“Do you know he’s Meran?”
“His lineage is Purje-Kolme, but half this city can trace their blood back to a Meran line. Why?”
“No reason. But if I were you, I’d make sure he got to a physician. You don’t want to lose a good employee.”
“No, I don’t. But I’m concerned about my long-time friend right now. I think you are in need of some entertainment. The carnival is setting up in the market square for Ringday—let me take you and Peri. It’ll get your mind off your problems.”
“Peri would enjoy that.” She smiled, remembering a younger Berin who took a gangly adolescent girl under his wing. At sixteen, she had few friends and her father, a King’s magistrate, benignly ignored her. He pulled her out of the Meran-Viisi lessons with her cousins and arranged for the best tutors that could be found in the sister cities, but they couldn’t replace a young girl’s need for family and friendship. Berin offered her that friendship without any conditions; he’d never shown any need for deeper involvement and she’d never wondered, never wanted to know, why.
When Draius came home, she found Peri and told him about the carnival on Ringday. He was so excited she worried about his concentration in his lessons and hoped Anja wouldn’t get a message from his tutor.
“I can’t wait till Ringday. Will there be magicians, will we see magic?” Peri asked.
She laughed. “The magicians you see in the carnival aren’t using real magic. Only the Phrenii can do that.”
“Then why are they called magicians?”
“They’re sleight-of-hand artists, meaning they play tricks with their quick fingers. Now you need to get ready for bed.”
Peri couldn’t go to sleep immediately, having more questions. She answered them, calmed him down, and eventually he drifted off. After that, she went downstairs and found Anja in the front parlor working at her desk with a lamp. Financial records were spread across the desk and Anja worked though columns of numbers.
The young matriarch looked up.
For a moment Draius paused in the doorway, uncertain. Then her resolve hardened. This was the right thing to do, especially for Peri. She could no longer ignore Jan’s behavior, not if she wanted to respect herself, and keep her son’s respect. In a way, she knew this moment would come ever since she sat down to the comfortable meal with Lornis, Peri, and Anja, when she had noticed the relief of Jan’s absence, before the charm started tightening… She rubbed her neck, then quietly closed the parlor doors behind her for privacy.
Anja was still waiting.
“I wish to speak with you, as matriarch for my family.”
“Of course.” Anja put aside the records and picked up a folded piece of paper: the one that, more than two eight-days ago, Draius had pushed under the doors. That formal complaint had seemed courageous at the time, but now she knew it was a cowardly postponement to the decision she had to make.
“I wish to dissolve my marriage contract.” There was nothing she could add to soften the words. Anja motioned her to a seat, which she took. Her legs felt shaky.
“Is your decision final? Is it based upon calm reason?” Anja asked. “Jan’s a stable and handsome man who cares for his son and has the resources of the Serasa-Kolme behind him.”
“He does care for Peri. But he has no sincere feelings for me, nor I for him. We will have no more children.” She’d made the biggest threat she could make to a matriarch. Anja’s eyebrows tightened. Her dark blue eyes, so similar to Jan’s, remained cool and her fingers began a slow drumming on the edge of the desk, sounding like hollow footsteps.
“Jan professes otherwise. Perhaps you need more time. The sting of betrayal and humiliation will fade eventually.”
She flushed. “I admit Jan’s last affair hurt my pride more than my heart. But there’s more involved here than betrayal. Or love lost.” To suppress the tremor in her voice, she carefully chose her words. “I don’t agree with the… approach Jan uses, in his life and in his career. He walks the edge of ethical behavior and stretches the law to suit his actions. I don’t want Peri to learn from him, or mimic him.”
Anja became still. She stared at her fingers on the edge of the desk while she asked, “Can you provide examples of inappropriate behavior, beyond his infidelities?”
Draius took a deep breath. “For his actions in Betarr Kain, I have support that would be acceptable to a magistrate. I have a letter Jan used to harass—” She might as well be honest, since she was betting her life on Anja’s response. “Actually, Jan blackmailed a fellow officer, a rival who had fallen into debt. For his behavior here in the sister cities, I have only suspicions. However, I’m certain that Jan’s criminal contacts arranged the attack upon Officer Lornis and me.”
“Are you intending to use this as leverage against the Serasa-Kolme? Perhaps bypass my arbitration?” Anja still hadn’t moved.
“No, of course not.” She didn’t want Anja to think she was also resorting to blackmail. “I don’t want Peri to ever learn about this. I’m trying to say that my regard for Jan isn’t entirely the result of my hurt pride. My honor requires this, as does my self-respect. I suspect you have your own resources—look into Jan’s activities yourself, if you choose.”
If you dare, Lady Anja. The room was quiet for a moment as their gazes locked.
“Then I ask you to keep this to yourself until I’ve had time to do that,” Anja said firmly.
“Certainly.” When Anja didn’t look convinced, she added, “On my Honor, Lady.”
Anja leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’ll be honest. It’s unlikely that Vakuutis-Nelja Netta will have any children. Thus, contracting her to any Serasa-Kolme asset would be unwise, particularly to Jan, who has already successfully fathered a child. My best bet is to see you and Jan reconciled.”
She felt a pang of pity for Netta, but shrugged it aside. “I will abide by your decision, Lady, but I promise you we’ll never reconcile.”
“Very well.” Anja sighed and picked up a pen on her desk. “I’ll look into your concerns. Do you wish Lady Meran-Viisi Aracia to be your advocate?”
“No, I don’t need Meran-Viisi involvement. I’m not asking for lineal changes—both Peri and I should remain Serasa-Kolme.”
“Really?” Anja asked. “Why should you stay Serasa-Kolme?”
“You said I could be useful, that I could be valuable—” She stumbled over the words.
“If you left the City Guard? Are you thinking of quitting, Draius?”
“Not quitting, never that.” She raised her chin. “But if circumstances don’t change, I may lose my position and perhaps even my commission. That’s simply the price for failure.”
Anja smiled and her face softened. Draius was surprised how young she looked, but then quickly reminded herself that Lady Anja was a matriarch. Never trust someone who’s trained to run a lineage, someone who was raised to sacrifice anything and everything for her bloodline and “assets.”
“Don’t let your failure in marriage taint your professional work,” Anja said. “And don’t let Jan affect your confidence. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite suited for the Guard. You just need to change your circumstances.”
After those strange words, Lady Anja dismissed her.
•••
It was after noon on Fairday. Draius and Usko were the only ones in the outer office when Lornis arrived. His skin was pale and while he carried a cane, he didn’t use it. His uniform, as always, was pristine and after he settled himself in a chair at the table, he gave Draius a dazzling smile.
“Well, at least your spirits are high,” she said.
“I feel better than I look. Does that make any sense?”
Usko kept his gaze down and ignored their conversation. Perhaps the clerk felt guilty about Lornis’s condition, suspecting the conspirators had been involved in the attack. Well, a healthy amount of guilt isn’t a bad thing, especially if it helps him cooperate. Unfortunately, thinking about the attack caused her own pangs of guilt and she glan
ced down at the table, also avoiding eye contact with Lornis.
“Miina is on watch duty and Ponteva’s making one last attempt to identify Taalo’s apprentice.” She gestured at the piles of papers. “Usko and I are looking for information on the DaniloAna, the ship that carried the lodestone out of port.”
Usko cleared his throat and adjusted the spectacles on his nose so they were precisely straight. “We discovered that Tellina was filing a claim for the Danilo Ana with Vakuutis-Nelja underwriters. This was risky for Taalo and the other conspirators, so that may be why they murdered Tellina.”
Shipowners often insured their cargoes with underwriters. It was an advanced form of gambling: underwriters bet the losses would be minimal and their income would cover them, while ship-owners gambled that compensation for losses would make up for payments. What was ludicrous was that the most common cause of loss to shippers in these days was piracy, and piracy wasn’t covered any more. Only when cargo was lost to “natural tragedy during safe passage” could a claim be made, and then multiple forms of proof of value were needed to make the underwriters pay off.
“They didn’t want Tellina to submit the claim because it would bring unwarranted attention to the ship?” Lornis asked.
“Tellina was risking exposure of the conspiracy so he could recover the cost of the vessel.” Draius hoped she’d never have to explain any of these details to Maricie.
“What he was doing was doubly deceitful,” Usko said. “Underwriters require a legal assessment of the cargo and written guarantees that nothing dangerous is being transported. Tellina couldn’t truthfully provide an assessment or such a guarantee.”
“He doesn’t sound like a follower of the Way of the Light,” Lornis said.
She looked sharply at him. There was more naiveté in his voice, and his words, than she liked. “People often have misplaced loyalties.” She winced and looked away from his wide brown eyes. This hit closer to home than she liked, and her voice became harsher. “I’ve heard that Groygan thieves favor the goddess Erina, yet the Mistress of Time doesn’t condone thievery.”
Her voice became strident, and she felt as guilty as Usko looked. The clerk shuffled papers into piles, keeping his head bowed. Lornis cocked his head and looked at her quizzically—she was suddenly reminded of Dahni. For a moment she panicked. How much empathy could Lornis have from the phrenic healing? Could he read her mind? What followed was bitter accusation. I wouldn’t be in this position, if not for Jan. There was only one reason to keep her knowledge about the attack within the Serasa-Kolme, as Anja requested, and that was for Peri’s well being.
“Officer Draius and I are searching for a possible Groygan connection,” Usko said in a quiet voice, bringing Draius back to the business at hand.
“The fact that the conspirators are convinced the ship went down strengthens my suspicions that the ship sailed for Chikirmo, and that Groygans may be involved,” she said.
“How did you make that connection?” Lornis looked bewildered.
“Rhobar controlled the pirating around the southern Angim, and the King’s Guard is convinced he did his deeds with Groygan knowledge. Not necessarily as a privateer, but they feel Rhobar couldn’t have operated as freely as he did without Groygan blessings.”
“Ah. You think the conspirators had a Groygan benefactor, someone with enough authority to give the ship safe passage. That’s why they think the ship is still out there,” Lornis said.
“That’s my guess.” She was pleased, almost irrationally so, that the healing hadn’t dulled him. “Meanwhile, I need you to figure out where Vanhus fits in this whole thing. The Purje-Kolme matriarch is already pestering the captain for the return of these records.” She dumped a pile of papers in front of Lornis.
“Yes, ser,” Lornis said cheerfully, making her eyes narrow. How was it possible for him to be in such good humor, when faced with that pile?
Lornis set out paper, pen, and ink for notes, and started. There was quiet in the office, save for the scratching of his pen and murmured comments as Usko identified something he thought Draius should read.
After several hours, the lieutenant gave a little whoop and looked at them with a bright smile. “I found the connection. Taalo said they lost ‘seven of the excavating team,’ is that correct?” Lornis asked Usko.
“Yes, I believe that’s what Taalo said,” the clerk answered cautiously.
“Vanhus wasn’t only involved in imports and exports. He also ran exploration teams. Over a period of five erins, he paid out seven death compensations to various lineages, and each compensation is noted as an ‘excavation accident.’“
Draius harrumphed. She’d looked through that same pile a day ago, and hadn’t caught the significance of the death compensations. Lornis found the connection within hours. Her ability to hold onto the details was slipping, with everything else. “So Vanhus worked for the conspirators, possibly to find the lodestone. But why kill him?”
The door opened, and all three looked up as Ponteva entered. “I still have no name or lineage for the apprentice, and I’ve gone to every matriarch within the sister cities to check for missing persons. Norsis had to send the body to the anonymous pyre operated by the hospital.”
She’d been hoping for more; now she only had her theory that the boy was killed because he knew too much. She didn’t think Taalo was the bash-in-the-head type. She easily pictured him with knives, using scientific precision, but she couldn’t see him wielding a club. Taalo probably had someone else take care of his apprentice.
“How sad for the boy.” Lornis shook his head. “To have no one by your pyre, no one to call your ancestors to lead your way to the Stars.”
She’d never considered herself spiritual. However, she was affected by Lornis’s words and not wholly because of the death of a nunnetton. She hadn’t attended her father’s pyre; by the time she’d received the letter from Meran-Viisi Nuora, he was dead. It was 1465 and although her father had been ill, he hadn’t been expected to die—he was only 79 years old. Now she wondered who had been at the pyre to sing for her father. He had transferred to the Meran-Viisi from the Meran-Kolme, so Draius had placed his ashes into the Meran-Viisi reliquary with hardly a thought. Worse, she didn’t remember mumbling a request to her ancestors for his safe passage.
She came out of her reverie to notice Lornis watching her. By the Horn, what is he doing to me? She had half a mind to ask him to leave the room. Instead, she looked out the window to see the clouds flaming from the sunset. She dismissed everyone and Usko, still under arrest, left with Ponteva.
Lornis stood up a bit stiffly, using the cane. “Well, I need more rest and large quantities of food.” His tone was light, but he looked tired.
“Are you feeling well?” Draius asked.
He paused. “Are you asking as my commander, or as my friend?”
“Does it matter?”
He looked at her carefully, and she dropped her gaze. “It probably matters more to me than it does to you,” he said softly.
“Look, Lieutenant—”
“I know I make you uncomfortable, but it’s not me. It’s you. You’re hiding something and it’s going to crush you. I’m warning you, because I—I care about you.”
She was speechless while Lornis made a dignified exit. After he left, she mechanically filed away the evidence important to the case in a marked box.
Twilight softened the streets as Draius left the office. She hailed a carriage, but paused before giving the driver her home address. Changing her mind, she said, “The Meran-Viisi reliquary, and hurry.”
Since her intentions were obvious, the driver did his utmost to get her up the plateau and to the reliquary in Betarr Serin before the stars came out. She tipped him well before hurrying through the arches into the place where 700 years of Meran-Viisi ancestral ashes were kept.
All reliquaries were open to the night skies, and inside there were about thirty people getting ready for star-rise. Not everyone went to the pubs on
Fairday evening; some went in pursuit of spiritual peace. She seated herself cross-legged upon the mats laid out on the stone floor, and looked up as the stars became visible. While the Meran-Viisi constellation slowly rose in the spring night, she sang with the others as her ancestors came into sight.
“Reach to the Stars, o soul who now wanders. Strive for the Stars, for home, family, and peace.”
As the familiar chant continued, Draius watched the clear night sky. Under her breath, she recited her ancestor’s names as she looked to each point of light. Although this is belated, Father, I wish you safe passage on your journey. May you find peace and your own place in the firmament.
Suddenly a star flared across the night sky, so bright that Draius saw the trail after she closed her eyes. There were murmurs within the reliquary; something important was happening. The Star Watchers, in consultation with the Phrenii, would have to interpret this portent.
chapter Twenty-Nine
Second Fairday, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471
Last evening, I thought we lost our wielder, but he pulled through. This time, however, we barely had any time to look for the lodestone before he collapsed. I attempted to speak with my employer about his unsuitable assistant.
“If he goes mad?” I asked. “What will we do?”
“I have contingencies,” was the answer. “Leave it be, since you have a different task. We must deal with the clerk. He’s under watch every hour of the day and we’ll have to do it remotely, with charms. Can you do it?”
My heart was beating fast. Yes, I could do it, but… “I’ll need specialized charms, powerful ones. I’d have to make more.”
“I figured that.” My employer motioned for me to follow. He grabbed a lamp to light a musty hallway. As he led, our footsteps creaked on cracked floorboards. At the end of the hallway was a door. My employer unlocked and threw it open, holding the lamp high.
“Can you do anything with that?” His deep voice reverberated in the close hallway and room, and caused a pile of rags in the corner to flinch and twitch.
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 27
