The Emperor's Mask (Magebreakers Book 2)

by Ben S. Dobson

  “They haven’t hurt anyone yet,” Indree said. “And they’re in favor of non-magical rights. These murders don’t seem to fit their agenda.”

  “I have no reason to believe they’re directly involved,” Lady Abena clarified. “They have the right to their protests, of course, so long as no one is harmed, but their presence has already invited counter-protestors. Tensions between the magical and non-magical are already high, and word of a killer who may have pro-magical motives will only fan the flames. I am in the midst of certain diplomatic negotiations, and it will hardly strengthen our position if the citizenry or the Senate are losing their heads over—” She paused there, frowned. “A poor choice of words, given the circumstances, but true all the same. I have already assigned my Mageblades to patrol the Roost, but I would prefer they not be necessary. The person behind this mask must be apprehended before anyone else dies. And if Nieris’ phantom knights are in fact real, they need to be stopped.”

  Indree stood tall and gave a firm nod. “I will do everything in my power to make that happen, Lady Abena.”

  “I expect nothing more, or less,” said Lady Abena. “Mister Carver, Miss Kadka, I must ask you not to insert yourselves into Inspector Lovial’s investigation except where she asks. Your past service is greatly appreciated, but this is a sensitive matter, and you two do have a history of… somewhat less than sensitive methods. After tomorrow afternoon, I will be unavailable to extract you from any trouble you might find yourselves in for some time.”

  “Listen,” Tane said defensively, “we didn’t dig that—”

  “They’ll be good, Lady Abena,” Indree interrupted. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Very well.” Lady Abena gestured to her Mageblade, who opened the door for her. She fixed Indree with one last solemn look. “I am placing a great deal of faith in you, Inspector Lovial. I cannot delay my tour, so I must leave this matter in your hands. Please don’t disappoint me.” With that, she strode out of the room. The elven Mageblade followed after her, letting the door swing closed once more.

  “Rather make killer angry than her, I think,” Kadka said, and flashed Indree a grin. “Best solve this, yes?”

  “That’s the plan.” Indree sounded confident enough, but Tane could tell Lady Abena’s last words had shaken her. The Lady Protector had been very generous with the three of them, but she was still the most powerful woman in the Protectorate. “Although I wouldn’t mind a little bit more to go on.”

  Kadka clapped Indree on the shoulder. “We will help. If message is for us, is our problem too. Right Carver?”

  “That depends on Indree,” Tane said, and looked to her with a raised eyebrow. “You heard Lady Abena: this is her investigation.” He kept his tone controlled and his breathing even, in case she tried a truth-spell. He wasn’t about to let this go—not until he was sure the killer hadn’t aimed that message at him and Kadka.

  Indree rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m sure if I said so you’d just go home and forget all about this.”

  Kadka cackled at that. “Knows you too well, Carver.”

  So much for that. “There’s a first time for everything?” Tane ventured.

  “Don’t try so hard,” said Indree. “You’ll break something. Look, I don’t want to cut you out of this. I have two candidates for our next Protector dead, and someone found a way to bypass a lot of wards and divinations to do it. I need to know how, and you’re the expert on that. Can we agree that if I keep you two involved, you’ll follow my lead and try to keep yourselves beneath Chief Durren’s notice?”

  “I’ll take that,” said Tane. “Kadka?”

  Kadka nodded. “Is fair.”

  “It’s a deal, then,” Indree said, and pulled open the door. “Come on, I’ll see you out for now. I’m going to have to spend some time reassuring Chief Durren that he’s still in charge before anything else.”

  They’d barely stepped out the door when a trembling, high-pitched voice pierced the air.

  “You!”

  A blur of motion, and then something struck Tane in the chest. A blonde woman, no more than a foot tall, fluttering on iridescent dragonfly wings. She gripped Tane’s collar in one fist and battered his chest with the other, tears rolling down her face.

  He knew who she was. Her deep red and green dress was too finely made and expensive for anyone else. And besides, he’d seen her picture hanging above the fireplace just outside the murder scene.

  Elsa Rosepetal. The senior senator of House Rosepetal, and one of the most powerful women in the city.

  Tane took a startled step back; she moved with him, still clutching his collar. “Senator, I—”

  She beat her hand against his chest once more. “This is your fault!” Rage glinted in her teary eyes. “That message was for you! You Magebreakers! My son is dead because of you! Both of you!” She cast her glare towards Kadka, but didn’t let go of Tane’s shirt.

  Kadka reached out for the furious sprite, but Tane held up a hand to stop her. “If this was a message for us, I’m truly sorry, Senator Rosepetal,” he said. It was hard to meet her eyes without imagining Byron Rosepetal’s head crushed under a brass spike, but he forced himself to do it all the same. I owe her that much. “I promise you, I’m going to do everything I can to help—”

  “Help?” Elsa laughed bitterly. “My son is already dead. There is nothing you can do for him now.” Finally, she released his collar and fluttered back a short distance. “Consider yourself lucky that this place is warded against unauthorized magic, or I would kill you where you stand.”

  “I…” But Tane couldn’t find an answer to that. Is someone killing people to get my attention? He didn’t want to believe it, and as far as he knew there had been nothing at the Stooke manor to suggest a pattern. But it had been easier to deny when the consequences had been distant, abstract. Before a grieving mother had grabbed him by the collar.

  I need to know there was nothing at the other scene. I need to be sure.

  Several constables were closing in around them, and Indree stepped between Tane and Elsa. “You’re upset, Senator,” she said, “so I’m going to let that threat pass. I wouldn’t suggest saying anything else of the sort in the middle of Stooketon Yard.” She beckoned to an approaching sprite in bluecap uniform. “Constable Sweetleaf will see you to your carriage. And while it may not come as much comfort now, know that we will find the person who did this.”

  “You’re right,” Elsa said in a dull, flat voice. “It’s no comfort at all.” But she went with Constable Sweetleaf, and didn’t look back. Tane watched them go until they passed around a corner and out of sight.

  “I know that look,” Indree said after a moment. “The deal’s off, isn’t it?”

  Tane turned to her with his best innocent face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t bother, Tane. I know you. A bereaved mother tells you it’s all your fault and I’m supposed to believe you’re still willing to wait on procedure? You’ve already decided you owe her this. And you’re not going to listen when I tell you any guilt is on the killer, not you. I’m not going to be able to keep you in line short of throwing you in a cell.”

  Astra, she does know me too well. He could lie well enough to fool spells, but Indree saw right through him. Tane offered her his wrists. “If that’s what you think you have to do.”

  Indree sighed, and reached into her pocket. But she didn’t come out with handcuffs. Instead, she drew out a small artifact—a brass locket-like enclosure with a glass front. She grabbed Tane’s wrist, turned his palm upward, and pressed the little device into it. Through the glass, he could see a small lock of her hair, held in place by a copper clasp.

  She wasn’t locking him up. For some reason, she was giving him exactly what he wanted.

  “I can’t let you into the scene at the Stooke manor without supervision, but the family is staying at their townhouse off Stooketon Circle while we investigate,” Indree said. “Number 9 Oolai Street. Maybe something t
hey saw will mean more to you than it did to me. You can use this to contact me, day or night.”

  Kadka leaned over Tane’s shoulder to look at the locket. “What is it?”

  “A sending locket,” he said. “It lets people who can’t use magic contact those who can. When I squeeze it, the person the divination focus inside belongs to—Ree, in this case—feels a sort of tingle through the Astra. An indication to open a sending between us.” Tane couldn’t think of any particular reason for Indree to have one on hand unless she’d made it particularly for him. Which was either flattering or patronizing—he couldn’t decide which.

  “So we can go?” Kadka asked, cocking her head at Indree. “Without bluecaps watching? You don’t worry that we break another street?” She half-grinned, exposing sharp teeth at one side of her mouth.”

  “Oh, I worry,” said Indree. “But you’ll find a way to cause trouble no matter what I do. And the truth is, I… I need you.” Her eyes darted to the side there, away from Tane’s. “Whether I can control you or not. I’ve got nothing to go on right now, and there’s no reason to believe the killer won’t go after someone else very soon.”

  “Well that can’t have been easy for you to admit.” Tane knew he shouldn’t gloat, but it was hard to resist.

  “Shut up, Tane.” Indree fixed him with a glare as hot as spellfire. “Don’t forget, I could lock you up for the night instead.”

  Tane just held up his hands in surrender. Better not push her. She might actually do it. He needed to hear what the Stookes had to say, and he couldn’t do that from a cell.

  “Smart,” Indree said. “Now go find me something. And when you do, I’d better be the first person you tell. Or if you get in any kind of trouble. Anything happens, and I want to know before anyone else. If Chief Durren learns I gave you free rein…” She looked between the two of them, prodding her cheek with her tongue, and then, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

  “When have we ever let you down?” Tane asked with a slight smile.

  Indree gave a resigned shake of her head. “Just go,” she said. “Before I change my mind.” Then, to their backs as they hurried down the hall:

  “And this ought to go without saying, but try not to get yourselves killed.”

  Chapter Five

  _____

  THE STOOKE’S TOWNHOUSE wasn’t far from Stooketon Yard. Both were in the Stooketon district of Thaless, a center of trade and commerce named for the powerful merchant house itself. Some of the neighborhoods were more affluent than Tane was used to, home to successful traders and speculators, but even so he felt more at home here than he did in the Gryphon’s Roost. This was wealth on a level he could almost understand—no manor estates, just tall joined houses with gabled roofs, clean and well-maintained.

  The townhouse was on an expensive residential street just off the markets of Stooketon Circle at the district’s center. Each house was uniquely designed and appointed, and few were smaller than four floors, but they bore some distant relationship to the single-room brickfront rows in Porthaven—like wealthy third cousins, long estranged but related all the same. Tane supposed the Stookes kept the place for visiting family and guests, because no one in the order of succession of a Senate house would settle for such modest accomodation under normal circumstances. Modest. He snorted. My office would fit twice over on the bottom floor alone.

  “Is this one,” Kadka said as they drew near. ‘Number 9.” The number was wrought in brass and affixed above the townhouse’s letterbox.

  It was easily the nicest house on the street, a tall off-white facade with a deep green door and matching green shutters and gables on the upper floors. A brass badger’s head protruded open-mouthed at the door’s center where a knocker should have been, but it lacked a ring to knock with. There were no guards, which was curious, given the circumstances, but a family like the Stookes could afford powerful magical security—perhaps they thought hired men unnecessary.

  “Let me do the talking,” said Tane. “I think they’ll let us in if they know it’s me.” His fingers moved to his waist pocket and brushed over his dented watch case. His father’s. It didn’t tick under his fingers—there was no clockwork inside, not since the ancryst rail accident that had taken his parents from him.

  “You know senators?” Kadka raised a bushy eyebrow. “You never say this before.” She grinned. “And you have not so many friends.”

  “I don’t know them, exactly. But we have… history.” History he’d been happy never to leverage before. He wasn’t particularly eager to do it now.

  Kadka shrugged. “Fine. But you tell me this story.”

  “I don’t want to get into it twice,” said Tane. “It will be obvious enough in a moment or two. Come on.” He marched past her and up the short stair leading to the door. There was no visible knocker, but a small copper plate sat on the right side of the doorframe with a glyph engraved at its center. Tane pressed his thumb against the glyph, and heard a bell chime inside the house.

  “Who’s there?”

  A young male voice, but it didn’t come from the other side of the door. Rather, it issued from the mouth of the brass badger. A simple voice-casting artifact, not uncommon for those who often received unwanted guests.

  “My name is Tane Carver. I’m here with my partner, Kadka. We want to talk to you about the… the recent tragedy. We might be able to help.”

  “Carver?” the voice repeated, with a trace of recognition. A short pause, and then, “You’re the ones they’re calling Magebreakers.”

  Tane grimaced at the use of that title, but he didn’t fight it. This wasn’t the time or place. “Yes. But that’s not where you know my name from.” He was taking a chance, there—this might be some servant who had no idea what that meant. But he didn’t think a servant would have said his name that way.

  “No,” said the voice. “It isn’t. You and I have things to talk about besides my… my brother, don’t we?”

  “We do. Will you let us in, Endo?” There was only one person that voice could belong to: Endo Stooke, the younger son of Umbla Stooke. His mother was the head of the house and senior senator, and his elder brother the junior senator and a potential candidate for Protector of the Realm, but it was Endo who most interested Tane. He’d heard that name a great many times when he was younger.

  Too many times.

  No answer for a moment, and then, “I have to check with my mother. Please, wait in the receiving chamber.”

  Tane heard the lock click, and then the door swung open under an invisible force. There was no one behind it, just a small white-walled room, empty save for the cushioned benches on either side. At the far end, another green door stood closed—and locked, Tane assumed. Beside it at eye level, a brass panel on the wall drew his attention. A lens of blue glass or crystal sat in the center of the panel, surrounded in engraved glyphs, and below it was what looked like a small drawer with no handle. He had no idea what it was for, and he could usually identify an artifact on sight.

  But it didn’t matter, just then. He stepped inside, through the tingle of a ward, and beckoned for Kadka to follow.

  She did, and closed the door behind them. “Is farther than I think we get,” she said with a grin. “Shouldn’t wards be stronger? Like one you say checks Astra, at Rosepetal house.”

  “The real ones start on the next door, I’d guess,” Tane said. “I’ve heard of wealthier families doing this—minor wards on the receiving chamber so guests can sit while they wait on being added to the exemptions on the stronger ones. I imagine a servant will be along shortly to take divination foci from us. If they decide to let us in.”

  “You think they will,” said Kadka. “Why? Why does this man know your name?”

  “Like I said, you’ll understand soon enough.” Tane sat himself down on a green cushioned bench and stretched out his legs.

  Kadka didn’t press the issue, just walked over to the strange brass panel and leaned in to examine the inert blue lens
. She tapped a thick half-orc fingernail against it. “What is this, then?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tane. “I’ve never seen one before.”

  Kadka looked over her shoulder at him. “Magic you don’t know? First time I hear you say this.”

  “Umbla Stooke’s son Endo is supposedly quite the artificer,” said Tane. “This is probably his work. Not much of it ends up out in the world. From what I hear, his inventions are brilliant but far too expensive for anyone with less money than a Senate house.”

  “Drawer here has no handle.” Kadka pried around the edge of the little brass drawer with her claw-like nail. “How does it open?”

  “Kadka, don’t play with it.”

  The warning came too late. A chime sounded from the panel, and silver-blue light lit the lens from behind. A brass iris flared out behind blue glass as the lens focused on Kadka like an eye. Tane heard metal moving on metal from the other direction, a bolt sliding into place. The outside door locking.

  That can’t be good.

  Kadka took a step back. “What is—”

  Before she could finish, a spider the size of Tane’s head dropped onto her shoulder from above.

  “Spellfire!” Tane leapt to his feet; an instant later another one of the things fell on the bench where he’d just been sitting. And it wasn’t a spider, not like he’d thought.

  Not a living one, at least.

  An oblong brass body with several panels set into the sides sat atop eight brass legs, each hinged and jointed into three segments. At the center of the body, surrounded in etched glyphs, a lens like the one on the wall panel glowed silver-blue. A brass iris narrowed and dialated behind the light.

  An automaton. Artificers had been experimenting with such things for centuries, trying to make automated artifacts, or even golems—humanoid automatons that could operate independently. But Tane had never seen any as advanced as this. The spells behind such a thing usually only allowed the most basic function, and then not for long without incredibly expensive gems for power. They were a novelty, a dream.