It’s like the city knows how close Nuall came to sacrificing her and finishing his ritual. The whole damned place feels on edge.
“There was another suicide down in the Trade District. That makes a dozen that we know of.” Not the cheeriest subject, but it’s strange, and nobody’s talking about it.
“Do we have any idea what’s causing them? And how many does that make? And do the victims have anything in common?” Mikani could tell by her tone that she was wondering if they were actually suicides or murders dressed up to look that way.
“Word is, they all had more than a hint of glamour—seers, fortune-tellers, and a couple of confidence men with the gift of gab. Clemens—”
“Who’s that again?” she cut in.
“Commander of Golden District.” Ritsuko didn’t socialize as much as Mikani. He was prone to knocking back a few pints at the CID-favored pub while his partner went home to her friends at the boardinghouse. Which meant he heard all the good gossip first. “He’s convinced there’s a witch hunt going on, a reaction to Nuall’s murder spree and the riots last month.”
He swerved to avoid a bus that stopped in front of them without much warning, its engine hissing angrily and venting dark smoke instead of steam.
“Watch your back, Mikani.” Ritsuko frowned. “But I’m not convinced that theory tracks. Why would anyone kill the ones who were being hunted?”
“Never said Clemens was smart, partner, even if he’s the boss. I think there’s something else going on. Hell if I know what, though.”
“The deaths must be related somehow if there’s a unifying trait amongst the deceased.”
“Besides their lack of breathing, you mean.”
She cut him a reproving look. “Not funny. What else have you heard?”
“Saskia said another sloop failed to make port from the farms down south.”
For the last few weeks, Alexandra Braelan, Saskia to her friends, had pressed him to help with the cragger pirates, who were hitting the Free Trader shipping companies hard. She was also one of the few lovers with whom Mikani maintained relatively cordial relations after the affair ended, but that didn’t mean he could take off right now. I do owe her for her help in thwarting Lorne Nuall’s scheme, but there’s no way Gunwood’s giving me personal time now.
“I wondered when that bill would come due,” Ritsuko said.
“Hold up, there’s something going on.” Mikani pulled up to the curb and grabbed his hat and battered walking stick from the back while Ritsuko slipped to his side.
A couple of dozen people milled around outside the mirror station, and they did not look happy. Their rumbling nearly drowned out the clerk’s call for calm. “Unfortunately, this office will be closed until we deal with some technical issues.”
“Do you have an estimated time for repair?” a man demanded. “This message is urgent.”
The clerk tugged at his tie. “At this time, I can’t say. Until—”
“This is ridiculous!”
Mikani had been around mobs often enough to recognize when the mood started to turn. So he stepped forward, Ritsuko at his shoulder. “Step back. There’s another station a few blocks north, so why don’t you head that way?” Using his stick for leverage and his ID on prominent display, he shouldered carefully but steadily through the crowd, making sure Ritsuko kept up. “The sooner you disperse, the sooner we’ll be able to get someone down here to fix this.”
His partner flashed her own credentials before she added, “I’d get there first, avoid the queue. Dawdlers will end up waiting even longer.”
The man who had said his message was urgent broke off and hurried in the direction that Mikani had indicated. That sparked a mass exodus, eventually leaving the sweaty-faced clerk to stammer out his thanks. He had the typical look of a public servant: round about the middle, crumpled, and bearing a slightly anxious air.
“So what’s going on?” Ritsuko asked.
The clerk licked his lips and shuffled his feet for a moment, as if trying to find the words. Then he sighed and opened the door. “It might be easier if you saw for yourself . . . maybe you’ll have some idea what to do.”
Mikani looked at Ritsuko, who shrugged, then they followed the clerk inside. The high-ceilinged room was painted an off shade of blue, which brought out the grime on the floor tiles nicely. A long, wooden counter dominated the back, its polished surface reflecting the swirls of light and color from the row of a dozen silver mirrors hung from the wall. The clerk moved aside, seeking refuge behind his desk.
“I’m not sure—” A shrill wail rang through the room, echoing and gaining volume before breaking into a jumbled murmur of breathy voices. “Bronze gods, what in the hells is that?”
Ritsuko approached the nearest device, peering at the movement within. He couldn’t tell what was trying to take shape, but Mikani had used the mirrors often enough to realize that this wasn’t normal behavior. His partner tested the surface, and the metal reacted as if it were made of water, rippling outward in gradually widening circles. She pulled back, eyes wide.
“What’s that?” the clerk asked. “I haven’t dared to touch it since that started twenty minutes ago.”
“It’s . . . cold,” Ritsuko said.
Mikani winced as a spike of ice slowly pressed against his forehead, pulsing in rhythm with the ripples on the silver. Hells and Winter, that’s not normal. “Careful, Ritsuko . . . that’s no technical malfunction.” He could almost make out words in the throbbing at his temples, his gift responding to the disquiet of the mirrors.
“In all my years here, they’ve never done . . . that.” The clerk wiped his brow. “I’ve never even heard of anything like it. I sent a runner for assistance to House Magnus, maybe they can help.” He did not sound convinced. Or hopeful.
“Mikani, a word?”
Ritsuko took his arm and led him a discreet distance from the public servant. “This might seem like an odd question, but do you . . . feel anything from them?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I . . . yes. Ice-cold. Whispers, as if the mirrors were . . . alive, and like a nest of snakes, alien and stirred up.”
Before Ritsuko could reply, a mixed group of men and women entered, each carrying a leather case. The clerk looked so relieved that Mikani figured this must be the repair team. The tallest, oldest member of the crew frowned when he saw Mikani and Ritsuko.
“Clear the station, please.”
Mikani straightened up, instinctively protesting. “We’re CID, sir, and you are . . . ?”
“Third Carl Hildur, House Magnus. This station is outside your jurisdiction, as are all other extensions of House Magnus, as provided in due law. This is a House matter.” The other men came closer to their Carl. “So I’ll ask once more. Clear the station, please.”
Ready to argue, he tensed, until Ritsuko wrapped her fingers around his arm. She’s right. This is stupid. No need for a pissing match here.
“Of course.” He touched a fingertip to the brim of his hat and signaled for Ritsuko to lead the way as the Magnus team turned back to the mirrors and waited pointedly for them to go.
Once outside, he breathed in deeply. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge, partner.”
But she was frowning, and apparently not due to his behavior. “There’s something strange going on, don’t you think?”
That didn’t require an answer, so Mikani led the way back to the cruiser. He swung in as Ritsuko did on the other side. “Do you think Gunwood knows about the mirrors?”
His partner aimed an uncharacteristically mischievous smile at him. “Of course not. Didn’t you hear the man, Mikani? It’s a House matter.”
Mikani snorted. “It is until they muck it up, and they call us to clean up their mess.”
He glanced toward the station as he started the cruiser. As he watched, the team covered the doors with black cloth, a couple of uniformed Magnus guards taking position before the door. Suicides, weeping trains, and screaming mirrors, i
t’s almost enough to make me miss the riots.
“Let’s get going,” Ritsuko said. “Gunwood must be wondering where we are by now.”
CHAPTER 3
A DAY LATER, RITSUKO WAS STILL HEARING THE UNEARTHLY cry from the underground along with the wail of the mirrors. In her time as an inspector, she had encountered some strange things, but nothing that surreal. She and Mikani had been investigating strange incidents all morning, but a courier caught up with them fifteen minutes ago, directing them to return to HQ. Given the way the week had gone, she couldn’t imagine it was good news.
“You think we’re being promoted?” she asked Mikani with a wry smile.
“Definitely.” Her partner was still trying to get twigs out of his hair from the last call: an oak in the garden of a Magnus retainer started smashing windows and tearing at the eaves. It took two hours to break enough branches to rescue the terrified man. “Gunwood’s tired of the paperwork, and I’m ready to waste a lot of it to get back at that tree. Therefore, a nice, cushy desk job for both of us, your idea of heaven.”
There were a few inspectors at their desks as she passed through. A few of them nodded or lifted a chin in greeting. Since they’d received formal thanks from the Architect himself, Ritsuko didn’t receive quite as much outright disrespect as she used to. As usual, Mikani chose not to knock, barging into Gunwood’s office as if he owned the place.
This time, the commander didn’t acknowledge the oversight, wearing a look of complete preoccupation. “Shut the door behind you.”
She did as Gunwood ordered, but she didn’t make herself at home. Mikani leaned against the door and folded his arms. She couldn’t help being concerned, however, as a closed door meant the boss had something percolating that he didn’t want the rest of the office to overhear.
“What’s the situation, sir?” She kept her tone level.
Gunwood gestured at the ready room on the other side of the door, then at the window. A handful of smoke columns dotted the city beyond. “You’ve seen what it’s like.” Gunwood stood with a grunt; Ritsuko suspected he hadn’t moved from his desk in hours, trying to rein in the chaos. “We got orders from the Council earlier today. Or rather, you did.” He dug in his desk for a moment, then pushed a large envelope toward her. “The paperwork was specific about who I should send.” He offered Ritsuko a wan smile before smirking at Mikani. “Apparently you two made quite an impact on the powers that be.”
After a second’s thought, she decided the commander meant the Architect. Aurelia Wright’s father, the lord of House Olrik, was the only influential person she and Mikani had impressed in the last year. They hadn’t heard anything from Miss Wright regarding their inquiry on the weeping train, but maybe their initiative reminded the Architect to make use of them. If their new assignment came from him, it could be anything. Dread settled in her stomach as she picked up the packet of papers, opened it, and paged through.
She read aloud, “You are hereby commissioned to act on behalf of Dorstaad in an assignment abroad. Having distinguished yourselves as inspectors, the Council trusts that such a special task will not fall outside your capabilities. Report immediately to the House Olrik’s envoy at the Academy for further instruction.”
She shuffled through the rest of the documents and found valid travel papers, along with some vouchers for transport and accommodations. Ritsuko handed the envelope to Mikani. Then she turned to Gunwood with a frown.
“Did I understand this correctly? We’re being banished from the city?”
Gunwood leaned heavily on his desk, looking tired. “Don’t be daft, Ritsuko. We need to stop this at the source, and someone high up thinks they know how.”
“Why not send the Guard? They’ve plenty to go round, surely.” Mikani didn’t look up from rifling through the papers, scowling as he skimmed them. “If they know who or what’s behind this, a couple of companies of lancers and grenadiers should do the trick, no?”
Gunwood snorted. “Any House sends their army up, the others follow to try and pick them off . . . so they get us to do their dirty work. As always.”
“I don’t understand,” Ritsuko said. “Why us? I’ve never even been out of the city, and Mikani—” She broke off when she realized she didn’t know how much her partner had traveled before joining the CID.
The commander shrugged. “Could be because you did such a stellar job with the last crisis, so you’re the current favorite. Better yet, ask the Olrik envoy when you see him. You two have your orders.”
Ritsuko knew better than to argue with the commander when he took that tone, so she merely led the way from the office, through the duty room, and down the lift into the garage. She didn’t speak until Mikani had commandeered his favorite red cruiser, battered as it was. Once they were both on board, the doors shut behind them, she let her temper overflow a bit.
“This doesn’t seem like a vote of confidence,” she muttered. “The city running mad, and we’re supposed to walk away? Sounds like they’re binning us.”
“Hells and Winter.” Mikani took them out of the garage, weaving through the mess of carriages, buses, and hansoms filled with people fleeing the city. “I can deal with killers, thieves, smugglers, and the occasional power-hungry relic from another age, but haunted trains, wailing mirrors, and trees with a bad attitude?”
“It’s outside our usual purview, that’s for sure.”
He went on, “I don’t like leaving any more than you do, but what good can we do here?” He sounds tired. Frustrated. “I’m not keen on running, but I’m less than eager to punch an oak into submission again.”
“I can’t help feeling someone wants us out of the city.” She shrugged. “Go on, mock me for imagining conspiracies everywhere.”
He offered a playful look, probably trying to lighten the mood. “I wanted us out of the city, remember? Reward, cabin, cooking?”
“I should’ve known you were behind this, Mikani. You live for the day when you’ll have my undivided attention.”
“You know me. I’m a devious bastard.”
Truth. The tone sounded in her ear, confirming his statement. For a few seconds, she let herself imagine that he did want to get her alone. But that was a silly fantasy, one that would interfere with their ability to work together. So she balled it up like a flawed incident report and cast it away. The remainder of the ride was quiet as Mikani navigated pockets of heavy traffic. Near the Academy, the congestion lightened, though there were more pedestrians.
Mikani flashed his credentials, along with the invitation, and the university constable directed them to private parking. They hurried up the smooth stone walk to the administrative building where the meeting was to take place. Inside, it was quiet and austere with cool tiles and pale walls lined with old portraits.
“Looks like we’re in the conference room at the end of the hall,” Mikani said.
The envoy was already waiting for them. He was a slim man with a face younger than his silver hair suggested. At their entry, he rose with a smooth poise that made Ritsuko immediately understand how he had come to work for the Architect. This man looked as if nothing could penetrate his perfect aplomb.
“Inspectors.” The amanuensis bowed from the waist to each in turn, hands clasped lightly before him in a manner Ritsuko had not seen since her grandfather had passed. “I’m Julian Argyle, in service to House Olrik.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Given her resentment of this assignment, Ritsuko didn’t mean it, but she had been reared to display good manners.
“I thank you for meeting me. Please, be seated.” He straightened and waited for them to sit before taking his own place across the table. “Our people believe they know the cause for the current . . . troubles, in the city. As the documents indicate, the Council has need of agents it can trust to end these incidents.”
“So what’s making the city go insane? Trees, trains, mirrors, suicide. It’s a hellish mess out there.” Mikani looked as if he expected—or rather hoped—t
hat Argyle had these answers.
“There was a . . . disturbance recently, and the elemental spirits are unsettled. Old procedures for calming them no longer seem effective. We received a cry for help from the Winter Isle, shortly before the mirrors stopped functioning. Bad as it has become here, it’s even worse in Northport. Everything indicates that the source of the problems lies somewhere in House Skarsgard territory, in the lands surrounding Mount Surtir. You will travel there, find the root cause to all this, and deal with it as you see fit.”
Maybe this was pointless, but she wasn’t ready to give in without a fight. “I hardly think Mikani and I are the most suited to handle this problem. Don’t you have experts to send?”
Argyle frowned at her. “Are you questioning the Architect’s judgment, Inspector?”
So the orders do come through him.
“No,” she said quietly.
“To assuage your curiosity, the decision resulted from a conversation with his daughter.”
“Because we came to ask about the train?” Mikani guessed.
“Precisely. Nobody else has asked why, Inspector. Only how we can stop it. But as a good investigator knows, one must often answer the former before the latter can be unlocked. And as for sending experts, who do you suppose would be more qualified? While there are professors of such esoteric matters, they’re unlikely to survive the hazards of the voyage, let alone be forged of metal strong enough to enforce a solution.”
“That’s encouraging,” Mikani muttered.
Ritsuko mentally mapped the journey. It would take several days by ship, followed by land travel. It was all a bit mysterious for her tastes. What could she and Mikani do that the local authorities couldn’t manage? True, her partner had quite a gift, but the Architect couldn’t know about her own. Unless Miss Wright told him . . . In that case, it was possible Olrik thought that their combined abilities offered some unique advantage.
Silver Mirrors Page 3
