A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1)

by REEVE, LAURA E.

  That’s the difference between you and me, Jan. My life, and my son’s life, are not games. Aloud, she said, “No, these were professionals. I had to kill one of them. That might not mean much to you, but it does to me, even if he was nunetton. Especially when his body showed up in the canals bearing the mark of Haversar.”

  Something flickered in his face, too quick to assess, when she spoke that name. Haversar: a name rarely mentioned between them. A name one always avoided speaking when on the streets. No one else within the Guard, except Draius, knew the history between Haversar and Jan. And very few in the sister cities knew that Jan saved a friend from drowning when they were both only eight years old, a friend who eventually dropped his connections to family and lineage, became nunetton, and took the anonymous name of Haversar.

  “So? You got rid of some canal scum.” Jan flicked his fingers dismissively.

  “I know Haversar owes you life-debt.”

  “Are you accusing me of being involved in the attack?” He exploded off the chair, but she was ready. Another part of the game: react violently, suddenly, and make her back down.

  She held her ground. “Those men had weapons training, as well as a new musket from some Guard armory. The captain is trying his best to ignore those facts because he hopes there’s no Guard involvement.”

  “The captain’s focused on the murders, as you should be.” Jan calmed down in a heartbeat, performing the seesaw of emotions that used to bewilder her. His mouth twisted in a sneer. “You don’t think the captain expects you to succeed, do you? Can’t you see that you’re fated to be nothing more than a sacrifice to public opinion, someone to blame?”

  She paused, but she didn’t take the bait and become sidetracked. Stepping away from the doorjamb, she started pacing the woven carpet. “Not everything revolves about my case, and that’s where I made my mistake. I first assumed the focus of the attack was me, but these men were more intent on harming Lornis.”

  “They were thieves. Of course they went for the man first, that’s how they operate.”

  “They weren’t common thieves. Thieves don’t jump City Guard members openly on the streets. Thieves use knives, not swords, and they try to rob you. That’s the whole point for them. No, these were hired killers and they were after Lornis, not me.”

  He was too good at controlling his reactions—she couldn’t tell if she hit the mark.

  “Why’d you do it, Jan?” Her tone was cool and measured. When she finally put everything together, her anger burned. By now, it was restrained, manageable, a tool to be used. She’d learned from her husband and now, above all, she needed to maintain control. “What did you tell Haversar? Of course, your hands were never sullied by any arrangements and I’m sure you only intended to frighten, not harm me.”

  “You sound as hysterical as the H&H. Why not accuse me of being a Groygan spy, too?”

  “I already know the answers.” She continued on, ignoring his words. “Why? First, this attack would impress upon Lady Anja how much danger I’m in, and how risky my position as OIC of Investigation can be. If I was scared by it, that’d be an additional reward, but this was mostly for Anja’s benefit.”

  She watched his face. No reaction. She continued. “Second, it’d make me appear incompetent. If the captain could be convinced to remove me, or even if I resigned my position as OIC, another bonus for you. Third, when Lornis was gone—”

  “Are you accusing me of jealousy?”

  “No. Unfortunately, I know you.” Her tone was bleak. “With Lornis out of the picture, there’s one less officer with the experience to compete for the positions you crave.”

  He didn’t answer.

  She didn’t mention there had been a flaw in Jan’s plan, but not due to poor logic or execution. He couldn’t know that Lornis had a special fate, predicted by the Phrenii. He couldn’t know the captain was committed to keeping Lornis alive, as well as keeping Lornis in the City Guard.

  If she were facing anyone else, her accusations might be absurd. But this was Jan, who destroyed the careers of others, who exploited weaknesses until lives were in ruin. She remembered Kapeli. Poor Kapeli, who’d ended his life due to shame and an incredible gambling debt, all arranged and exploited by her husband. Kapeli had been nice enough; too bad he had been promoted at Jan’s expense…

  “Is attempted murder now another one of your tools? Your—” She stopped. Swallowed hard. She was about to say, “Your morals have become skewed.” But what about hers? Little by little, she’d watched and accepted Jan’s moral slips, sometimes even justifying them. Darkness had crept up on her and she’d slid into the morass herself, where she could think like Jan and easily put attempted murder into his perspective.

  Outside, the light patter of spring rain started. Jan stood and closed the window while she felt paralyzed, her thoughts racing.

  “This is all supposition,” he said. “Would you drag these accusations out into public and sully the Serasa-Kolme? Do you want Peri to see his father brought before magistrates, based upon his mother’s unwarranted suspicions?”

  She leaned against the wall, feeling the familiar nausea of defeat. They knew each other so well. He knew she’d considered all options and had already decided against public action. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be confronting him—which meant she had no higher moral ground to stand on.

  “What have I become?” she whispered. All in all, she was sure Jan hadn’t intended for anyone to die. That was an excuse for his actions; what were the excuses for hers? For doing nothing? Lornis was right when he hinted at her duality: not only did she lack competence in dealing with Jan, she also had a different moral code. Everything could be black and white when working, while her personal life was composed of many shades of gray. Now her two lives had smashed into each other.

  Jan looked uneasy. Self-recrimination was probably the last thing he’d expected from her. Lowering his voice, he said, “You’ve been under a lot of stress. With the murders and all the trash being printed in the H&H, I can see why you might have jumped to these strange conclusions — which no one would believe.”

  “I won’t—” she choked, then managed to gain control of her voice. She glared at him. “I won’t do anything publicly, for Peri’s sake, but this can be a matter for matriarchal justice.”

  Anja. The matriarch who had the power to dissolve their contract was young enough to know Jan’s background. Although Anja would probably never admit it, she knew about Haversar, and matriarchs were committed to maintain lineal honor.

  “You’re really going to end our contract? Over this?”

  “Can’t you see how serious—” She took a deep breath and started over. “You know there’s usually something that ties people together? Well, there’s nothing between us any more. No love, no loyalty, no respect, no friendship, not even a shared set of moral values. I don’t understand you, if I ever did. And I’ll never trust you again.”

  Instead of responding in kind to her emotional outburst, he calmly sat down. “True, we’ve drifted apart. But I’ve been trying. If you’d try, we could rebuild our lives.”

  “There’s no marriage, no trust, nothing but ink upon paper. What do you suggest we build upon? And will you continue to seek comfort from other women?”

  “Probably, but that’s not my fault. You’ve become colder than the ice on the Cen Cerinas mountaintops.” His dark blue eyes were level; now he was speaking the truth.

  “I am what I am because of you. I must look into my own heart, yes, but so should you. When will you admit, even to yourself, that your affair with Netta was different?”

  He shook his head. “Leave her out of this. We’re talking about us. You know that Peri, and you, belong to Serasa-Kolme.”

  You mean we belong to you. She gritted her teeth. Like possessions that, if lost, would cost him honor. But she had to remember that Anja, as a matriarch, would take the same position. The difference would be that Anja would consider Peri’s needs first. “I don’t want to
put Peri into Aracia’s hands any more than you do. But it may be in his best interest.”

  Jan’s eyes looked dead, lifeless as a corpse, making her shiver. “I’ll fight any attempt to change Peri’s name. He’s my son and he’ll join me in the Serasa-Kolme constellation.”

  Provided you can live with enough honor to reach the Stars, she thought, but this time she didn’t have wine loosening her tongue. She wouldn’t take the risk, right now, of insulting Jan’s honor.

  “You have no proof,” he added, after a pause. She knew that dangerously calm, calculating tone.

  “Anja’s not a magistrate, so I don’t need proof. I can’t let your behavior taint Peri and I think she’ll agree.” Her voice shook. “And I won’t protect you any longer. No one else will, either. Norsis already knows Haversar is involved in my attack; he just can’t fathom why. You’d better make sure that musket is never found, because it will connect you to Haversar and when that happens, I won’t do a thing to help you.”

  “I can’t be accountable for Haversar—”

  She stopped him with a chopping motion of her hand. “I won’t listen to any more protests, because even you can’t tell when you’re speaking the truth any more. And, Ancestors forgive me, I won’t say anything about this to the captain, although you’ve changed our cities by giving criminals powder guns.”

  “I didn’t do that.” Jan’s answer was automatic and had a small ring of truth, but she no longer cared. She opened the door, her form making a long, thin shadow into the hallway.

  She paused and turned back. “This could be for the best. This will free you to be with Netta.”

  “Netta hasn’t been able to have a child.” An emotion flickered quickly over Jan’s face. Concern? Pain? Who would know? She’d never seen true emotions from him, not even in the beginning of their marriage.

  “Goodbye, Jan.” She closed the door and stumbled down the hall. She didn’t expect him to follow, and he didn’t. She left the officer barracks as fast as she could.

  Outside, the light rain had stopped. The air smelled clean, purified of smoke and soot. Her chest tightened as she strode down the gaslit street, avoiding people who were taking their evening walks and enjoying the mild weather. After passing a man and woman strolling arm-in-arm, chattering to each other, she withdrew into an alley and leaned against the cold stone. Her body tried to sob, her chest heaved and her throat constricted, but she couldn’t cry. She hadn’t had true tears since… She hadn’t cried since her mother’s death.

  There was no sense grieving the loss of something she’d never possessed. When she started walking again, she moved slowly, feeling old and infirm. Her shoulder throbbed. She craved warmth, so she headed toward light, food, and friends.

  chapter Twenty-Eight

  Safe Passage

  In this hermitage, Sorceress-Apprentice Lahna tries to teach us elemental magic and searches for answers. Why can we no longer reach the Void? The Void sits high above the world, and is the source of elemental magic. Between the Void and the solid world is the Blindness: the realm of dreamers and monsters. We can still wander the Blindness but since Cessina’s death and the breaking of the Kaskea, no one can reach the Void, save he who is bound to the Phrenii.

  —Meran-Nelja Pilas, tentatively dated T.Y. 1048

  “By the Horn, I need a beer.” Draius lowered herself gingerly into one of the Sea Serpent’s chairs.

  Berin’s rumble could be heard throughout the common room. Patrons at nearby tables turned and looked, maybe wondering whether the sound was laughter, or something more ominous. Although she hadn’t expected to find Berin and Wendell at the pub on a Millday evening, she was grateful to see their faces.

  “You look worse than I imagined,” Berin said. “The H&H didn’t exaggerate that attack. No wonder you’re swearing.”

  “Are you well, Draius?” Wendell poured her a glass of ale from their pitcher, his hand shaking a bit. He slid it over to her and she took a sip. The ale was stronger than the lager she intended to order, but at this point she didn’t care.

  “I’m doing better than you, it would seem.” She noted Wendell’s pallor. He was also sweating, as if he burned with a fever. Her lips parted to ask him about his visit to her office but his eyes widened in alarm, like a trapped animal facing a predator.

  She paused and Wendell quickly picked up the conversation. “I feel fine. I’m more concerned about your health and welfare.”

  “My health is fine, my welfare is—well, that’s a different story.” Draius sighed.

  “More ale!” roared Berin. The order bounced off the back wall and reverberated around the room.

  As if everything could be solved by more ale, more lager, or more wine… Berin was lucky to have a simple life, and such a loyal friend and employee in Wendell. She raised her glass for another sip, while she looked at Berin’s assistant. Quiet, efficient Wendell. Always staying in the background. To her surprise, he was one of her distant cousins. Wendell’s birth had been marked as an outgoing asset of the offshoot Meran-Nelja line in Aracia’s records.

  “So you’re tired of being chased around by thugs.” Berin’s voice boomed and carried through the room, and when Draius didn’t respond, he tried, “Or, perhaps, this is about Jan. What’s that ambitious manipulator done now?”

  She winced. Although her old friend was surprisingly perceptive, he didn’t understand the complexities involved. He wasn’t a man who could see shades of gray and he’d never been subtle in his support. She remembered his enthusiastic cheering when she won the Cavalry Seat Horsemanship competition at the age of sixteen. Her father had been too busy to attend, but Berin had managed. She’d been both embarrassed and grateful for his loud support then—and she felt both those feelings now. But she could never tell Berin everything about her husband. Would she even be able to tell Anja?

  “You’re already tracking backwards down the trail, aren’t you? Changing your mind?” Berin’s voice became deeper in a futile attempt to be quiet.

  She glanced at him, startled. She had been wavering about carrying through her threats.

  “I know you, girl.” He pointed a beefy finger in her face. “You came in here full of resolve, didn’t you? Now you’re starting to justify his actions, and making excuses.”

  “So first I’m a woman, but now I’m a girl? I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Hmm. So, how’s your lieutenant?” Berin quickly changed the subject, knowing just how far to push her before pulling back.

  “Lornis appears healthy enough after the phrenic healing. The physician says he can start working in a day or two.”

  “Amazing,” Berin said in a sour tone. “He was almost dead a couple days ago. Just think what our physicians could do with the knowledge locked up in those creatures.”

  She frowned. Berin’s viewpoints about the Phrenii were not uncommon—one only had to look at the letters to the H&H to find others with the same opinions—but she wasn’t in the mood to listen to him this evening.

  “It’s not the Phrenii’s fault that they can’t teach our physicians,” she said. “They say mankind can’t work without pictures, but they never think in pictures.”

  “Five creatures can’t take care of an entire country of people. We learned this, to our detriment, during the Fevers. If they could train our hundreds of physicians—”

  “Since their methods are magical, how can mankind learn them? For Lornis, at least, we should be grateful they have such methods! The Guard nearly lost a most valuable man—” She stopped. Even on this subject, she now held secrets. The captain said no one else could be told about Jhari’s foretelling.

  Berin cocked his head. When she didn’t continue, he sat back and sighed.

  “Look, let’s not hash over one of the oldest arguments in history. Instead, let’s hope your lieutenant has some spine left after the healing, so he doesn’t burst into tears at the sight of a criminal.”

  She didn’t answer. When did Lornis become her lieutenan
t? As if he’d become her responsibility. That hit a tender nerve, since she was responsible for the attack, in a way. She stared into her glass, watching a tiny bubble at the bottom slowly lose hold and lazily float to the top. She realized how tired she was, and how emotionally drained. There was no spark of energy or committment left within her.

  Silence reigned at their table. Berin took a deep pull at his ale, and then held his empty glass up, sighing.

  “Where is that girl?” Grumbling, he got up. Berin stopped the serving girl at the counter, where he started berating her, at top volume, on the quality of service. This time it wasn’t Raivata serving them, but a docile, round-faced girl who looked more suited to the farm than the pub.

  Wendell had stayed quiet, but after Berin left the table he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “Draius, you must be very careful.” His mouth twitched and his eyes had a feverish intensity.

  “Of course.”

  “I mean you must be wary of everyone. It would be best if you found a different job.”

  “Is that why you came to the office? To give me warning?” She moved her arm away from his hand, and saw a flash of fear go through his eyes before he deliberately looked away.

  “I only stopped by to check on your health.” Wendell looked down, withdrawing as Berin came back to the table carrying a pitcher of ale.

  “I’m going to have a talk with Mainos about that girl,” Berin said.

  “Unfortunately, I must say good night. I’m still fighting a chill.” Wendell got up and bowed, before putting on his cloak and taking his leave.

  Draius watched him go while sipping her drink. “How long have you known Wendell?”

  “He’s worked for me several years now. Hired him after you and Jan left for Betarr Kain.”

  “Did you know him before that?”

  Berin’s forehead wrinkled while he stroked his beard. “I guess not. We were introduced through a mutual friend.”