The Flaw in All Magic (Magebreakers Book 1)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Tane stepped forward. “But you wanted me—”

  “I only asked for your help with Mister Thrung because there were no other suspects, and I had to know if he could have bypassed the wards. I admit I… I didn’t want you involved after that, but only because of our history. Tane, you must know I wouldn’t do this!” And she did seem genuinely panicked—if it was an act, he couldn’t see through it.

  Indree was watching her closely too, with that faraway diviner’s look in her eye. “And what about—”

  “I swear by the Astra, I didn’t warn Cranst you were coming!”

  “No one else knew, Liana,” said Tane. “How—”

  “I don’t know! I…” And then all the color fled her cheeks at once. “I only told one person.”

  “Who?” Indree demanded, but by the look on her face, she’d already guessed the answer, just as Tane had.

  Fear dawning in her eyes, Greymond said the only name she could have said:

  “Chancellor Nieris.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  _____

  FOR A MOMENT, Tane didn’t believe her. He wanted to, but it felt too easy. Greymond’s only way out was to blame someone else, and Brassforge and Orthea were at the table, so it had to be Nieris. If there was a more transparent excuse, he couldn’t think of it.

  Except… there was something there, a hint of memory at the back of his mind.

  Indree raised an eyebrow, outwardly skeptical. “You told—”

  “Of course I did!” Greymond exclaimed, drawing glances from the surrounding guests. “He’s the chancellor of the University! Why wouldn’t I update him on the investigation?”

  The sculpture. That was it. The Mage Emperor’s crowned staff, wrought in bronze, sitting in plain sight in the chancellor’s office. The same symbol as the one on Cranst’s badge.

  If it was true, it would be almost unbelievably arrogant for Nieris to put his true allegiance on display like that, but it also made a strange kind of sense. He was three hundred years old, chancellor of the most prestigious university of magic in the world for more than a century, among the most experienced mages alive. He dressed in clothes that princes of Rhien might have found a bit much. If any man had ever had reason to believe himself untouchable, it was Talain Nieris. Of course he wouldn’t hide who he was—he would show the world, and laugh when no one noticed.

  “There is no mage alive with as much experience in portal magic,” Tane said softly.

  Indree glanced sidelong at him. “What?”

  “That’s what Nieris said about himself, that first day in his office. Spellfire, he might as well have been bragging about it.”

  “So you believe her?”

  “I think I do,” said Tane. “Nieris could have warned Cranst, if Greymond was reporting our movements to him. He’s the one who said the howling Kadka and I heard was nothing, which is why we ignored it for so long—he was the expert, after all. By his own admission, he knows portal magic better than anyone. Who better to come up with this particular plan? And he was so keen to blame Cranst and bury any problems with the wards, as long as the launch wasn’t delayed. I thought it was just typical University arrogance and bureaucracy, but if he means to sabotage the airship…”

  Indree prodded her tongue with her cheek, thinking it over. “But why bother sending Cranst through a portal at all? If the chancellor of the University wanted airship plans, he could have just walked in and looked at them.”

  “But he couldn’t have done anything with them. The workshops were under guard. If he was seen coming and going, and then something went wrong with the airship, he’d be on the list of suspects. This way it could have been done without anyone noticing, and if someone did, he had an alibi. He made sure he and all the deans were accounted for, so we had to assume the portal wards had been beaten some other way.” The last piece fell into place then, the one thing he hadn’t been able to explain before. “That’s what Cranst was receiving. Not instructions—new diagrams. He sent them out to Nieris the first time, when he killed Allaea. The second time, he wasn’t taking anything. He was replacing the original plans with ones Nieris sent him.”

  “Then what are these?” asked Indree, tapping a finger against the airship plans poking from her handbag.

  “The originals,” said Tane. “They must be. Cranst couldn’t leave them behind, or someone would have noticed there were duplicates. He must have taken them the day Kadka and I found him in the workshop.”

  “This is absurd,” interrupted Dean Brassforge. “You’re saying my airship plans were replaced? By the chancellor? Which plans? Why?”

  “The heating glyphs for the envelope,” said Tane. “They wanted diagrams for vital airship spells, and Allaea would have had these ones out already. After she alerted the guard, there wasn’t time to search for more.” And then the full implication hit him. “Spellfire, Nieris was never planning to sabotage the airship at the ceremony. He’s already done it. If Cranst made the exchange, then the final heating glyphs came from their diagram, not Allaea’s!”

  “Impossible!” said Brassforge, his cheeks flushing beneath his auburn beard. “We would have noticed—”

  “Would you?” Tane rounded on Brassforge, his voice rising. He’d seen this happen before—it was the ancryst rail all over again. “The spell diagrams were already finalized. That’s why Cranst chose that evening—no one should have been working on them by then. Tell me, Dean Brassforge, after you’d given your approval, would you have been the one looking at those plans? Do you and your mages tend to build your ancryst machines with your own hands?”

  Brassforge—never particularly verbose—could only stammer under Tane’s sudden anger. “I… We don’t—”

  “No. You don’t. Workers and engineers and mechanics do that part, and none of them have any magecraft. By now they’ll have scribed the glyphs exactly as the diagram says, because how would they know not to? You say you would have noticed, but the truth is that if it wasn’t for Allaea working too late that night, you’d never have known anything was wrong!”

  “I told her,” Indree whispered. “I told her she was giving too much time to those stupid glyphs.” And then she set her jaw, slung her handbag over her shoulder, and drew her pistol from within. “We need to find Nieris. He does not get away with this.” Looking to the deans, she demanded, “Where is he?”

  Dean Orthea looked entirely lost, her lovely lips hanging agape. “He… He was here earlier, but we haven’t seen him for… a quarter hour, perhaps. He was with Lady Abena.”

  “Let me,” Greymond said. Her eyes clouded for a moment, and then she frowned. “I… can’t locate either of them. They’re nearby, but their Astral signatures are clouded.”

  “Spellfire!” Indree swore. “He must have seen us already. And if the Lady Protector is masked too… damn it, he has her!” She swept her eyes over the disguised constables surrounding the table. “I want all eyes looking for the chancellor and Lady Abena. And tell any Mageblades you find to get word to their commander: we need them to ground that airship.”

  “Wait,” Tane said, and Indree looked at him, raising a hand to belay her order. “That’s it, Indree. The airship. If Nieris thinks we’re coming for him, that’s where he’ll be. He knows he can’t wait for the launch anymore—he’s going to have to do it himself!”

  “Come on!” Indree was already moving, hitching up her dress and sprinting toward the drydock at the edge of the ceremony grounds, where the airship sat waiting. Tane and the rest of her detail followed behind.

  A pair of human Mageblades stood guard over the ramp leading to the steel entry hatch in the airship’s side. It stood open, ready for boarding during the launch ceremony. The wood-and-steel hull towered overhead, braced in the drydock, and at this distance the light reflecting from the envelope cast everything in shimmering silver.

  The Mageblades moved to block the ramp as they approached, and both put hands to their pistols when they saw Indree’s already drawn.
<
br />   “Stop!” called the man on the left, bald and broad-shouldered. “Drop your weapon!”

  Indree held up her badge. “Constable Inspector Indree Lovial. Have you seen the Lady Protector?”

  The second Mageblade, a sturdy brown-haired woman, nodded her head. “She just came aboard, with Chancellor Nieris. What is this about?”

  “We have reason to believe the chancellor may mean her harm,” said Indree. “I’m going to need you to let us by. Send to your commander. Tell him to get everyone here, right now. We have to clear the airship and keep it grounded.”

  “Lady Abena didn’t show any sign of distress,” the bald man said. “We were told the chancellor had something to show her before the launch. She left orders not to let anyone—”

  “I’m not just anyone,” said Indree. “The Lady Protector personally asked me to lead this detail. We don’t have time for this!”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we need authorization from Commander Tavis to let you on board,” the bald man said flatly.

  “So get it! Isn’t that what I just asked you to do?” Exasperation colored Indree’s voice. “If he doesn’t believe me, tell him to try and contact Lady Abena. He’ll find someone is masking her.”

  The bald man nodded at his partner; she concentrated a moment, and then her eyes glazed with the sending.

  Tane shifted his feet impatiently as the woman questioned Indree and relayed the answers to her commander. This was taking too long, and Nieris wasn’t going to wait for their convenience. He’d been trying very hard not to think of Kadka—of the way she’d looked at him when he left her behind—but in that moment he couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t have any patience for this. And he could imagine very easily what she’d have done in his place. He glanced at the female Mageblade’s clouded eyes, and then down to her waist, where a pair of ancryst pistols were slung over either hip.

  There was one sure way to make the Mageblades seize the airship.

  They just needed an obvious threat.

  The woman was still distracted by her sending when Tane darted forward. He shouldered her to one side and lifted a pistol from her hip in a single motion. The bald Mageblade jabbed out a hand to grab him. Tane felt fingers brush his back, but they found no purchase, and then it was too late. He was already by, sprinting up the ramp.

  “Stop!” the Mageblade bellowed, and then a sound of metal on leather—almost certainly an ancryst pistol being drawn. “One more step and I’ll shoot!”

  Tane ducked his head, and kept running.

  “Wait!” Indree’s voice. A quick flurry of noise, and then a startled grunt. A pistol-ball threw splinters from the wooden hull ahead, significantly off-target.

  Footsteps behind, then, moving quickly. They were following. Good. Close at his back, someone was chanting words in the lingua, but spells took time, and it wasn’t a terribly long ramp. He was nearly at the door.

  Astra, please just keep them from shooting me for a little bit longer.

  This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Even if he didn’t get himself killed, there would be consequences later. But if it got Indree and the Mageblades on board before Nieris launched the ship, it would be worth it. Sometimes talking worked, or knowledge, or clever tricks, but sometimes there was only Kadka’s way: charge at the problem with your teeth bared and punch it in the throat.

  Tane lunged through the door into the body of the airship. A short magelit hall led further in, with a brass railing running down both sides. It branched in three directions just ahead; he started toward the junction. He had to lead them to the bridge—that was where Nieris would be, if he meant to launch the ship.

  A loud thud and clang from behind stopped him in his tracks. He knew what it was even before he turned. No. Not now.

  The hatch was closed, slammed shut by some invisible force. He was alone.

  The floor lurched beneath his feet.

  The airship began to rise.

  _____

  Kadka stalked along the fence just outside the perimeter established by the Mageblades.

  A crowd of onlookers milled about in her path, pointing and gawking up at the airship—the first time she’d seen the people of Thaless react properly to an obvious wonder of magic. When they saw her coming, most took one look at her face and gave her ample room to pass. They saw an orc, and they moved in the other direction. Not very nice, but useful just then. If they didn’t get out of the way, she pushed them aside herself, which did nothing to stop the nervous looks aimed at her.

  But she was used to that. It wasn’t resentment driving her forward, it was urgency. She needed to find a way into the ceremony, and there wasn’t any time to waste. Carver was going to get himself in trouble, and if she wasn’t there…

  Carver. That vekad fool of an idiot. Too clever to realize how stupid he was. She’d never been quick to anger, but when she found him again, he’d be lucky if she didn’t break his nose.

  He didn’t get to decide she wasn’t a part of this anymore. She’d witnessed magic in these last few days she never would have seen standing watch over doors all day. People had tried to kill her, and that needed answering. She wasn’t ready for it to be over. She wasn’t done.

  She’d circled almost all the way around the fence now, drawing near the drydock where the airship waited. She couldn’t see any break in the security. For a moment, she considered diving into the harbor to approach from the water, where the Mageblades were fewer. But even if she wasn’t seen, she would still have to contend with the dome of magical energy over the ceremony grounds.

  She wasn’t done, but she couldn’t see any way forward, either.

  As consolation, she allowed herself a brief glance up at the airship’s shining envelope. At least she’d gotten to see it like this, illuminated by magelight, reflecting silver radiance all across the harborfront. It was beautiful against the starlit sky.

  And it was moving.

  Kadka blinked, squinted her eyes. Had she imagined it? No, it was moving, lifting out of the drydock. The activity among the crowd intensified—frantic gestures, cries and shouts of “It’s starting!” and “Look, son, this is it!”

  They thought this was the launch, happening as scheduled. But something was wrong.

  The airship was still tethered.

  The first line broke free on the corner of the drydock nearest Kadka, and then another followed, and another. The airship rose slowly, moving away from the harbor toward the city. The Mageblades were mobilizing now, pushing people out of the ship’s path, but there was little they could do—they were as helpless to stop it as everyone else.

  One of the broken tether-lines drifted by over Kadka’s head, and she followed without thinking. She only knew two things: first, that the airship wasn’t supposed to be moving; second, that if it was, Carver was probably on board, and in some kind of danger.

  And as much as she wanted to kick him in the head just then, he was going to need her.

  The tether-line was already a full body-length above her, but she sprinted after it anyway, picking up speed as she moved. A towering ogren in a gryphon-etched Mageblade cuirass was trying to clear the crowd; he saw her coming, and stepped into her path. Kadka didn’t slow down.

  “Stop, ma’am,” the ogren ordered in a deep, harmonious voice. He bent to catch her, a nine-foot statue carved of flawless marble dropping to one knee. “You need to clear—”

  Kadka bared her teeth in a wide grin and jumped straight at him. The ogren’s eyes widened in surprise. She kicked off his grasping arm—startlingly firm and strong under her feet—and bounded to the lowered shoulder of his brass cuirass like she was climbing a staircase. He straightened, lifting her higher still as he reached up to grab her.

  He was too late.

  Arms outstretched, Kadka leapt for the trailing tether-line.

  Chapter Eighteen

  _____

  TANE’S STOMACH LEAPT into his throat as the floor swayed beneath him. His vision spun. He h
ated travelling by ancryst machine at the best of times; this might well have been the worst. He thrust the stolen ancryst pistol into his pocket and grasped the brass rail that ran along the hall to keep himself upright.

  Pressure built in his ears, and then a voice from nowhere spoke in his head. “Mister Carver. I hoped you would come.”

  The pressure didn’t abate; the link was still open. “Nieris.” Tane clenched his eyes shut and touched the watch case in his waist pocket with two fingers, but the voice he sent was as calm as he could manage. “What do you want?”

  “For you to join me and the Lady Protector on the bridge. She would very much appreciate if you came quickly and agreeably.”

  “Because you’ll hurt her if I don’t, you mean?” The pressure of the sending was making his nausea worse; sweat beaded on his forehead. But still, he didn’t let Nieris hear it. “Why mince words at this point?”

  “I am a civilized man, Mister Carver. I dislike making vulgar threats. Please, don’t keep us waiting.”

  Tane’s ears popped, and the presence in his head was gone. Gasping with relief, he slumped to the floor and put his back to the wall. His head dropped between his knees, and he held it there until his breathing slowed.

  Collect yourself, Carver. Lady Abena’s life is at stake. He pushed himself upright and grabbed hold of the rail, gripping it with white-knuckled desperation. At least I won’t fall on my ass if— Something shook the airship; the hall moved suddenly underfoot. He clutched tight to the rail and rode it out. I swear by the Astra, if I survive this, I’m never setting foot on an airship again.

  Shuffling along the rail, he started down the hall that he guessed would bring him toward the bridge. A stairway at the far end led to an upper level.

  He hadn’t gone far when the pressure in his ears returned. Astra, not again.

  “Tane!” Indree’s voice. That wasn’t so bad. “I couldn’t reach you! I thought… Are you alright?”

  “I’m on the first flight of an untested, presumably sabotaged airship,” he answered, continuing on past the heavy steel hatches that lined the hall on both sides. “I wouldn’t say I’m alright. But I’m not hurt.”