Wrath of the Fury Blade

by Geoff Habiger

  Reva reached for the hot cacao, letting the heat from the porcelain cup warm her fingers. She breathed deeply, the aroma wafting around her silver-red hair. She was just about to take a sip, when someone stepped in front of her table, blocking the morning light.

  “Whoever the hell you are, you have two breaths to move.” Her voice was quiet and filled with implied menace, but the person didn’t move. Reva looked up in annoyance, her turquoise eyes piercing through the person who dared disturb her morning ritual.

  A young Constable—he couldn’t have been more than forty-seven or forty-eight years of age—stood before her. He had long, hickory-brown hair and rather plain, muddy brown eyes. His right hand was clenched in a fist over his heart in salute. His uniform was sharp and neat, a green leather vest over a pale green wool shirt, brown trousers, and green puttee wrapped around his ankles and calves. He wore dark blue bracers on both forearms, with red trim and a birch leaf tooled into the leather, indicating his assignment to Betula Division. They were the patrol officers, walking their rounds throughout the city to protect and assist the citizens.

  Reva continued to stare hard at the Constable over the cup of cacao still poised at her lips. The Constable was beginning to wither under her stare.

  “C…Constable Inspector Lunaria,” he finally stammered. “First Constable Aescel demands your immediate presence in his office.”

  “No.” Reva took a long sip of the cacao—now merely warm—and had the small pleasure of seeing the Constable’s eyes go wide.

  “Ma’am?”

  “I plan on spending today in rest and relaxation, since I damn well earned it.” She set the cup down.

  “But Constable Inspector, the First Constable sent me personally to get you. He said it was most urgent and I was to, quote, Get her ass here without fail unquote.”

  Reva sighed. So much for my day off. “Very well, proceed.” She gestured to the Constable with her hand.

  “Ma’am?”

  “The First Constable said ‘immediate’ and ‘urgent.’ I assume you are prepared to gate us there with your magic.”

  “Uh…no, ma’am.” The Constable’s right hand finally dropped the salute.

  “No?” Reva raised her voice slightly and glared at him. “You aren’t prepared to use your magic, or are you unwilling?” She pointed a finger at him. “I should report you for dereliction of duty.”

  “No, Inspector!” The Constable almost yelped with dread. “I’m not a magic user. I was ordered to find you and bring you to the First Constable. I tried at your home and your mother—”

  “You went to my home and bothered my mother?” She was working very hard now to hide her smile. How green was this Constable?

  “Yes, ma’am... I mean, no, ma’am.” The Constable licked his lips and looked around for help. The other patrons were all staring at him, clearly on Reva’s side. He took a breath and said, “I mean that I went to your home on the First Constable’s orders and your mother was kind enough to say that you’d be here.”

  Reva smiled inwardly; he’d recovered nicely. “So you didn’t bother my mother and you are not a magic user?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Reva picked up her cup of cacao—now barely warm—and took a drink. “I can finish my breakfast, then.”

  “But, Inspector,” he whined slightly, starting to panic. “The First Constable told me to bring you immediately. He was most insistent and said he’d kick me out of the Constabulary if I failed.”

  Reva picked up her fork and took another bite of her sweet roll, cocking her head in thought. She desperately wanted her day off, but if Aescel had threatened this moss-behind-the-ears Constable to find her on her day off, it could only mean that something serious had happened. Damnit.

  She took a long pull on the cacao, draining the cup before setting it down. Picking up the sweet roll she stood up and motioned to the Constable. “Very well, Constable. Let’s not keep the First Constable waiting.”

  Two

  Reva walked into the chaos that was the Acer Division of the Royal Tenyl Constabulary. The large room occupied half of the second floor of the main Constabulary building. The Royal Tenyl Constabulary had been established in the earliest days of the city through a Royal Writ, answerable to the city’s Mayor and tasked with keeping the peace. The Constabulary was meant to be apart from the military, a force that could deal with crime and threats to the city without threatening the noble’s hold on power.

  For centuries, the Constabulary had been based out of a group of buildings in the port along the River Tenz. The small cluster of buildings had been collectively called Port House. They had been grim and dank, often a hazard to the Constables that worked there, and sometimes a death trap for prisoners whose cells sometimes flooded with the tides. But Port House, along with nearly half of Tenyl, had been consumed by a massive fire that ravaged the city two hundred years ago. After the fire, the Constabulary was moved to temporary accommodations in a stone stable at the top of Poplar Hill in Hill Grove. Over the years, the temporary accommodations had become permanent and the Constabulary soon occupied not only the existing stables but many new buildings. From the beginning the Constables and people called the stables New Port House, or just New Port, even though the buildings were a dozen blocks from the port and the river.

  While Betula Division constables patrolled the groves throughout Tenyl, Acer Division was tasked with investigating all of the major crimes in the city. That included everything from theft to murder. The division room—it was affectionately called the “stable”, in reference to the building’s origins—was a forest of tables, stools, stacks of parchment, and elves. The Constables in Acer Division worked around the clock, though most of the Inspectors and their Seekers tried to work a normal shift during the day.

  That morning, Reva could sense a change in the room as she made her way across the stable. Elves milled about like normal, holding their cups of tea and pastries, but their conversations were quiet and subdued. It was obvious that they all knew what the matter was—the stable grapevine worked faster than a crystal ball. She wanted to stop and ask what was up but she knew she’d find out soon enough. She threaded her way across the stable to First Constable Aescel’s private office. She knocked and entered after a curt “Come in.”

  Aescel’s office was barely big enough to hold a desk and chair (no simple table and stool would do for the First Constable), a cloak stand, and some boxes holding stacks and rolls of parchment. There were no other chairs; Constables who met with FC Aescel stood. The room had originally been a tack room and a stable door was to Reva’s left that had at one time opened onto the stable. Some long forgotten First Constable had fixed the bottom half of the stable door so it wouldn’t open and installed glass in the top half to allow him to see what his people were doing.

  Reva shut the function door and stepped in front of the window to face FC Aescel’s desk. “Reporting as ordered, First Constable.” The words were perfunctory, almost glib. She didn’t bother coming to attention. She figured she was owed that much since it was her day off.

  “You’re out of uniform.” First Constable Malys Aescel frowned at her. The First Constable was into the middle of his second century, an eighty-year veteran of the Constabulary. He had gold-blond hair that was braided into a shoulder-length tail and was beginning to grey at the temples. His birch-colored skin was wrinkled around moss-green eyes and he had a strong, beak-like nose that had been broken at least once in his younger days. His ears were strongly tapered and set close to his head. Like all the other Constables, he wore the regulation leather vest and bracers with a deep blue shirt underneath.

  “It is my day off,” Reva replied.

  “Since when did I ever give you a day off?”

  “Apparently never.”

  Aescel gave a halfhearted smile. “We’ve got a bad one on our hands, Reva.”
/>   “Murder.” It wasn’t a question. Aescel always referred to murder as “a bad one.”

  Aescel nodded.

  “Do we know who the victim is?” Reva asked. She figured that it had to be somebody important for Aescel to pull her in on her day off.

  “We do. That’s why I sent for you, even though I knew it was your day off. But you’re one of my best and I know you’re between cases right now.”

  Reva nodded. Her last case had involved a lady who’d poisoned her husband and children just so she could run off with a bard. She and the musician had both committed suicide rather than face a trial.

  “This one is going to get political, too.”

  Reva let out a sigh. That meant Royal involvement in some form. The original writ given to the Constabulary gave them authority to investigate all crimes committed within Tenyl, even on Royal grounds. That was still true, but it meant a lot of people watching everything that she did and second-guessing her every decision.

  “Who’s the victim?”

  “First Magistrate Lavalé fey Avecath.”

  Reva’s mouth fell open at the name. She’d expected the victim to be a minor noble, maybe a baron or something. Not the King’s foreign advisor. “Shit,” she managed to say at last.

  Aescel gave her a wry smile. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his hair.

  “Look, Reva. I’ve already had two messages from LCI Gania and one from the King himself.” He held up a paper with the Royal seal affixed with a blob of wax. LCI Gania was the Lord Constable Inspector, who ran the Constabulary and reported to the Mayor. “They are already screaming for answers and they want us to find the murderer yesterday!”

  Reva nodded and absentmindedly grabbed a strand of her hair, sticking the end in her mouth. She’d been doing this ever since she was a little girl whenever she was thinking hard about something, and she’d never been able to break the habit. “What about the Green Cloaks?” she asked.

  Aescel winced. Green Cloaks was the unofficial name given to the Sucra, the King’s secret police. They were an organization that seemed to be made from myth and rumor, most of it probably spread by the Sucra themselves. They served the King as spies and informers and, if the rumors were true, performed kidnappings, assassinations, and other unspeakable acts, too. The Sucra and the RTC had a tenuous relationship at best. The Constabulary was tasked with solving crimes and finding the truth. The Sucra worked at hiding the truth, except when it served their purposes.

  “You can expect their involvement,” Aescel said. “But I’ve been assured by LCI Gania herself that we have jurisdiction to find the murderer.”

  “Did you get it in writing?” Reva asked.

  “I did.” Aescel pulled a parchment from a pile on his desk and handed it to Reva.

  Reva tucked the parchment under her arm with a nod. The Green Cloaks could be such asses about these things. “What about a partner? Maybe that new Constable you sent to get me?”

  “I hope you were nice to Constable Gania.”

  “Wait. He’s not related to the LCI, is he?”

  “He’s her eldest son. Just joined the Constabulary last week.” Aescel smiled.

  “Sure, I was nice to him.” Eventually, she didn’t say. “So, can he partner with me?”

  “No. You know the regulations. You’ll partner with a Seeker.”

  “Who? Cas left yesterday for Narris.” Seeker Castanea Rubus had been Reva’s partner for over three years. Her mother had recently fallen ill and Cas had transferred to the Royal Narris Constabulary in order to be closer to her. Reva had been disappointed—she and Cas had made a great team—but understood Cas’s desire to be with her family. Reva wasn’t sure if she’d be able to find a Seeker who she could work with as easily as Cas—who knew her every thought in advance, was willing to take risks, was good in combat, and was able to watch Reva’s back. Reva wasn’t looking forward to breaking in a new partner. “What about Seeker Pfinzloab, then?”

  Aescel shook his head. “No. You know she’s partnered with CI Pflamtael. You and he shake each other’s branches enough, I’m not gonna let you steal his partner too. Besides, I’ve already picked a new Seeker for you.”

  “Who?” Reva asked in a huff, crossing her arms.

  “Him.” Aescel pointed a finger out the window to the stable. Reva turned around to see an elf sitting at her table. She didn’t recall seeing him before. He had straw-brown hair braided into a tail that came down to his shoulders and wore the regulation green-brown Constable’s cloak. He sat with his back to them so she couldn’t see his face, but she thought she could see a bit of orange on his forearm.

  “His name is Ansee Carya.” The First Constable pointed a finger at Reva. “And you will be nice to him.”

  Reva put a hand to her chest and gave him a “Who, me?” look.

  “Now, get going. I sent Senior Constable Ghrellstone and the rest of your usual team to secure the crime scene. And the Alchemists will be there soon.”

  Reva came to attention and saluted. Turning to open the door, Aescel called after her. “Be careful Reva. I have a bad feeling about this one.”

  Three

  Seeker Ansee Carya sat at the table, his fingers twirling a quill pen. He was a bit confused, and a little bit excited, which always made him nervous. His day had started out normal enough: eating breakfast, dressing for work, saying good-bye to Ember, his pet fire salamander. He’d then walked through the pre-dawn fog to New Port Annex Number 4, which was his duty station. He’d barely finished checking the notes from the previous shift and his assignments for the day when Senior Constable Slywynd had come in and told him to “hurry your sapling arse” over to the main building. Ansee hadn’t asked why. Even though he outranked the Senior Constable, Slywynd had been in the Constabulary for longer than Ansee had been alive—a fact that the Senior Constable mentioned to Ansee at least three or four times a day.

  Ansee had hurried across the cobbled courtyard to the main building, where the duty desk Constable told him to go to the Acer Division stable. Ansee was puzzled, wondering if he’d pissed somebody off and was going to get chewed out, but headed up the stairs. Upon reaching the stable he was bounced from elf to elf until some Constable finally told him to “sit his ass down and stay out of everybody’s way.” Somebody had asked him if he wanted some tea, and when Ansee said yes, the Constable had pointed over his shoulder and said, laughing, “It’s over there, get it yourself. And bring me a cup while you’re at it.” Ansee had gone to the tea nook and made two cups of tea, delivering one to the still laughing Constable. That had been over an hour ago.

  The tea had been too strong for his taste, even after an ample spoonful of honey, and it sat, cold now, on the table. Ansee picked up a quill that had been sitting on the table and idly tapped it against the cup as he took in his surroundings. Acer Division was very different from what he was used to in Nul Pfeta Division. For one thing, there didn’t seem to be anybody like Senior Constable Slywynd telling dirty jokes, or Constable Gallwynn regaling everybody with his latest sexual conquest in lurid detail.

  The stable was also quite spacious, compared to the small space in Annex 4. There, Ansee and his fellow Constables sat six or eight to a table and were constantly bumping elbows and treading on each other’s feet. Annex 4 was filthy too, filled with years of grime, and dirt, and stench that never seemed to get cleaned. Acer Division, in contrast, was clean and they appeared to have a table for each Constable. There was the expected clutter of parchment and stuff, but to Ansee it looked like organized clutter.

  The Constables, Inspectors, and Seekers kept giving him furtive glances, which only served to make him more nervous. Nobody had spoken to him since he’d sat down and he still had no clue as to why he’d been summoned there. He dipped the feathered end of the quill into the tea and began drawing patterns on a blank piece
of parchment.

  “Is that my good quill?”

  Ansee jumped, startled by the accusing voice, and knocked over the cup of tea. The brown liquid flowed across the table, seeming to find every available parchment to soak into. In his haste to try to stop the flow, the quill broke with a loud ‘SNAP’.

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Ansee grabbed the hem of his cloak and started blotting at the spilled tea. “I didn’t hear you…and…oh, this is such a mess…I didn’t mean to…” He continued to blot at the tea and started to pick up wet parchment.

  Reva watched the Seeker try to clean up the mess. It was amusing in a way. The table had a long history of tea floods spreading across it, which was why she never kept any important documents on the table.

  “Stop,” Reva ordered. “You’re just making it worse.”

  Ansee immediately stopped and turned to face the woman. He let the hem of his cloak fall, wiping his hands on his breeches. She was a little taller than he was, with high cheekbones and silver hair that was streaked through with red. The hair was worn loose, held in place by a simple leather headband, and fell to the top of her shoulders. She had a soft, light brown complexion that Ansee thought looked like the color of fresh-cut cypress. Her turquoise eyes were piercing him with a penetrating gaze.

  He began to wilt under that gaze. “Umm…sorry about the mess,” he finally said.

  “What’s your name, Seeker?” she asked, folding her arms. Ansee saw that she held two pairs of bracers.

  “Ansee Carya,” he stammered.

  “Antsy?” she asked, confused.

  Damn, he thought. He’d hoped his nickname wouldn’t come up. He’d had it ever since his early school days, the result of his excited disposition and the similarity of the word to his name. He hated it. It had only taken until the end of his first day in Nul Pfeta Division for Senior Constable Slywynd to begin ruthlessly taunting him with it.