck deeper again. There was movement on the line as he caught it and undid the knot (though not without some faint cursing as it stung his fingers too).

  “Right, you can bring that back up.”

  Laura reeled the wire in, wrapping it around her hand and setting it aside. From below she heard a faint, grating, whirring sound. He’d started drilling. She settled herself on the roof, ready to wait awhile.