The Flaw in All Magic (Magebreakers Book 1)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Kadka started in her chair and jerked her head around as if she expected to see someone behind her. “Who is there?” She smacked her ear with one hand, and then looked back at Bastian, as nonplussed as Tane had yet seen her. “Is… is your voice? In my head?”

  Bastian chuckled. “Only a simple sending. I apologize, but I had to check.” Sendings were a kind of divination, like any magic that sought a target through the Astra—apparently a divination focus was enough to locate Kadka even through the masking of her half-orc blood.

  A brief silence, and then Kadka cackled aloud at something Tane couldn’t hear. “You are funny, little man. But for today, I need no work.”

  “A pity,” Bastian said. “But hope remains for another day! Now, if you won’t accept my offer, I suppose it is time we discussed why the two of you are here. Something to do with the tragic events at the University last night, I expect?”

  “You’re… well informed,” said Tane. “How do you know about that already?”

  “Sendings travel quickly, my friend! In this city, no secret lasts much longer than it takes for the bluecaps to arrive. And your own presence hardly went unnoticed, either. But I can’t imagine what you think I had to do with it!”

  Tane produced the scrollcaster from behind his back. “This is your work, isn’t it? It was found at the scene.”

  Bastian flitted to the arm of Tane’s chair and examined the brass case. “Mine, certainly. Notice the peridot? Something of a signature. I find the balance of power and affordability quite ideal—and I am somewhat fond of the color!” He beamed broadly and patted his green waistcoat. “Now, if I might surmise: you are wondering if I sent someone to relay certain highly valuable spells to me via this scrollcaster. Spells, perhaps, relating to the majestic airship being constructed across the harbor?”

  “It… has been suggested,” Tane said cautiously.

  “Well put your minds at ease! I may be a criminal, but I am also a patriot! Where else could I live as I do but in the Protectorate? In Rhien I would always be watched; in Belgrier my kind live in ghettos, hardly suited to free trade. And let us not forget Estia, where non-humans are stopped at the border. No, I support Lady Abena and her airship wholeheartedly. A more prosperous Audland benefits all of us!” He laid a finger alongside his nose and gave an exaggerated wink under his mask. “And of course, my business will hardly suffer from increased trade with the Continent. I may not wish to live there, but where magic is restricted, magical goods sell at… rather exorbitant prices.”

  Tane was inclined to believe him. There was no sign that the little man was lying—whatever else he was, he genuinely considered himself a devoted citizen. “Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to help us. Can you tell us who bought this case?”

  There, Bastian hesitated. “Now that is a delicate matter. I can hardly expect my business to prosper if it becomes known I am willing to reveal the names of my customers.”

  Tane leaned forward in his chair. “Can you expect it to prosper if the bluecaps start looking into what your product was doing in the workshop?” No need to mention that the bluecaps didn’t actually know about the scrollcaster. “And they certainly will. They are under some pressure to resolve this quickly.”

  Bastian wrung his hands and paced along the arm of the chair, fluttering his wings erratically. “Oh dear. I was worried about that. I do want to help, of course, but…”

  “Bastian, the Protectorate needs you. Lady Abena is very concerned about this—I was brought in under her authority.” That was stretching the truth more than a bit, but Tane thought he had the measure of the man now—a representative of the Lady Protector could be just the person to convince him. “I believe you when you say you’re a patriot, and a patriot answers when his country calls. Do the right thing.”

  Bastian puffed out his chest and bobbed his head enthusiastically. “You’re right, Mister Carver! This is no time for selfishness! A girl has been killed, and the future of the Protectorate is at stake! Never let it be said that I quailed from my duty to my homeland!” He rose into the air, and beckoned them to follow. “Come, come! Bring the scrollcaster!”

  Tane and Kadka followed him across the workshop, and as they passed, both of them examined the various artifacts spread across the tables—Tane with mild interest and Kadka with open curiosity. Charms, mostly: spells written on rolls of paper no bigger than Tane’s little finger, wax-sealed and set with a small gem or crystal—rarely more than a quartz shard. When the seal was broken, the gem was consumed to power a single-use magical effect. There were dozens of them, identified in plain Audish on their seals: darkness charms, flash charms, shield charms, repulsion charms, and more.

  Bastian led them to a small pillar at the back, much like the one in the library area. Atop it sat a small worktable covered in sprite-sized tools. He landed behind the little table and gestured toward it. “Place it here, if you will.”

  Tane laid the scrollcaster down on the table—it was rather too long, extending over the edge on both sides. Too large for the little sprite’s hands, too, but Bastian uttered a spell and the brass tube levitated into the air, moving as he directed. With various instruments, he began to probe the dials and gemstone. And as he worked, he talked. “I remember the lad. He came in perhaps two weeks ago. I don’t have much to tell you. He wore a… a kind of cowl that covered his face, and he gave no name. He paid a high price to waive the requirement of a divination focus, as well. I didn’t think much of it, at the time—customers often want to keep their identities hidden, and I am a businessman.”

  This can’t be a dead end. It’s all I’ve got. “Is there anything you can tell us that might identify him?”

  “He may have been a student at the University. He was young, I think. He fidgeted a great deal. Educated in magical matters by the way he spoke, but he didn’t give me the impression of great experience.”

  “That’s useful. Anything else? Did he buy anything besides the scrollcaster?” By way of example, Tane picked up a brass ball a little smaller than the palm of his hand from the table of charms. The clockwork key jutting from one side identified it as a charmglobe. A charm placed inside could be activated at a short delay set by winding the key. When it wound down, the ball would open and a brass lever within would break the charm’s seal, activating it. And as an added benefit, the brass insulated whatever was inside against detection spells. Quite illegal, outside of the Protectorate’s military—they served little purpose besides weaponizing charms. He tossed it absently from hand to hand a few times.

  “No devices or artifacts,” said Bastian, “but a number of components which might have been used for the construction of any long-term spell. Wards or the like.” He set aside his tools with a sigh. “I had hoped, but… there’s no way to trace where the caster sent last, I’m afraid. The sending and receiving glyphs have been changed. But I may yet be able to recreate what was sent, if you leave it with me.”

  “How long?”

  “Two days, perhaps.”

  Kadka eyed Bastian with suspicion. “How do we know you don’t just keep, tell us nothing?”

  Bastian put a hand to his chest and fluttered his wings. “My dear Kadka, you wound me to my core! I thought we had an understanding! How can you think I would lie to you?”

  She grinned. “Like you, little man. Doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  “Beauty, strength, and wisdom,” Bastian said wistfully. “If only I could convince you to lend them to my service. But I’m afraid all I have to offer you is my word.”

  “Then it will have to be enough,” said Tane. If Bastian was up to something, he was an extremely credible liar, and either way the scrollcaster wasn’t much use without him. “But as soon as you find anything, I want to know. You shouldn’t have any trouble contacting us with a sending.”

  “Of course, of course!” Bastian enthused, fluttering from his table. “Is there anything else?”

  Tane glanced at the charmglobe in his hand, and then at the ch
arms spread across the worktables. With one notable exception, he’d been in more danger today than ever before in his life. It wouldn’t hurt to be better prepared next time. I’d rather not rely on someone else’s spells, but… what did Kadka say? Good to use what is useful.

  “I might need a few things,” he said.

  Chapter Eight

  _____

  “YOU COULD HAVE gotten us killed,” Tane insisted, walking beside Kadka down the darkened street.

  “But if they come to kill us, maybe I stop them,” she said. “You would not be so angry then.”

  Tane sighed. It was pointless to argue with her. He hadn’t known Kadka for long, but one thing was already clear: she didn’t waste much time on doubt. “Just… let me try to talk to the next people who attack us, maybe.”

  She shrugged. “We will see. Some things, talk does not change.”

  That was probably the best he was going to get, so he let it be.

  Evening had descended, and what sinking light remained in the sky couldn’t force its way into the cracks of Porthaven’s narrow streets and alleys. In the poorer districts, magelight had yet to replace the cheap oil-fuelled street lamps, dim and flickering and spaced so far apart that they served little purpose but to spoil Tane’s night vision. And it didn’t help that he was distracted, thinking about what Bastian had told them.

  “Watch out,” said Kadka, and nudged him around a pothole. She had no trouble with the dark—orcish night vision was evidently quite strong. “Thinking instead of looking, yes? About masked mage? Where to look next?”

  Tane nodded. “It makes some sense if he’s a student, like Bastian said. We know he can use magic, and he seemed to know what he was looking for and where to find it, which implies some knowledge of the University. It doesn’t explain why he had a badge that got him into the room, though. A graduate student might have had access for a project, but that would only have worked the first time. When you and I caught him, the wards were set to keep student badges out. The only people who should have been able to get in were constables, heads of the University, and the Guard.”

  “But guard has no mages, and deans all have other stories.”

  “Right. And a constable would have been better trained in combat magic, among other things. Which doesn’t get us anywhere. If we assume the badge was stolen by a student—I got in with yours, after all—it opens up possibilities. But even with a badge, if he somehow found a way to open a portal into the workshop, he’d need a place to cast it from. He couldn’t do it anywhere on campus without being noticed. The components he bought must have been to cast new wards on a bolthole somewhere, and to prepare his portal.”

  “So maybe we look for student who is gone too much in last weeks. Warding lair, making plans.”

  Tane nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking. They’ll have attendance records at the University. It’s a start, at least. But I still can’t figure out how he opened the portal.”

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “Very strange.” There was something cursory to it, like she’d stopped listening. Her head was slightly cocked.

  “Kadka, what—”

  “Pretend nothing is wrong,” she whispered. “Hear someone following. On roof.”

  Tane forced himself to keep walking at the same pace. “Could it be one of Bastian’s?” he asked under his breath. But he suspected they weren’t so lucky. There was no one else in sight in either direction—this would be the perfect time and place for an ambush.

  “No. Would have heard sooner. Coming from other side.”

  Tane felt for the stolen daze-wand tucked into the back of his belt under his waistcoat, still probably good for one more charge. If he was lucky. His other hand slipped into his pocket, searching for the charms and charmglobe he’d bought from Bastian. All at a steep discount, of course, for a representative of Lady Abena, but still he’d only been able to afford three charms: shield, flash, and darkness. They all felt the same, just sealed rolls of paper. There was no way to identify them by touch. Surreptitiously, he drew one out and glanced at the writing on the seal, hoping for the shield charm. But it was too dark—he couldn’t read it.

  And then, suddenly, there was light, silver and blinding.

  Before he understood what was happening, Kadka sprang into motion, pushing him to his knees behind her. Bright silver flames flared from the rooftop. She half-turned, leaning over Tane and shielding her face.

  A gout of spellfire roared across her back.

  “Kadka!” Tane shouted. He pulled out a charm, read the seal by the pulsing silver light. Shield. Thank the Astra. He crushed the seal in his fist, and a shimmering barrier of force surrounded them.

  Silver fire licked along the outside of the shield for an instant longer, and then blinked out as if it had never been there. Tane leapt to his feet and spun to face Kadka, expecting the worst. Blackened flesh melting from cracked, crumbling bone. Just like Allaea. Not that. Not again.

  She was entirely untouched. The flames hadn’t burned her at all. She looked as surprised as he was, probing her shoulder where the flesh should have been seared away.

  Impossible. Her masked Astral link might protect against divinations, but spellfire was physical. It should have killed her. Unless… he was aiming for me. Spellfire only burned what it was told to burn—their attacker must have been too precise in naming his target. He hadn’t predicted Kadka getting in the way. But she had no way of knowing that.

  As soon as she realized she was unharmed, Kadka drew a knife from her sleeve with a flick of the wrist and hurled it through the darkness at the source of the spellfire. The blade passed silently through the shield—the charm only kept things out, not in.

  No sound, no scream. An instant later, the sound of the knife skipping across the rooftop.

  “Come out!” Kadka shouted. “Poska! Fight me where I can see!”

  No answer.

  Not aloud, anyway.

  A sudden pressure in Tane’s ears, and then a voice spoke in his head. “Forget the scrollcaster. Leave this investigation alone.” The mage had to be near, still—without sufficient familiarity or a focus, finding an Astral signature to send to or divine from was only possible at close range. Tane swept his eyes over the rooftops, but he couldn’t see anything in the dark. “This is your only warning. The next time, you won’t be so lucky.” Clear as diamond, an image flashed across his mind: a door in a brick-front building, the same as any of the identical narrow single-room homes on either side, joined together in one long row. Only the number painted on the letter-box by the door distinguished it from the others.

  17.

  His number. The office he rented near the docks.

  Then, a burst of intense pain, like a spike driving through both temples. “Ahh!” Tane bent over, gripping his head in both hands.

  “Carver?” Kadka knelt in front of him. “What is wrong?”

  The intensity faded as quickly as it had come, but it left a pulsing ache behind. “N—nothing. Just… a sending. Is he still…”

  Kadka shook her head. “Gone. Heard him running. Maybe wasn’t expecting… this.” She gestured at the shimmering barrier around them.

  Tane straightened up and rolled his head from side to side. It didn’t help the headache. “Kadka, you… you jumped in front of spellfire for me.” He paused, and then, “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

  Kadka shrugged. “Felt like thing to do. Why doesn’t it burn?”

  “It would have, if he’d been any smarter about phrasing the spell! If he hadn’t specified me as the target, you’d be dead!”

  “I should have let you try to talk to fire instead?” She flashed her wide, toothy grin.

  “No, that’s not…” Tane let the sentence drift away unfinished. Just like before, there was no point in arguing with her. His head hurt and he could still feel his heart beating against his chest, but he had to laugh. “I mean, thank you. Obviously. But please, in the future, try not to get yourself killed on my acco
unt.”

  “Don’t stand in front of spell, then,” Kadka said. “What was sending? Way you shout, it sounds painful.”

  Tane frowned. “He wants us to drop the investigation. Forget the scrollcaster, he said. Then there was an image of the place where I live, and… pain.” Just thinking about it made him wince.

  “Pain? This is possible? Why not do that when we fight him?”

  “He’d have to be focused on the Astra to send. When you see that distant look in a mage’s eyes, that’s what they’re doing—looking past the physical world. Not ideal in the middle of a fight. But outside of one, just about anything can be sent. Words, images, emotions, sensations. Some of it isn’t legal, but I don’t think our mage cares very much about that.”

  “Talking of mage, we should not stay here. Don’t know how long—” Before Kadka could finish, the shield blinked out of existence. “Ah. Not long. You have place to go?”

  “My office isn’t far,” said Tane. “We’ll be safe there.”

  “You mean place he showed you?” She raised an eyebrow. “One place where he knows to find you?”

  “If he tries anything, he’ll be disappointed. I’d trust my wards against any mage in this city. I designed them myself.” He didn’t keep them up unless he needed them—couldn’t afford to replace the gems regularly—but this definitely merited the cost.

  “But—”

  Tane didn’t wait for her to finish. His head was still throbbing. “Come on,” he said, starting down the street. “I need a drink.”

  Chapter Nine

  _____

  “IT DOESN’T MAKE sense!” Tane threw the spell diagram down on his desk and took another swig of whiskey—no aged Belgrian, but the cheap local stuff dulled the pain in his temples just as well. “I can’t find the problem. He shouldn’t have been able to open that portal.”

  The ward diagrams had been delivered to his letterbox while he and Kadka were out, as Dean Greymond had promised. Tane had been looking them over for the past quarter hour or so, but he couldn’t see the answer he was looking for, and he was getting frustrated. Usually he could find the flaw in a spell at a glance.