The Emperor's Mask (Magebreakers Book 2)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Not for the first time, Tane had to admit there was some sense to what Deepweld was saying. He’s thought his argument through, I’ll give him that. And he makes it with conviction. Whether he was lying about the murders or not, Tane was certain of one thing: the man really didn’t care for the Silver Dawn.

  “Do you talk to any of them?” Kadka asked. “Just people from Porthaven, Greenstone, mostly. Only want fair laws.”

  Deepweld waved a hand dismissively. “Of course you think so. Rights for the orcish, is it? Well, I’m not saying they’re all killers. Only takes a few going too far, and we all know self-control is in short supply among those sorts.”

  Something flashed in Kadka’s eyes—Tane knew that look. She was going to argue. It wasn’t like her. Or rather, it was very like her to make her opinion known about a great many things, but usually she let prejudice like Deepweld’s roll off her back. Hadn’t she been the one telling him it was a waste of breath, earlier?

  “Let me ask you something else,” Tane interceded quickly. “You mentioned your grandson earlier. He has no magic?”

  “Dernor,” said Deepweld, and his face softened slightly. “Not a bit of it, Astra help him.”

  “Which makes him a possible Protector of the Realm, one day, out of a fairly narrow field of candidates. I wonder, why are you so eager to change the law to increase the competition?”

  Deepweld’s eyes narrowed. “I love my grandson,” he said. “Magic or no. But it’s a larger question. We’ve spent too long trying to look weak to the nations of the Continent for a sin centuries gone. Audland needs to embrace its strengths. I don’t want to take away anyone’s chances—I want to open them up. My way, Dernor could still be Lord Protector, but so could someone born with magecraft.” He paused to take another long swallow of his whiskey, and then abruptly stood. “Follow me.”

  Tane shared a glance with Kadka, and they both rose to follow Deepweld out of the room. They’d discussed creating an opportunity to look around the manor, but this was easier than any of the ploys they’d considered.

  Deepweld led them back through the manor to the enormous foyer. All along the way, guards kept watch, and at the front door a pair of Mageblades stood at attention—part of a detail assigned by the Lady Protector. While the Mask was at large, those with non-magical sons and daughters to protect were taking every precaution.

  From the foyer, they climbed a grand marble staircase and turned right at the second floor landing, down a long hall. Finally, Deepweld stopped outside a door bearing an image painted in a simple, exaggerated style like something from a children’s book. It depicted a scene of an armored dwarven hero fighting a huge serpent, deep underground with gems glittering in the cave walls all around.

  “Dernor’s room,” said Deepweld. “The boy loves the old dwarven tales. He’s five years old, Mister Carver. As they are, the laws around the Protector’s office make children like him targets from birth, without any magic to protect themselves. I don’t want him growing up like that.” He turned the handle, pushed the door open slowly to cut down the noise. “Look at him. He’s too young to have to worry about madmen like this Mask coming after—” His voice cut off as he looked inside the room.

  Silhouetted in the dark against the open window, a huge figure in black robes loomed over a dwarven child sleeping soundly in his bed. In its hand, Tane could see the shadow of something long and sharp. As the door swung open, the figure looked toward the movement.

  Dim silver-blue light spilled from the eyeslits of a brass mask, emblazoned down the center with the Mage Emperor’s staff and crown.

  Chapter Ten

  _____

  THE MASK RAISED a hand, and the brass spike clasped within glinted in the light from the hall. Carver and Deepweld stood frozen in shock.

  Kadka had no such problem.

  She crossed the room in a sprint, lowered her shoulder, and struck the Mask hard in the side just as the spike swept down. It was like running into a lamp post—the dark figure was near nine feet tall, solidly built, unyielding as iron. Pain exploded down her arm as her bones jarred against one another, and she stumbled back. Spots swam in front of her eyes.

  But the impact sent the spike wide. It missed the sleeping boy’s head by an inch, plunged through the pillow into the mattress beneath. Dernor blinked open his eyes, rubbed his face—already bearing a light fuzz that would one day be a thick dwarven beard—and saw the giant shadow above him.

  He shrieked, the way only a child could.

  The spike lifted again, swept down.

  But Carver was already there, finally spurred into motion. He grabbed Dernor in his arms and rolled aside as the crowned staff bit into the bed again. This time Kadka heard it hit the frame, lodge deep in the wood.

  She drew her long knife from behind her back, slashed at the Mask’s belly. The figure abandoned the crowned staff-spike in the bed to block her blow with the back of its wrist. Metal struck metal beneath the black cloth robe. Some kind of armored gauntlets. How had an armored giant crossed the grounds and entered the manor without being seen or heard? That had to be magic.

  Carver stumbled past Kadka with the boy, and she moved to block the Mask from following.

  “Guards! The Mask!” Deepweld’s voice, from behind, and then he began to chant in the language of magic. Further back, footsteps sounded in the hall, drawing nearer—guards and Mageblades answering the call.

  “Get down, orc!” Deepweld shouted, and then uttered a final word of magic.

  Kadka ducked, and a wave of silver force passed close overhead, stirring her hair. It struck the robed figure full across the torso.

  The Mask took a single step backward, and moved no further. One hand rose; a glyph glowed silver-blue in the dark, the same color as the light behind those eyeslits.

  “What in the—” Deepweld didn’t get the rest of the sentence out.

  A wave of force threw Kadka against the wall, and blasted Deepweld out of the doorway. Toys scattered and tumbled across the room. The air burst from Kadka’s lungs, and she hit the floor hard. Pushing herself to her feet, she saw a black silhouette stepping out through the big open window.

  She couldn’t let the Mask escape. They might not get another chance like this. Forcing shaky legs into motion, she leapt at the figure’s retreating back.

  A huge hand swept through the air and struck her with impossible strength. She slammed into the wall behind her in almost the same spot as before. He was too strong. Or maybe she just wasn’t strong enough. Again.

  The Mask was out the window before she could get her feet back under her.

  “Poska!” she shouted. “If you are so strong, come back and fight!” She staggered to the window, leaned out. The Mask had dropped to the ground below—two floors down—and landed upright on both feet. Three steps across the dark grounds, and then the figure began to blur and shift before Kadka’s eyes. She could see plainly at night, but somehow the Mask was fading into the dark even so.

  “Where is he? We can’t let him get away!” Carver’s voice, just behind her.

  He arrived at the windowsill beside her just in time to see the Mask disappear.

  _____

  “It had to be an ogren,” Tane said. “Too big for anything else, and too strong.”

  They stood in the foyer of the Deepweld manor; the bluecaps had just arrived, joining the Mageblades already at the scene. Indree—in full uniform—was debriefing Tane and Kadka, and she’d brought a dozen others. She’d ordered them to search the grounds as soon as they arrived, but Tane didn’t think they’d find anything more than they had at the other scenes. Spellfire, we had the Mask right in front of us. How can we have so little to show for it?

  Indree took his observations down in a small notebook, and turned to Kadka. “You got the closest, Kadka. Did you notice anything else?”

  “Was strong, like Carver says. Armored some, on arms at least, but quiet. Solid, like wall. Barely moves from Deepweld’s spell. And has own mag
ic, too. Throws me with it.”

  “So we are looking for a mage.” Indree scribbled something down.

  “We don’t know that,” said Tane. “Probably true, given the pro-magical rhetoric, but we never heard any spells being cast directly.”

  Kadka nodded. “No words, just wave of magic.”

  “It was an artifact,” Tane clarified. “In the palm of the hand. I saw the glyph glow. Which makes sense—if you need to move quietly, you can’t go around muttering in the lingua. Better to rely on artifice.”

  “Were there other spells?” asked Indree. “Beyond the force wave? I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Moves too quiet for that size, and in armor,” Kadka said. “Comes in second floor window. Nothing there to climb. Had to be magic. And at the end, disappears in front of me.”

  “Invisibility?” Indree frowned. “Not possible.”

  “I think it was an active illusion,” said Tane. “With the black robe, in the dark… it would have been easier to blend in. Probably used it to get in unseen too. But to fool Kadka’s night vision, it must have been perfect. Which makes no sense. Only an ogren has that kind of size and strength, but only a gnome can camouflage that well in motion. And even if someone could replicate the effect with an artifact, it would burn through the gems powering it faster than most people could afford.”

  “Well someone managed it, however it was done.” Indree wrote something else down and looked at it for a long moment, prodding her cheek with her tongue. “I wish you’d called me sooner. We might have ended this here, or at least learned more. Why didn’t you use the locket I gave you?”

  “There wasn’t time,” Tane said. “It happened fast, and afterwards the Mageblades were already here and the bluecaps had been called in.”

  “You could have told me what you were doing before you came across the actual murderer,” said Indree. “And Lady Abena tells me you were in the Citadel while the Senate was in session. You two are drawing too much attention to yourselves. I might be able to keep Chief Durren off you for a while, but if the Mask has an interest in you already, this isn’t helping.”

  “I know.” The thought had occurred to Tane more than once, and he didn’t much like it. “But we weren’t the targets here, as far as I can tell.”

  Kadka nodded. “Tries to stab Dernor through the head first, like the others. Even after I attack, only tries again. Hardly notices me at all.” She dipped her head there, and her voice was unusually subdued. “Everything after Carver took boy away was just defense, covering escape.”

  “But you did save the boy.” Indree gave Tane a look he couldn’t read. “I suppose I can’t fault your methods too much if they put you in the position to do that. And thanks to your Silver Dawn source we know to put constables on the old maintenance tunnels, although I don’t think half the ways in and out are even on our maps anymore.”

  “We can probably cross Deepweld off the suspect list, too,” said Tane. “If the Mask was here last night, it was probably for reconnaissance. Trying to find a way around the increased security in the Roost.”

  “At least the patrols were good for something then.” Indree couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice. “Not enough to stop the attempt, but a night off is more than we got between the first two murders.”

  Tane was about to answer when the outside door opened behind her, and he saw the last person he wanted to see.

  “You two!” Chief Durren shouted, jabbing a finger toward Tane and Kadka. His face was bright red. “Every time, right at the scene of the crime!” He tromped across the foyer to stand beside Indree. “Inspector Lovial, I want these two taken—”

  “Durren.” Deepweld’s voice, from the landing above. He leaned over the rail. Dernor wasn’t with him—he’d taken the boy somewhere out of the way while the bluecaps went over the manor. “These two saved my grandson’s life. You aren’t taking them anywhere.”

  The red in Durren’s cheeks paled abruptly. “Oh, Senator Deepweld. I didn’t… of course not, if you vouch for them. I only want to be as thorough as possible in finding whoever attacked young Dernor. When I heard what had happened, I came right away. Perhaps we could talk elsewhere?”

  Deepweld was descending to the foyer now. “About how this Mask is going to be found before he acts again? Yes, I think we damned well should.” At the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward his study, and glanced impatiently over his shoulder at Durren. “Well? Are you coming?”

  “One moment, Your Honor,” Durren said. “Inspector Lovial, I’m leaving the scene to you.” As if Lady Abena left him a choice. “Don’t disappoint me. I expect this to be done right.” And then, with a final glare at Tane and Kadka, he followed Deepweld down the hall.

  Kadka watched him go with a frown. “How do you stand him? Is not man who should lead anything.”

  “No. But he knows how to play politics with the Senate houses.” Indree sighed. “And he isn’t happy that a case this big has been taken out of his hands. He’d have me off it if not for Lady Abena. I’m not sure I’m going to have a career left when this is over.”

  Tane knew how important her work was to her—and that associating with him hadn’t made things any easier. “Ree, I—”

  She shook her head. “No time to feel sorry for myself now. We have work to do. Come on, I need to see the scene.” Moving with purpose, she started up the stairs.

  Dernor’s room was still in shambles from the fight. The wall was dented and broken where Kadka had struck it twice, toys were strewn everywhere, and feathers and padding from the twice-stabbed bed drifted across the floor.

  An elven bluecap stood beside the bed, and another, a sprite woman, perched on his shoulder.

  “Find anything?” Indree asked.

  The elven man shook his head. “No, inspector. Just like the other scenes. The spike is clean, no Astral signature that we can find. Arlene was about to give it another go.”

  “Don’t bother,” Indree said. For a brief moment her eyes went out of focus, and then she shook her head. “Nothing. And I doubt we’ll find anything more on the grounds either.” Again, that hint of frustration crept into her voice. “It’s like no one was ever here. Nobody should be able to evade so many spells without leaving a trace.”

  “There’s one trace,” said Tane, his eyes on the crowned staff jabbed through the mattress into the bedframe. “And we haven’t checked it yet.”

  “Ah, yes. More insane rantings. This should be a treat.” Indree pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to cover her hand, then reached out and twisted the crown around the head of the staff.

  Just like at the Rosepetal scene, glyphs flared blue all around the crown, and then the Mask was in front of them, staring with glowing blue eyeslits through a brass plate engraved with the Mage Emperor’s sigil. Only an illusion, but somehow it seemed far more menacing to Tane now that he’d seen it in person.

  “You cannot stop me, Magebreakers.”

  Kadka cocked an eyebrow. “Not so subtle this time.”

  But the Mask had more to say. And the next words froze Tane’s heart in his chest.

  “A new age of the magical is nigh. My victims die to herald the Emperor’s coming, and there will be more. Bow your heads, or join them.”

  Chapter Eleven

  _____

  THE NEXT DAY found Tane and Kadka back in the Gryphon’s Roost, this time without a bluecap escort. Walking down the immaculately maintained tree-lined street, Tane felt like his every move was being watched—like powerful people were staring at him through the curtains of every carriage that rolled past. And there was no shortage of those. The people who lived here didn’t walk—they were driven in opulent vehicles, horse-drawn or ancryst-powered. Especially with a killer on the loose. The Roost was largely empty of foot traffic, save for him and Kadka.

  And the Mageblades. Dozens of them patrolled in pairs up and down every street at Lady Abena’s order, on watch for any sign of another attack. Didn’t do any
thing to stop the Mask getting into the Deepweld manor, though.

  “You see this Uuthar woman in Senate,” Kadka said as they walked. “Could be her, you think? Ogren killer… seems strange.”

  “I wasn’t trying to throw Indree off the trail, if that’s what you mean,” said Tane. “After last night, I’m perfectly happy to let the bluecaps deal with the Mask.” He’d caught Indree up on their investigation the previous evening; they’d arranged to meet this morning at the Uuthar manor. “Noana Uuthar was on Endo’s list, along with others from her house. Apparently she’s been acting strangely the last month. Siding with pro-magical partisans where she wouldn’t have before. And the person we saw last night… the size points to ogren.”

  “So why attack Deepweld’s family? He is on same side in Senate, you said.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes converts are the most zealous believers—maybe she thinks all non-magicals who could be named Protector of the Realm one day need to die. Maybe she’s with the Knights of the Emperor, and their agenda trumps a Senate vote. Or maybe she’s not involved at all, and we’re looking in the wrong place.”

  “You still worry about Silver Dawn,” Kadka said. It wasn’t a question. “What Deepweld said.”

  “The man is a bigot, but… he wasn’t wrong about the possibility. The Silver Dawn is popular with the lower classes—it wouldn’t be hard for them to win over a servant or two in some of these manors. And the lack of Astral trace at any of the scenes could mean another half-orc is involved. I can’t think where we’re more likely to find one than among the Silver Dawn.”

  Kadka frowned. She was uncomfortable with the idea, he could tell. Whatever this Iskar fellow she’d met had said to her, it had made a strong impression.

  “You already said, too big for half-orc,” she said. “And Silver Dawn speaks for non-magicals. Why use Mage Emperor’s symbols? Why kill people with no magic? Why Stooke, if he was ally?”

  “The size does hurt the half-orc theory,” Tane admitted. “But we also saw the Mask use active illusion to disappear like only a gnome can, so I’m not ready to rule anything out. As for the rest of it, we only have the Silver Dawn’s word that Ulnod was one of them. And like Deepweld said, if they wanted to create sympathy for their cause, inventing a pro-magical murderer is a way to do it. Or…”