The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3)

by Honor Raconteur

  She hadn’t been kidding earlier with Morgan. She had far too many questions, and not enough answers.

  Taking in a deep breath, she set her mind to working on the problem at hand. There would be many questions that she couldn’t answer today, but Sevana was determined to at least answer one of them before the day was out.

  Morgan could work miracles when he put his mind to it. Within the course of a day, he found another painting and brought it promptly to her. Sevana was delighted by the find for the simple fact that another painting meant more data. She needed data desperately as she could only figure out so much from a single painting.

  This new addition was of an older woman in her middle years, sitting down with a basket of snap peas in her lap. She was intent on her work, nothing about her position suggesting that she was even aware of the world around her. The magician had caught this woman because she had been too busy and occupied to look up.

  The similarities between this one and the portrait of the boy were startling. The name was backward, the style was the same, and the spell elements were identical. There were, however, differences.

  Sevana used her box lens, then her diagnostic wand, and made comparisons. Oh yes, there were differences, although they were mostly slight—so slight that they didn’t make an overall difference in the scheme of things. But she found the differences interesting, and more importantly, they told her information she hadn’t known before.

  Firuz knocked timidly on her door before sticking his head cautiously inside. “Sevana?”

  “Come in,” she encouraged with nothing more than a quick glance up. “I’m not doing anything sensitive or dangerous right now.”

  Relieved, he pushed the door aside and stepped all the way in. “Have you found anything?”

  “Quite a bit, which I hadn’t expected.” Flipping a page, she put her journal from the boy’s portrait side by side with the new journal she had just used for the woman’s. “To start, the paper is different.”

  Firuz stared at both portraits dubiously. “That’s important?”

  “More than you might think. It means the paper is unimportant. I won’t have to take its makeup into consideration at all when I go to undo the spell.” Seeing that he only half understood her, she gave a sigh. “I suppose I need to explain that better.”

  He gave her a twisted smile. “If you would.”

  “The more convoluted a spell is, the harder it is to counter and undo.” In an effort to put it into terms he would understand and skip a tedious explanation, she offered a metaphor. “When you’re sitting down at a council, wanting to get something done, which is easier? A room of twenty men or a small council of three?”

  “Three, of course.” His eyes narrowed, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Because that way I only have to balance the history, agendas, and personalities of those three. Is it the same with spell elements?”

  “Exactly the same. You have to consider what blends well, what reacts badly, and what has the power to be effective. It’s easier to do if you have few elements in the original spell.” Relieved he was on the same page as her, she went on. “Right now, I have three elements to contend with, and I’m thankful that’s the case. It makes life much easier.” Turning back to the portraits, she pointed to the woman. “Now, this one is rougher. The style has more problems with it, the way that the spell is attached to the paper is slightly more coarse. I’m thinking this is older, perhaps the fourth or fifth attempt on the magician’s part.”

  “You see that much of a skill difference between the two?”

  “I do. He learns quickly, this man, and his style is adaptive. It means he’s very talented, not just intelligent.” As an afterthought, she added, “Curse him. I hate people like him.”

  “Because they use their talents to thwart you?” Firuz hazarded.

  “I do love how quickly you pick up on matters. Yes, exactly. Still and all, just one more portrait has told me quite a bit. I can’t wait for Kip to find more.”

  “Your man Morgan has proven to be quite effective. I’m grateful you brought him in.”

  So was she. “I still don’t have an answer on what this portrait does. Is it a transmutation spell or a transportation one of some sort? Until I know that, I can’t take the risk of taking these portraits through my clocks. I might warp them.”

  Firuz blanched. “Please don’t,” he choked.

  Her mouth tipped up. “No worries, I’m not about to try it. Although when it comes time to take them all back to my workshop, I’ll have to figure out how—”

  “Sevana.” The Caller on the table abruptly went live, assuming Master’s features and standing. Unusually, he was dressed in a fine three piece suit, hair combed back, and looking over all presentable.

  His tone, the way that he was standing so taut and alert, screamed at her. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands and leaned in, demanding, “What is it?”

  “The Belen King is missing.”

  Firuz let out a curse hot enough to strip the paint off the walls. Sevana felt her head spin for a second, pieces flying about and settling into a strange premonition. “How?”

  “I have an ink portrait of him, does that answer the question?”

  Suddenly, it all made sense. “Of course,” she breathed, mostly to herself. “Of course. All of these other portraits were trial runs, proof of theory, nothing more. He was slowly scaling up, seeing how far his spell could push past any magical defenses.”

  “Princess Amas was a test to him, nothing more,” Master concurred, tone dark and grim. “She was there to prove that he could get past the magical protections of a royal. His true aim was the Belen King.”

  “We don’t know that,” she corrected automatically, although a part of her suspected he was right. “He might be after more than one king.”

  Master growled. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you make a good point, sweetling. I’ll contact the others, put them on their guards as well. But I now need everything you know.”

  “I don’t have much more to tell you, more than we have already discussed,” she phrased carefully, hyper aware of the king at her back. “I have found out a few things. The paper changes from portrait to portrait, so that’s not important. His style was definitely evolving, so he’s not artistic by nature, he developed the talent just for this job. Also, the name is spelled backwards for each portrait. Somehow, that’s important.”

  “Do you know which type of spell we’re dealing with?”

  She shook her head, frustrated. “No. Master, don’t risk taking this portrait through one of my clocks. I have a bad feeling about it.”

  “I don’t dare. I’ll take it by carriage. Sweetling, all things considered, I think it’s best to work on this problem from your workshop. I’ll head for Big immediately.”

  “I’ve got Kip down here looking for other portraits, but I can meet you in Big in about four days.”

  “It might take me that long to get there. Things are very chaotic here.”

  Yes, so she could imagine. “Do you want to call Pierpoint and warn him along with everyone else?”

  “I have nothing else to do but make calls during the trip,” he pointed out. “Your time is best used analyzing and giving me information as you can.”

  She felt the same way but wanted to make sure that he understood just who he had to talk to. Sevana was slightly fond of the people in that particular family, and she didn’t want Pierpoint sleeping on the job. “Then go pack.”

  “How fragile is the portrait?”

  Valid question. “I’m pretty sure you could use it as a corner stone under a palace and it would be just fine. The spell keeps it intact. But I wouldn’t take chances with it.”

  “I wasn’t planning to, sweetling,” Master drawled. He sounded ever so slightly relieved, which made her suspect that something stupid had happened to the portrait, but she wasn’t curious enough to ask. “I’ll slide it into a tube, then. Easier to transport. You
have nothing else to tell me about this? Nothing else I need to know?”

  “Sadly, no. I need to talk to certain experts before I have a full understanding of what I’m dealing with. But I want at least two more portraits before I speak with them. The more information we can give them, the better.”

  “Wait for one more,” Master instructed. “After all, I’m bringing one with me. But if you don’t get it by tomorrow, leave for Big. We need to know how to reverse this quickly. I can’t imagine what kind of evil is being worked while a king is dethroned.”

  That was a thought that Sevana had been carefully skirting around because it scared her as well. “It’s Kip looking, he’ll find me another one before tomorrow.” She had complete faith in that. “Do me a favor, though. When you arrive, make sure that all of the saplings planted along the edge of Noppers Woods were done right. I want the Fae to be happy with me when I get back home.”

  “Of course, sweetling,” he assured her. “Now, go. We both have things to do.”

  “You’re the one still standing around chatting.”

  Master mustered a chuckle before sticking his tongue at her. The Caller abruptly went still as he cut the connection.

  Sevana turned to Firuz, who still looked as if someone was shaking the world at random angles on him. “Gather your court magicians. I don’t know how this spell worked, not entirely, but I want to sit down and re-examine your wards so that we can come up with a way of blocking the next attempt on your family.”

  “I’ll send them to you.” The words weren’t even out of his mouth before he rushed for the door.

  Glancing at the portraits, she growled, “Well, just this gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sevana spent the rest of the day with the two court magicians and none of them enjoyed it.

  Few people responded well when another person, even an expert, pointed out all of the flaws in their work. Sevana understood that. But these two literally wanted to turn a deaf ear to her. She had to resort to browbeating and threats to get through to them. Finally, she turned it into a competition—build a defense she couldn’t break through.

  They lost. Miserably.

  Every time they did, they’d growl, and huff, and stalk off to a corner to rework the protections. Sevana would spend her time working on another attack, sometimes an eerie replica of other curses that had succeeded in penetrating a royal’s protection. Then the court magicians would come back, confident, only to be destroyed once again.

  It was a tedious, painful process. Painful for them, tedious for her. But by the time midnight tolled out, Sevana was more secure with the shields they had devised. It would take true skill, sneakiness, and violating about a dozen magical rules to be able to get through these shields.

  The court magicians were worn out but elated that they had finally come up with something that would stop her. Sevana sent them off to bed with smiles on their faces. She should have done the same, but found that her mind was too keyed up to go to bed as well. And her sleep cycle was completely messed up now after pulling all-nighters and sleeping at odd times of the day.

  Sevana wandered down to the palace kitchens, more for a lack of anything more constructive to do than actual hunger. Even at this dark hour of the night, there were still two women in there working, which made sense after she thought about it. The men on night watch would still break for meals after all. Someone had to be around to cook for them.

  They greeted her with wary respect, and the expressions on their faces made it clear that even in the presence of only women, she had to keep her hat on. Disgruntled by that, she cocked it at an angle, letting some of her head breathe at least. She requested a plate of something simple, and they gave her that fruity bread she’d had earlier and a different version of the mango-lemon water Xald had introduced her to. The snack was light and filling, exactly what she needed. Finding an empty spot at one of the work tables, Sevana relished every bite as she sat there and thought.

  In the quietness of the night, with chopping and stirring sounds in the background, she found it easier to think than she’d had during the light of day. Not having any demands on her attention might have something to do with that as well.

  How far did this magician’s plans go? Was he content with taking out a king, or would he do it with other people as well? If his game plan was to take out all of the ruling kings, surely he would have done something with the Sa Kaon king as well. No one had known at first that the princess was missing. An ink portrait like that would only take an hour or two for a skilled artist. He wasn’t a professional, but his quality of work wasn’t on a level that would take more time than that either. Say, three hours on the outside. So, three hours to sit and paint the king. Surely he could have finagled that, somehow.

  If he didn’t bother to do so, then did that mean only the Belen king was the target? Was this something he was hired to do, or was it something else? Some goal of his own?

  A familiar set of footsteps rang from the hallway before Morgan appeared in the doorway. “Sevana. Finally.”

  Glass in hand, she twisted in her chair to look at him. “Kip. Looking for me?”

  “Can’t you be in bed like a normal person?”

  “That sounds boring. I’d rather not.”

  Clicking his tongue in exasperation, he moved to join her at the table. “I have some possibly good news for you.”

  “I could use some right now.”

  He flopped into a chair, skin ruddier than usual from a sunburn, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a fine layer of dust on him. Morgan looked as if he had been running in circles in a desert. Well, he had been, come to think of it. “I didn’t find any other paintings in the market today, but I talked to a merchant that had bought a few of them off a painter as he was leaving town. He shipped them out to another city. He’s having them all brought back tomorrow morning, so I might be able to give you several at once, if it turns out to be the right ones.”

  “You think they are, though.”

  “Fairly certain of it,” Morgan affirmed wearily. “The description of the painter he gave me matched the one Captain Kamran had, and the timing fits very neatly. So. What did you find out today?”

  “Important things, one of them good, most of them bad.”

  “Start with the good,” Morgan requested, snagging her glass and draining it.

  Sevana tapped an irritated finger against the table’s surface. “You’re stealing my drink?”

  “I’m becoming addicted to the way they do water here.” Not a trace of apology on his lips, he turned to the kitchen staff. “Can I have another?”

  “Of course, Master,” one of them responded, already heading for a pitcher. She sensibly deposited it on the table with another glass.

  “Many thanks.” Happy, Morgan poured himself a glass and refilled hers before gesturing her to continue.

  “Rogue,” she grumbled, accepting it. “Well, the good thing is I found that the paper for the portrait isn’t important. It changes each time. So it cuts down on the variables I have to work with.”

  “That’s good.” Morgan had been around her long enough to know that much. “What’s the bad news?”

  “There’s bad and there’s worst. Have you heard about the Belen King?”

  Eyeing her, he reached for her other fruity-bread pastry and slowly took a bite out of it. “No?”

  “You’re eating now?” she asked in bemusement. “Right as I’m about to impart bad news?”

  “If I’m going to be shocked, I’m going to be shocked on a full stomach.”

  “That almost makes sense.” Almost. Her brain cramped only a little. “Alright. The Belen King has also been spirited away via portrait.”

  Morgan choked. “W-what?!”

  “Master was called in to figure out what happened, saw the portrait, and realized instantly what’d happened.” Sevana was glad now she had called him and sound-boarded ideas. Master might not have recognized what he was
seeing so instantly otherwise. What would they have done if the Belen King’s portrait had also gone missing? “He’s on his way to Big as we speak.”

  “If that’s the bad news, what’s the worst news?”

  “We’re still not sure what kind of spell this is. And until we do, we’re not entirely sure how to properly transport it, or what magic is safe to use around it. I’m not even sure how to safeguard people against it.” That last part was the one that truly rankled. Sevana had only a guess, and while it was a good guess, she had little fact to back it up with.

  Morgan chewed and swallowed before venturing, “Will more portraits help you figure it out?”

  “Yes and no. The more you bring me, the more information I have, and that’s always helpful. But really, I need to speak to the makers of the ink. Until I understand its composition, I’ve hit a wall, and there’s little more I can do.”

  “Ahhh. So you’ll leave for Big soon?”

  “As soon as you get me those portraits, assuming they’re the right ones. After that, I need to go.” Which meant that Sevana had to figure out soon how to transport everything back. Using any of her mini-fliers would make things difficult, as it barely fit her and Grydon. Trying to get her, Grydon, and multiple tubes of portraits on the thing would be a balancing act. Although she supposed she could take Grydon through the clock, leave him there, and fly just her and the portraits. Come to think of it, that might be the easiest solution.

  That settled, her mind went to another thought that was nagging at her. “Kip.”

  He polished off the rest of the bread, so could only manage a humming noise.

  “I have this feeling that I’ve run across this magician before.”

  Morgan abruptly stopped chewing, manner coming more alert and gave a questioning, “Mmm?”

  “It’s not anything overt, or obvious, it’s just…” her hands rose to illustrate in the air. “Something about the way the spell was crafted is familiar to me. It’s in a style that’s not usually used. It feels…different.”

  “I’m not a magician, I’ll have to take your word for that, but you’re saying you’ve encountered this man before?”