Norsis had the body loaded on a stretcher and carried out to the coroner’s wagon that waited outside. She followed him outside and stood on the creaking, weathered stairs to the office. Lornis stood beside the steps, blinking, his eyes watering. He wouldn’t have been the first to lose his stomach contents at this scene, but she hoped he’d been discreet.
There was commotion on the other side of the wagon. A watchman dragged Andreas, editor of the H&H, over to stand in front of Draius.
“He tried to get a look at the body, ser.”
Andreas sputtered and his shirtsleeve had come untied while he struggled against the City Guard that outweighed him by a couple of stones. The editor was short and obviously not acquainted with physical exercise.
“I have a right to give the public information about this murder.” Andreas squirmed in the Guard’s grip, his face red.
“Yes, you do,” she replied, motioning to the Guard to release the editor.
Mollified, Andreas straightened his clothes. “Then I can look inside the office?”
“No. While you can publish anything you want, you’re not allowed access to the body or the murder scene. You can apply for a copy of the coroner’s report down at Headquarters. That is proper written procedure, under the King’s Law.” She raised her voice to ride over his protests.
“Can you at least give me a statement, Officer Draius?” Andreas’s tone was sullen.
“This is our statement: The City Guard is following several leads, but we cannot yet reveal our suspicions.”
The editor snickered. “And the connection between the two murders?”
“No comment.”
“Any use of magic?”
“No. That’s ridiculous.”
“Was he gutted like the councilman? Left inside a locked room?” He was coatless and tugged on his vest, perhaps in unconscious memory of the watchmen’s rough handling. His sleeves were worn and stained with ink. At one time Andreas employed several tailors, but he no longer had the funds to stay on the cutting edge of fashion.
“No comment. You’ll have to look at the reports when they’re released.”
“That’ll be days from now. Erik used to give me exclusive information.”
“I doubt it,” she said. “If that were true, you shouldn’t have killed his career.”
“I’m flattered that you attribute such power to me, Officer Draius, but Erik was responsible for the decline of his own reputation. I merely printed the facts.”
Privately, she agreed that Erik caused his own fate, but she was in the mood to cut down Andreas. “Well, we’ll see how long you can afford to print your facts. How deep are your pockets, or should I ask how deep do your lineal funds run?”
Instead of having the desired effect, Andreas grinned at her spiteful words. “I’ll be here a while. I’ve found patrons. The bookseller I recently mentioned has been besieged by customers and she’s willing to pay for more attention. Other merchants may follow.”
“Where is your truth, then, if it is paid for?” she asked.
Andreas only shrugged. “About the body—”
“Escort him out of here.” She summarily gestured to the Guards. Andreas gave her a resentful look as the two burly City Guard trotted him down the street and to a bridge that led away from the docks.
“Are you sure that was wise?” Lornis asked in a quiet undertone, leaning toward her. His breath was acrid from vomit.
Draius suddenly felt oppressed; everywhere she turned, she was hemmed in by the smell of vomit, blood, or canal water stinking of decay. She rubbed her temples. “It’s best if Andreas thinks we’re incompetent. I want the guilty parties to feel they have us stumped.”
“Are we stumped?” At least his eyes were looking bright again.
“No. At least, I’ll never admit that. Come on, let’s go through the rest of the office.”
They skimmed through the documents and found nothing unusual in the cargo declarations and shipping manifests, but they didn’t have experience in shipping, importing, or exporting. In case they missed something important, she closed off the office with a seal of the King’s Law. Besides, it might flush out the next of kin who’d need to remove the seal.
Outside, she glanced at the low sun. “Ready for an early supper?”
“I don’t think so.” Lornis looked uneasy. “I never thought I’d ever say this, but I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll get used to it.” She pulled out her spring watch, one of the few expensive gifts from her father that she’d kept. The time was five hours past noon. “It’s too late to examine the rooms at the Sea Serpent; the evening crowd is starting. Let’s make a stop by the Royal Library and save the pub for tomorrow.”
It was time to do a little research on a long-dead sorcerer named Nherissa.
•••
Draius turned the bound sheet of parchment, which was in surprisingly good condition. She had directly gone to the section titled “ERA FOUR: In which Tyrran expansion and control of the mapped world rises, while her sorcerers dwindle.” In the shelves marked for Cessina there were few documents, and these were the only pages she found that referred to Nherissa.
I write this entry tonight with a heavy heart. Based upon these notes I’ve read, I’m convinced Nherissa has become so embroiled in this evil art that he cannot be saved. I cautioned him, specifically, against this line of study.
“The dead do not give up their secrets lightly,” I told him. “You might not want to pay their price.”
He laughed at me. “Don’t you wonder why the Phrenii hide the death magic from us? Perhaps this is a way to spur talent in mankind.”
Draius shivered from the cold draft that went through the cavernous marble library, raising scents of old leather, parchment, and linen. Where was Lornis? A sign said they should ask the Royal Librarian for assistance and she’d sent Lornis to do exactly that. She didn’t expect to find any documents or papers by Nherissa himself, since all those materials had been destroyed long ago, but there should be plenty of notes left by Cessina.
Looking back down the aisle of shelves to the center of the library, she saw a few students hunched over their studies and wearing cloaks against the chill. This library was maintained through royal grants and she supposed those grants included private Meran-Viisi funding as well, but that wasn’t her business.
The pages were written in blocked handwriting because the inks of that era required slow, methodical lettering, and careful blotting. She continued reading.
I know Nherissa is obsessed by the loss of our magical talents. I am also concerned, because I am rarely able to walk the Void any more.
“How long since you’ve seen a child with talent, with the ability to touch the Void?” Nherissa asked me. “You and I may be the last living men who can use elemental magic from that realm.”
I didn’t tell him I had found a child with a small amount of talent, because I had no intention of exposing her to him.
“There are still those with the Sight,” I said.
“The Sight! You think to rely upon the dreams of those who stumble about the Blindness? Might as well depend upon the ramblings of old women,” he scoffed.
“Mankind might not be meant to have elemental magic.” I spoke from my own fears, from dreams that showed me mankind would suffer greatly before any man or woman held talent again.
At my words, Nherissa became incensed. “Why should the Phrenii alone be able to use the elements? Why should they be set above mankind, when they are nothing? They are only portals. While we are real, they are merely starlight and dust.”
After that conversation, I watched his jealousy of the Phrenii grow. I followed his work as closely as I could, and his experiments began to take an alarming turn. First he attempted to coerce secrets from the dead, using large amounts of animal and human blood with his incantations.
With the mention of blood, Draius paid more attention.
Then he discovered that torture and death have p
ower. What followed were more heinous acts, such as torturing animals and humans in ceremonies to bind that power into objects.
His research has progressed to evil conclusions. I have read his notes and, by his own words and hand, Nherissa has shown himself.
There was no more in Cessina’s hand, but all Tyrrans knew the explosive conclusion. At the bottom of the page, other handwriting caught her eye. It was darker, written with modern ink in a running style. Draius squinted to read the small letters.
“Necromancy,” she read, “was first formed as Nherissa’s attempt to communicate with the dead. He expanded it into a mechanism for collecting power, but collection must be done carefully, so as to protect the practitioner. See Nherissa’s notes, Year 180 of the Sixth Era, O.C.”
She frowned. How could Nherissa’s notes be cross-referenced in modern script when they were all destroyed after his death? Hearing footsteps, she stepped out from the scroll and loose paper archival storage. Lornis and the Royal Librarian were coming down the hall. Lornis walked with a cat-like, graceful step. He slipped through the air currents untouched, while the librarian’s green robes billowed. On the librarian’s chest was embroidered a candle, the Tyrran symbol for wisdom. Around the walls of the library assistants were lighting the gas, as the building had been recently modernized.
“Greetings, Officer Draius. I am Nokka, at your service.”
“Greetings. We’ll need your assistance, ser, in examining archival manuscripts—” she did a quick calculation, looking down at the scribbled note on the bottom of the page in her hand, “Around year 930, by the New Calendar.”
There was silence. She looked up. Lornis had an odd look on his face, while Nokka’s face twitched with anger and wariness.
“It appears there was a robbery,” Lornis said.
“When?”
“Last summer, around Erin Six. The archives. It was a staggering loss—those items were donated by the Meran-Viisi eras ago.” Nokka’s mustache twitched with a life of its own.
“This good ser thought we were following up on his report, which he made to the Office of Investigation.” Lornis raised his eyebrows and when she glanced down at the reference she held, he added, “There’s no inventory of the missing items, although they’re sure that none of Cessina’s materials were taken.”
She chewed her lip thoughtfully, noting the puzzlement in Lornis’s eyes.
“I’ve received no response from the City Guard since the robbery and it’s almost been a year.” Nokka’s outrage was obvious in his tone, as well as his mustache. Erin Six would be at the beginning of last summer, after Erik became OIC of Investigation and insisting on handling each case himself. Even though this happened under Erik’s watch, she didn’t think Nokka cared about the distinction and she agreed. But, something was wrong here…
She held the key in her hand. This document held a recent cross-reference to Nherissa’s notes, which should notexist, not under the King’s Law. Added to this was the robbery of items the Library was loath to enumerate. Erik might have perceived these inconsistencies but probably ignored the robbery, thus avoiding a confrontation with the Royal Library and the powerful Pettaja-Viisi. Luckily, she had no compunctions about offending librarians, nor any worries about saving a professional reputation.
She made a quick bow of apology. “I’m new to my job, and I apologize for failing to look over the current case load. The recent murders have taken all my attention, to the detriment of current investigations.”
“Of course, the murder of Councilman Reggis,” Nokka said, mollified. “I must apologize also, Officer. I forgot.”
“However, you must provide an inventory of everything stolen from the library last year.” Her tone was suddenly clipped and commanding, using her upper-city education and intonation.
Nokka’s eyes widened. “Bu—but we don’t have such a list. I couldn’t provide it when I originally reported the robbery and—”
“Ridiculous! I’ve had the finest Meran-Viisi tutelage, and I’m well aware of the record-keeping done by the Royal Library and Archives.” She didn’t mention she sat elbow-to-elbow at afternoon lessons with the future King Perinon, while watching her older cousin Valos, another future King, struggle with his calculations at another table.
Nokka looked indecisive. Instead of the common watchman or City Guard he expected, he was faced with someone who must be Meran-Viisi, of the King’s lineage.
Draius pressed on. “I can prove Nherissa’s notes still existed, far into the New Calendar. No one would have referenced the Old Calendar until well after the year 1000.” She held up the page with the note penned in the margin.
“By the Horn, no one should be marring Cessina’s work!” Nokka reached for the paper, his face reddening, his lip and mouth working as if he were having a fit.
“I’m confiscating these.” She yanked the papers out of his reach. “If they’re not about necromancy, they’ll be returned. You’re also going to give me a detailed list of all the proscribed items you’re holding, as well as those stolen from the Library. I suspect they’re one and the same.”
“Are you suggesting the Royal Library ban works that contain heretical ideas?” Nokka’s voice sounded tense, like an overstretched mandolin string. “That would make us no better than the Sareenians. We offer the new work by Cabaran, while the Sareenians are frightened of it. If the works you refer to are offensive, well and fine—but I know the King, and the Meran-Viisi, support my efforts to keep an open library.”
“Officer Draius is referring to the King’s Law, which required the destruction of all materials concerning necromancy, or authored by Nherissa,” Lornis said.
“Oh, I suspect Nokka is quite familiar with the King’s Law.” Draius gave the librarian a tight smile.
“That is archaic law, built upon ancient superstitions, and I question your interpretation,” said Nokka. “We’re no longer a society that runs away from mere ideas, even when they conflict with our view of the soul’s sacred journey.”
Draius shook her head. “We’re investigating two murders, Nokka, both of which can be put on the doorstep of necromancy. What would have guided such butchery, other than historical papers of ideas?”
“Oh.” Nokka was taken aback. “I don’t know.”
“I have the authority, under the King’s Law, to examine your records. So, are you going to give me those lists, or do we march in front of a magistrate for a ruling on my interpretation of the edict against necromancy?”
“Well, if you’re going to resort to threats.” Nokka converted his outrage to justified huffiness. “Of course, I’ll have to report this to—”
“Report this to whomever you like,” she said.
“You’ll have to wait while I have a copy penned. I only have one list.”
“No need to make a copy. I can look over your original and memorize it.” She jerked her head sideways, trying to get him moving. Nokka looked dubious, but he went off to find one of his assistants, leaving her and Lornis alone.
“We’re going to have to go through all the closed cases,” she muttered.
“I suppose so.” Lornis spoke quietly as his eyes glanced around, in warning, at the echoing stone library. “Even I can remember there were only two open cases when you took over: the jeweler’s robbery and the councilman’s murder.”
“Three now, counting the Sareenian’s murder.” Her jaw tightened. “I want you to sit down with Usko and go through all the cases closed under Erik. He could keep me working petty crimes, away from the substantial cases, but I can’t believe he closed cases without Usko’s knowledge.”
“It’ll take time.”
“It has to be done.”
Lornis sighed. “Should we also get statements from the librarians tonight, regarding the robbery?”
“No, their memories will have drifted.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she saw Nokka coming back. “Let’s hope their statements are written and still on file.”
“Thi
s is everything that was stolen.” Nokka was holding three sheets, but he paused as a door opened across the large hall. Loud and angry voices came from the room as a small man with fuzzy, gray hair popped out. The door slammed behind him. The door’s sign, hanging from a peg, swayed and rattled. The sign read “Meeting of the Royal Academy of Science.”
“What, Taalo, kicked out again?” Nokka turned toward the small man eagerly, but Draius wasn’t about to let the librarian divert her. She snatched the sheets out of Nokka’s hand. He stroked his mustache and beard with his hand, trying to cover his frown.
She read the entries penned on the first sheet, noting such titles as “Principles Based on the Process of Necromancy,” “Binding of Power Through Death,” and “Concerning Cruelty and its Residual Magic in Tissues.” The entries were dated in New Calendar years, written toward the end of Era Four in the years 850 to 999. All of these documents should have been destroyed per King Kotiin’s edict of 998.
The dates also fit within the last part of Nherissa’s lifetime. When mankind could use magic, the lives of the practitioners—sorcerers and sorceresses—were extended. Cessina was supposed to have lived several hundred years, if records could be believed. He might even have been present at the making of the Kaskea, albeit as an apprentice.
She tallied the entries; there were twenty written works by Nherissa and Cessina identified on the first page. She read through the second page, and gasped at the short list on the third page. “These were stolen also?”
“I said we suffered a staggering loss, Officer. They took one of the shards of the Kaskea left in our keeping, though only our ancestral stars would know why. The tapestry of the last stand between Nherissa and Cessina was, of course, priceless. Irreplaceable. The same can be said for the original Meran Sword of Starlight.”
She felt a flash of anger, tinged with surprise. These artifacts were part of her heritage. She’d never considered their monetary worth. “Darkness and Fury,” she swore under her breath, then asked aloud, “Why would anyone take these?”
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 8
