The Flaw in All Magic (Magebreakers Book 1)

by Ben S. Dobson

  The ogren woman nodded. “Understood, Inspector,” she said in a perfect, melodious voice, and then ducked back out the doors.

  Tane rubbed his arm where the big hand had gripped it—rather more tightly than he liked. “Is all this really necessary, Ree? You know we aren’t criminals.”

  “Constable Inspector Lovial,” Indree corrected. She didn’t bother to respond to the rest of it. “My friends call me Ree. We aren’t friends.”

  “Constable Inspector?” Tane said. “Already? Always the over-achiever.” He hadn’t expected to see her in a bluecap’s uniform, but it was no shock at all that she’d risen quickly through the ranks. Indree had always excelled at anything she wanted to excel at.

  Indree didn’t answer. Instead, she strode across the small waiting room and knocked firmly on the inner door.

  “Enter,” came a voice from the other side.

  “Come on,” Indree said, and beckoned to Tane and Kadka. “Don’t do anything else stupid, and maybe I won’t be throwing you in a cell at the end of this.” She pushed open the door and strode through.

  Kadka leaned close to Tane, grinning. “Think she likes you,” she whispered.

  “She used to,” Tane answered quietly, and followed Indree in.

  Tane had been in the chancellor’s office only once before, after submitting his dissertation, and that meeting had ended in his expulsion. He very much hoped this one went better. The office was much as he remembered, huge and well-appointed, decorated with impressive artwork and artifacts of historical meaning to the University. One piece in particular drew his attention, one he didn’t remember from the last time: a bronze sculpture against the northern wall depicting an archaic mage’s staff extending upright through the center of a crown. The Mage Emperor’s sigil. If the piece truly dated from the time of the Mage War, it was some six hundred years old.

  Inside, the deans of the University waited on either side of the chancellor’s desk: Dean Greymond, of course, frowning sternly at Tane; Sorn Brassforge, the dwarven Dean of Artifice, scratching his short auburn beard uncomfortably; and Valis Orthea, the Dean of Invocation, a massive, flaxen-haired ogren woman who could have been sculpted from marble.

  And sitting behind the desk was Chancellor Talain Nieris, a pale elven man with startlingly blue eyes and just a touch of grey in the black hair around his sharply pointed ears—the only sign of his three hundred and more years, a long life even for an elf. One of the elder scions of House Nieris, a Great House of the Senate, he’d been named chancellor of the University near a hundred years ago. The latest in a long tradition of elves in the position. Where most of the so-called magical races had some innate magical quirk—the instinctive illusory camouflage of the gnomish, or the stone- and metal-sense of the dwarven—elves were, in the eyes of many, the living essence of magic. Almost none were born without the gift of magecraft, and their long lifespans allowed them to master it in ways few others could. When the Senate of Houses appointed a chancellor, it was almost always an elf, and almost never a surprise.

  “Inspector Lovial. Thank you for dealing with this so promptly.” Nieris stood and nodded a polite greeting. He was impeccably dressed, in a deep purple longcoat with a ruffled silvery cravat at his throat. “And Mister Carver. How… unexpected, to see you here again.” If he was surprised, though, it certainly didn’t show on his face. He gestured to a number of chairs arrayed before his desk. “All of you, please sit. I understand we have much to discuss.”

  Tane took his seat, the brass cylinder tucked in his belt pressing uncomfortably against his back. He gestured at the sculpture of the staff and crown. “A bit of a controversial piece to have on display, isn’t it?” The Mage Emperor wasn’t remembered very kindly by history. The last ruler of the Estian Empire, his war to subjugate the magicless had shattered a dominion that once stretched all across Calene and parts of the southern continent of Anjica. It was in the aftermath of the Mage War that the Audland Protectorate had been founded, an island haven for the mages and magical races who had found themselves feared and hated across the Continent—whether they had sided with the Mage Emperor or not.

  “I don’t think so,” Nieris said mildly, settling back into his chair. “They say that forgotten history is doomed to repeat. If that is the case, then the Mage War is worth remembering, is it not?”

  “I suppose,” said Tane. He still didn’t like having to look at the thing. Easy to dismiss when you have magic. It was the ones who didn’t that he enslaved and killed.

  “In any event, we aren’t here to talk about the past.” Nieris looked to Indree. “Constable Inspector, if you would?”

  Indree was still standing behind Tane and Kadka, her cap under one arm. “Of course, Chancellor Nieris. For the benefit of those of you who weren’t there, Stooketon Yard sent me to meet with the chancellor about the murder. Shortly after I arrived he informed me of a triggered alarm spell in the primary artifice workshop. Considering that we had come to investigate the same location, I chose to respond in place of the University Guard. When we arrived, we found the scene in… considerable disarray. These two were alone inside. We searched them, but found no evidence of theft.”

  “The alarm was us,” Tane offered. “I’ll admit that. It must have detected me when I gave Kadka back her badge. But there was already someone in there. The real question is, why didn’t he trigger it?” No apologies—if he had any chance of not being thrown off campus, begging wouldn’t do it. Confidence opened more doors than contrition.

  Nieris frowned. “Perhaps you should tell us this story from the beginning, Mister Carver.”

  It didn’t take long for Tane to explain what had happened: the intruder, the portal, the wraith, and the smaller details in between. “And that’s about everything,” he finished. “Questions?”

  Greymond was the first to speak, rubbing her fingers against her temples. “You promised you wouldn’t… Spellfire, Tane, I should have the Inspector throw you in a cell.”

  “Allaea was my friend. Are you really surprised that I lied?”

  Greymond sighed. “I shouldn’t be, should I? But somehow I keep thinking better of you. I’m sorry, Chancellor Nieris. This is my fault. I never should have asked—”

  “We can work out who is to blame later, Dean Greymond,” said Chancellor Nieris. It was, Tane thought, more than a little bit satisfying to see Greymond interrupted for once. “Right now I only want information.” Nieris turned to Kadka. “What about you, Miss… Kadka, was it? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Most University Guard would have been cowed under question from the chancellor, but not Kadka. She just stared back at him, her arms crossed. “Is not so bad, is it? If we aren’t there, no one knows this man comes back, or how. No one finds—”

  “Any of the information we have now that we didn’t before,” Tane said, before she could mention the scroll case. Kadka gave him a questioning glance, but she didn’t contradict him. “We know he used a portal to get in, for one thing.”

  “So you said. That shouldn’t be possible.” Now Nieris looked to Indree. “Inspector Lovial, you saw evidence of this wraith?”

  “I did. They trapped it in an engine casing.”

  “Then I suppose we must believe your tale, Mister Carver. Where there is a wraith, there must have been a portal. You say it made a noise?”

  Tane nodded. “A howl, with a kind of crackling, groaning sound behind it. It made me think of ice.”

  “Like tunvok,” said Kadka, and then, after confused glances from all sides, “Animal. From Sverna.”

  “It might well have been,” said Nieris. “I can’t imagine the portal came from there—the distance is too great—but such rifts are… deeply unstable. It isn’t uncommon for random instabilities to draw sound through the Astra from places half the world away.” He laid a finger against his chin. “But I don’t see how this man could have done it. I crafted the campus wards against such spells myself, and I daresay there is no mage alive with as
much experience in portal magic.” That was true—Nieris had been university faculty for literal centuries, and experiments with portals had been much less restricted in his youth.

  “What if there were no portal wards for him to bypass?” Tane asked. “Would anyone have noticed if they’d already failed somehow? Portals aren’t exactly common. It might have been decades since anyone tried to open one on campus.”

  It was Indree who answered. “We’ve already secured the workshop and begun testing the wards. I received a sending on the way here verifying that they are intact.”

  “Of course they are,” Nieris said, rather haughtily. “Our ward maintenance is very thorough.”

  “Well, then, there’s another possibility no one is going to like very much,” said Tane. “Any of you four can cast portals on campus. I know you were together last night, but were all of you accounted for today?”

  Dean Orthea didn’t look offended so much as absolutely horrified—and her exquisitely sculpted ogren features made even that rather lovely. “You aren’t suggesting… It isn’t possible that one of us could have done that to Miss Hesliar, is it?” She was very much the clichéd representative of her people—gentle, sensitive, appalled by senseless violence. Rather cruelly ironic, Tane had always thought, considering their great curse: one of every three was born a brutish, barely sentient ogre that had to be sequestered in a sanctuary at the far south of the Isle.

  “Of course not, Valis,” Nieris said, in the bland, placating tone of a man who had dealt with such sensitivity a thousand times before. “Classes were in session during your… adventure, Mister Carver. Any number of students can account for the whereabouts of each of my deans. And I was meeting with Inspector Lovial.”

  “Then someone found another way through,” said Tane. “There must be a loophole, some way to make the wards see an intruder as one of you. I’d recommend changing the portal wards until we know more, at least for the workshops. No portals at all, in or out. The only perfect spell is one that deals in absolutes.”

  “As much as I appreciate your insights, Mister Carver,” Nieris said dryly, “keep in mind that you are here to be questioned, not to lead the investigation.”

  Tane seized the opening. “Sir, at this point I know as much about what happened as anyone. More than most. I saw the man who did it. Even Ree—er, Inspector Lovial can’t say that. If you want this solved quickly, you need me.”

  Dean Greymond interjected almost before Tane had finished speaking. “Chancellor, I don’t think—”

  At the same time, Indree said, “Sir, I have to protest—”

  Nieris silenced them both with a raised hand. “Interesting. Perhaps ‘need’ is a strong word, but then… you have found several flaws in our wards already, and provided information we would not otherwise have, putting aside the issue of your rather questionable methods. And I will admit you showed considerable courage and ingenuity in dealing with the wraith.”

  Again, Greymond cut in. “Chancellor Nieris, there is the University’s reputation to consider. If Mister Carver is seen…”

  “That ship is already well over the horizon, Dean Greymond,” Tane said. “If I wasn’t noticed on campus before, I promise you nobody missed me being marched here by the constabulary. Better to claim that you asked me here to assist than admit you let an expelled student—particularly this expelled student—gain access to a murder scene without permission. Especially if the Lady Protector is watching closely.” That was something of a guess, but Greymond had suggested it might be the case earlier—and if it was, the University couldn’t afford any embarrassing gaffes.

  “You do make a compelling argument for yourself, Mister Carver.” Nieris stroked his chin. “It may be prudent to keep you on, if only for appearances.”

  Indree shook her head. “With respect, Chancellor Nieris, I won’t allow this. Murder doesn’t fall under campus autonomy. This is firmly within the purview of Stooketon Yard, and I can’t have anyone interfering in my investigation.”

  “Normally you would be correct, Inspector,” said Nieris, “but the Lady Protector has taken an interest in this, as Mister Carver suggests. I spoke with her shortly before summoning you. She wants the matter resolved promptly, before anyone links it to the airship project. The launch is scheduled for the day after next, and it must not be delayed. I have been granted broad authority to speed the investigation along. Mister Carver, the University can offer you fifty staves a day—will that suffice?”

  Indree caught Tane’s eye with a glare and shook her head, but he wasn’t about to pass up an offer like that. All personal investment in the case aside, he was lucky to make fifty silver staves in a given month. “That should be… adequate. I’ll need a badge, though.”

  “And have you wandering the campus entirely unrestricted?” Nieris chuckled in mild amusement. “I admire the attempt, but I think not. It’s one thing to hire you, and another to let you display University colors. Take what’s offered, Mister Carver.”

  “Fair enough,” Tane said with a shrug. “I had to try. We have a deal.”

  “Splendid.”

  Dean Brassforge had raised his head at the mention of the airship—he’d always been reserved for a dwarf, unless he was talking about one of his projects. “So you think they were after my airship spells?” He scratched at his beard. “I don’t like that at all. She’s supposed to fly in a few days.”

  “I imagine we’ll find that it’s unrelated, Sorn,” said Nieris. “Lady Abena simply wants us to be certain. But there are a hundred other projects being worked on in that shop, and we have no reason to believe this tragedy wasn’t about some personal matter.”

  “Actually, sir,” said Indree, “if Tane’s story is true, then we have to assume this man wasn’t there to kill Allaea, or he wouldn’t have had reason to come back. I don’t think he was expecting her to be there. He must have been scared off when she screamed for the guards, and returned today to finish whatever he meant to do that night. That doesn’t mean the airship project, necessarily, but those diagrams are kept in the section where Tane says he was looking.”

  Nieris didn’t look greatly pleased, but he said, “A point well taken, Inspector Lovial. I’ll trust you and Mister Carver to look into that. Now, if you will all excuse me, I must see to the banishment of this wraith, and I don’t want to hold you up any longer. If you need anything else, I have asked Dean Greymond to act as the University’s liason in this matter—her divinations should prove useful to you.”

  The deans were the first out the door, but Indree lingered as Tane and Kadka stood. It was only then that Nieris spoke again. “Miss Kadka, if you would stay behind for one moment, please?”

  Tane exchanged a glance with Kadka as he left, but she only shrugged. Spellfire, I hope I haven’t got her in too much trouble.

  As soon as they left the chancellor’s waiting room, Indree spun to face him. She didn’t look happy.

  “Indree, I know you don’t want my—”

  Indree pressed a finger against his chest, backing him into the wall. “I don’t care what Nieris said in there. You aren’t getting involved. I just saw my best friend with the skin burned off her face”—her voice quavered slightly there, but she didn’t stop—“and I intend to find the man who did it. I don’t know why you came back, but the last thing I need is you making a mess of things.”

  It was disorienting, having her so near. The last time her face had been this close to his, it had been for very different reasons. Or maybe not. We always did argue as often as the other thing. “I’m so sorry, Indree. When I heard that it was Allaea… I just wanted to help.”

  Indree’s scowl softened, but only slightly. “So you said before. I wish I could believe that you still care that much, Tane, I really do. But how am I supposed to trust anything you say? I’ll make it simple for you: I don’t care if you take the University’s money. Just don’t get in my way.”

  The door opened behind them, and Kadka emerged. Indree backed quick
ly away from Tane, flushing slightly.

  Tane straightened his waistcoat and turned to Kadka, attempting to appear as collected as he could manage. “What did he want?”

  “To tell me I am not guard anymore,” she said. “I let you steal badge and lied to hide it. Can’t have that when security must be strongest, he says.”

  “That’s hardly fair. I’ll tell him it was my fault, he’ll have to—” Tane moved toward the door.

  Kadka blocked his way with one arm. “No. Won’t help. Is done.”

  “She’s right,” said Indree. “The chancellor isn’t going to overturn his decision for you, of all people.” A short pause, and then, to Kadka, “I’m sorry he got you into this.”

  “Got into it myself.” The corner of Kadka’s mouth quirked upward. “Even if he starts it.”

  “Either way, take my advice: get away before he makes it any worse,” said Indree. “Oh, and I had your knives delivered to the guard barracks. You can retrieve them there. I don’t know what you need so many of them for, but they’re legal enough.” She gave Tane one last look, as if she might say something more, and then shook her head and strode away down the hall.

  Tane watched her go, until Kadka stole his attention back with a nudge in the ribs. “Know she likes you now.”

  “How do you get that from what she said?”

  Kadka tapped the pointed tip of her ear with one finger. “Orc ears. Hear what she says even before I come out. Too much feeling, for someone who doesn’t care.”

  “Oh, she definitely cares, if you call wanting to break someone’s teeth a kind of caring.” Tane started toward the stairs, and Kadka kept pace beside him. “Look, Kadka, I… I am sorry it happened like that. I didn’t think they’d blame you.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Have new work now.”

  Tane raised an eyebrow. “You literally just walked out of his office. What work did you find in the past minute?”