Читать книгу Cast In Honour - Michelle Sagara - Страница 11

Chapter 5

The house had a crowded and untidy vestibule. There were six pairs of boots, though none were of a size suitable for children. None of the victims were likely to be young, which was as much of a relief as she could expect in a murder investigation.

Regardless, the shoes, the coats and the various bits of furniture were not, in any way, magical. They looked the same no matter how anyone present viewed them.

The hall that led into the house from the vestibule was the same: slightly lived in, but also in decent repair. Worn rugs had been placed over slightly less well-worn floorboards that creaked a lot less under weight than her first apartment had. The sitting room was closest to the front of the house, on the right when facing in; on the left were stairs, beneath which was a door.

There were doors that implied other rooms, and a wide, brightly lit space at the back of the house that looked into the common yard.

Nothing about any of the house itself indicated use of magic. Nothing made Kaylin’s skin ache, and nothing like the cracked street outside appeared when she looked through her familiar’s wing.

“You’re wondering why we were sent here,” Teela correctly surmised.

“Kind of, yes. Do you see anything that implies magic’s been used here recently? It’s not particularly easy to magically kill a man—or three—and it would leave some markers.” It would be faster and less easily traced to kill them in any of the more familiar, mundane ways, which would still require Hawks to investigate, but not this particular set.

Teela’s compressed lips made it clear that the answer was no. She turned to Gavin, who was also tight-lipped and about as friendly as he ever got when the sanity of the people making the decisions was in question.

“Where are the bodies?” Kaylin asked.

“Downstairs.”

“Downstairs?”

“In the basement.”

Ugh.

* * *

Kaylin didn’t particularly like basements. She couldn’t imagine that anyone did, except for small rodents and large insects. She was the shortest of the Hawks present, but even she couldn’t stand up at full height once they reached the bottom of stairs that had probably been a hazard from the day they were first built. Bellusdeo offered to enlarge the basement by sinking the floor, which Kaylin assumed was a joke—until she saw Teela’s thoughtful expression.

Gavin, however, uttered a very distinct, very chilly no. He followed it up with a lecture on structural stability that only Bellusdeo found relevant. “The bodies,” he added, “are to the left.” He carried a lamp, which bounced off rough walls and rough floors in a way that seemed almost calculated to make them less appealing. Teela had clearly had enough of this and conjured up a magical light of her own, which had the predictable effect of raising goose bumps on Kaylin’s skin.

And her marks were glowing. Here, they emitted a glow that extended for yards, but they weren’t as bright as Teela’s light, and definitely not as directionally useful.

“Who reported this to the Halls?” Tain asked. He was generally content to let Teela do the talking, but Teela seemed preoccupied.

Gavin answered the question as if he’d expected it. “The daughter. A family of four lives here. One of the four is in the basement, along with two of his friends.”

“The rest of the family was unharmed?”

“The rest of the family was, apparently, asleep.”

“They heard nothing?”

“No.”

“When did they discover the bodies?”

“Early morning.”

“Are they here?”

“They’re at church, at the moment. The daughter is young, and I believe her mother wished to distract her. We’ve interviewed the mother and the father. Their son was one of the victims.”

“The mages have left?”

“An hour ago. Had you wished to speak with them, you might have arrived at the expected time.”

Imperial mages treated Teela with grudging respect—they’d never once demanded proof of her magical competence when she’d chosen to reveal any—but they treated Kaylin as if she were new to both the Hawks and the basic concepts of magic itself.

She was willing to admit—to herself, in private—that she didn’t know as much magical theory as she probably should by now. But if they’d bothered to check, they’d see that her reports were filed as part of official evidence and observation in dozens of investigations. She hated to have to justify her existence every single time she met a member of the Imperium.

Today, given the distraction of Gilbert and Kattea, she wouldn’t have to. She’d have to justify her tardiness to Marcus, but claws and growled threats of losing her throat didn’t irritate her nearly as much as Imperial mages did.

The small dragon squawked volubly. Kaylin slid her hand over her ear in a vain attempt to preserve some of her hearing. “I get it,” she told the annoyed—and annoying—familiar.

The hair on her neck had started to stand on end. Her arms, however, didn’t hurt—or rather, didn’t hurt more, given Teela’s light. “Teela.”

“You see something.”

“Not yet. But something’s off here.”

“How off?”

“Bellusdeo should probably go back upstairs.”

The gold Dragon had no intention of going back up the stairs, and the smoke she exhaled clearly indicated that she was offended at the suggestion. Gavin looked as if he was about to order her off the premises. She was, however, a Dragon—and even those who served at the Emperor’s pleasure understood the role of the Dragon Court. In theory, Gavin had the legal right to ask Bellusdeo to vacate—but theory was a very, very poor shield against Dragon rage.

Kaylin was only slightly surprised when Teela’s light hit the top of a second set of descending stairs. These were stone, but as the light illuminated them more fully, they appeared to be carved entirely out of a single piece of rock. “These stairs were here when you came to investigate?”

“Yes.”

“Did the person who reported finding the bodies mention anything unusual about the stairs themselves?”

“Yes. According to the interview conducted with the parents of the deceased, these stairs are new.”

“How new?”

“The basement is used for cold storage. The stairs were not—again, according to the parents—present three days ago.”

“Have you asked the daughter?”

“No.”

“Did anyone?”

“No. The daughter was not present for the interviews.”

“Where is she now?”

“As I said, at church.”

Kaylin cursed. “Which church, Gavin?”

Gavin had no answer to offer.

“Why is it relevant?” Bellusdeo asked. “You are not particularly religious yourself.”

“On occasion, new religions present themselves to people. Some of them start on Elani.”

“You suspect fraud.”

“Fraud is one thing,” Kaylin replied. Her skin began to feel raw whenever she walked or moved her arms. “I don’t care what people do to comfort themselves. I don’t care if people who claim to speak with the dead offer—and make money from—comfort to the bereaved. I don’t even care if people pay through the nose for that comfort. Yes, I used to despise it. I like to think I’ve gotten a bit smarter.”

“Liar.”

“It’s not the fakes I’m concerned about. Not all religions worship distant gods. Some have magic as their focal point.”

“Lianne,” Gavin said.

“On it,” the private replied, heading instantly back up the stairs.

* * *

The stairs looked the same with the familiar’s intervention and without: cold, hard and distinctly uninviting. Teela headed down the stairs first; Tain was two steps behind her. Kaylin followed; she wanted Severn to keep Bellusdeo out of what appeared to be a new subbasement. Naturally, he wouldn’t do it.

Kaylin couldn’t. Bellusdeo was older and more powerful than Kaylin, and vastly more knowledgeable. Kaylin was not a capable judge of the Dragon’s actual abilities—she was just the person who was going down, and hard, if anything happened to Bellusdeo. She tried not to resent the worry, and failed—but managed to keep it to herself.

The small dragon warbled very quietly.

“Teela?”

“Hug the wall. This is not a small staircase. It widens at the bottom.”

* * *

There were walls on either side of the stairs, of the same rough stone construction as the steps themselves. There were no torch-rings or lamp-hooks on the descent; there was nothing on the walls at all. Kaylin stopped when Teela did, the halt staggering back up the stairs.

“The walls, kitling?”

“Nothing up here.”

“Come to where I am.”

Kaylin headed around Tain and came to stand beside Teela. She didn’t lift the familiar’s wing; she didn’t need to. There was magic here, a sigil splashed and stretched across the left wall. Kaylin frowned.

“You can see it.”

“Yes, but...”

“But?”

“It’s the wrong color. Most of the sigils I’ve seen are shades of blue or gray.”

“This one?”

“It’s purple. Purple and black.”

“Is it active?”

“No—it’s definitely the remnants of a previously cast spell. Or spells.” She frowned again. “I’d say this is the work of more than one person; there are at least two marks here.”

“Do you recognize either of them?”

The problem with magical detection—or at least the chief problem, as far as Kaylin was concerned—was the lack of permanent visual Records. Perception was never consistent, and while a mage could reliably state where he’d seen the trace or sigil of the caster before—if he had come across it in any other investigation—the mage’s description would offer no useful information to any other mage. Only if the investigators were forced to use memory crystals could the images be retained. Memory crystals, however, were very difficult to make and exceedingly expensive. They made portable mirrors seem cheap and readily available in comparison.

Therefore, what Kaylin saw could not be recorded in any reliable way. What she’d seen over the almost eight years she’d spent with the Hawks could not be recalled and compared to the sigils before her now. Although this was also true for Teela, Teela was Barrani: she remembered everything with absolute clarity.

“I’m surprised the mages didn’t stay,” Teela said—in the wrong tone of voice. “Gavin, you have a mirror?”

“Not with me, no.”

“Here.” She retrieved her own mirror and tossed it—accurately—up the stairs; Gavin caught it in his fingertips. “Mirror Marcus the names of the attending mages. Mirror the Imperial Order. Bellusdeo, it’s time for you to leave.”

The ensuing silence was chilly.

“Go directly to Sanabalis. No, forget that. Go directly to the Arkon. Tell him exactly what you’ve seen so far. Tain and Severn will accompany you.”

Severn’s expression didn’t change at all. Tain’s did; he had become, in the few minutes since they’d descended these stairs, very starkly blue-eyed and grim. He didn’t argue with Teela’s command. Everyone present—except possibly Lianne—knew that to the Emperor, any harm that came to Bellusdeo would be paid for by the Hawks she was currently observing.

Or by one particular Hawk.

To Kaylin’s surprise, Bellusdeo almost instantly agreed. “Will you mirror the Arkon directly with any other relevant information?” she asked Teela.

“The portable mirror is keyed directly to the Halls. Without tampering, it’s not capable of accessing other mirrors, but I’ll ask for an immediate relay.”

“Keep an eye on Kaylin.”

“I will.”

“Kaylin,” Kaylin interjected, annoyed, “is a Hawk, in good standing.”

Bellusdeo shrugged—a fief shrug. She’d definitely picked that up from Kaylin or Severn. She then retreated.

“How far do the stairs go?” Kaylin asked Gavin.

“At least as far again as you’ve walked so far.”

“And the stairs weren’t here three days ago.”

Teela grimaced. “Why is nothing ever simple when you’re involved?”

“Hey, I’m not here for every case that seems to start normal and then goes sideways. You’ve probably been involved in way more weirdness than I have.”

Teela stared, pointedly, at Kaylin’s glowing arms. And forehead. Kaylin decided to quit while she was only slightly behind.

* * *

By the time they reached level ground again, Kaylin was grateful that Bellusdeo had marked the change in Teela’s tone and had decided to take it seriously. “I see six,” she told the Barrani Hawk. “Six distinct and separate magical sigils. Not three.”

“Are they all the same color?”

“In theory, yes.”

“I’ll go with the practical—you were never very good with theory, anyway.”

“You know how I said the top three were purple?”

“Top three being the ones you saw first?”

Kaylin nodded. “I think I was wrong. They’re purple now. But I think, if I’d been here during or immediately after the spell was triggered, they would have been the blue I’m used to seeing. Does that match what you’re seeing at all?” Teela had never fully explained the paradigm through which she detected magic.

“I’m uncertain. When you say you think they would have been blue, are you detecting a change?”

“...Yes. No.”

“Which is it?”

Kaylin pointed up the stairs. “The ones toward that end are much redder. They’re distinctly aftereffect, at least to my eyes. I don’t think they’re indicators of active contingency spells, but the last one is Dragon-eye red.”

“The one before it?”

“Red as well, at least compared to the first sigil.”

“They’re distinct marks?”

“There are more than six marks,” Kaylin replied, frowning as she stared up and down the wall. “But there are six distinct sigils.”

“You believe the casters repeated spells?”

“You’re seeing a pattern, too?”

“A possible pattern.”

Gavin took this moment to clear his throat. Loudly. Mages did not often discuss their evaluations while making them, though they might compare notes after the fact. Kaylin thought that was garbage. Discussing her observations allowed her to focus on what she was seeing in a slightly different way. But then again, she wasn’t an Imperial mage.

She went back to the first sigil and carefully made her way down the steps again. “I’m going to need to sketch these,” she murmured.

“I’m not certain it will be helpful,” Teela replied. Kaylin was not a very good artist.

* * *

The sigils did repeat. They did not repeat in an immediately obvious sequence. “I don’t think the mages involved were working in concert.”

“Because of the different saturation of red?”

“Partially, yes. But there’s also some overlap. If the placement of the sigils are any indication, these stairs probably appeared when the last of them was laid down. Teela—”

“On it,” the Hawk replied. “If you’re about to say these marks weren’t placed on these walls.” Teela frowned and gestured. She didn’t add to the pattern in any way; the detection spells of the mages were cast upon their own eyes.

“I think you’re onto something,” Teela finally said. “If we imagine that the spells were cast when the casters were standing on level ground with low—very low—ceilings, they would not overlap in the way they appear to overlap now.”

“The red worries me.”

“It worries me, as well. I don’t see red,” she clarified. “But I see some indication of...contamination.”

“Is it possible that six different people were trying to cast the same spell at different times?”

“It’s possible, yes. Which introduces a host of other questions, none of which are comforting.”

“No.” Kaylin glanced at the small dragon, who lifted a wing in silence, staring at the walls as if he could see, more clearly, what was written there. “Wing view is the same. There’s no new information.” Kaylin exhaled. “Shall we go view the bodies?”

* * *

The bodies were in the room the stairs led into. It was not a small room, and given the depth to which the stairs descended, Kaylin wasn’t surprised to find that there was standing room here. The ceilings were tall and appeared to be made of the same rock as the stairs and the floor. There was no way this room and the second set of stairs had been carved in just three days. Not without a lot of magic. And noise, for that matter.

Kaylin had not asked the familiar to lower his wing, and he hadn’t folded it across his back on his own, so she assumed he intended for her to see something. She entered the room, wondering—not for the first time—how he actually saw the world. Did he see what his wing exposed? Did he see more? Was everything just a jumble of possibilities and probabilities, without concrete reality to hold it in place?

“Gavin,” Kaylin said, lifting a hand and immediately regretting it as cloth chafed her already-sensitive skin, “where exactly did you say the bodies were?”

Teela turned to look at her in open disbelief. Gavin was probably drilling the side of her face as well, given Teela’s expression.

“Tell the familiar to lower his wing,” Teela told her.

The familiar in question squawked.

“I’m sorry,” Teela replied, with zero actual regret in her voice, “but we need Kaylin to see what’s actually here. You can play the part of slightly detached mask again afterward.”

The small dragon lowered his wing.

* * *

The moment it was gone, the bodies appeared. Nothing else looked different to Kaylin—the room was still far too large and the ceiling too high. The bodies, however, were a significant addition. There were, as Gavin had said, three. They were, on first glance, all male and approximately Kaylin’s age.

They were also lying in a kind of sleeping repose and had been arranged in a neat row, their feet even with one another. They wore nondescript clothing of the type that a carpenter or gardener would wear. They did not appear to have expired of specific injuries; there was no visible blood.

“Have the bodies been moved at all?” Teela asked.

Gavin replied in a tight voice, “I have been at this job for longer than most of the Barrani. Beyond what was required to ascertain that they were not alive, they have not been touched.”

Teela nodded thoughtfully. If she’d noticed Gavin was offended—and since she was Barrani, there was a chance she hadn’t—she clearly didn’t care. “So we have neatly lined up bodies of slightly different sizes—all apparently mortal—that Kaylin can’t see when she’s looking through her familiar’s wing. This is not looking promising.”

“Should we send the bodies to Red?” Gavin asked.

“I think,” Kaylin replied, before Teela could, “that we should bring Red to the bodies. I’m not liking the idea of bodies that can’t be seen—”

“By you.”

“—being deposited in the morgue. The protections we have in the Halls are for the regular magical criminality, and this clearly isn’t it.”

Gavin hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if taking any advice from someone so junior and from such questionable roots was against his every fiber. He was, however, practical, and his nature forced an end to that hesitation. “I’ll mirror it in. Head to the Halls and make sure the Hawklord sits on the Imperial Order—we’ll want those reports as soon as possible.” He glanced at the bodies. “His parents aren’t going to be happy.”

“Which one is the son?”

“The one on the left. Neither of the parents recognized the other two, so I’ve sent a request to Records for any information about previous criminal activities or any missing-persons reports that might involve them.” He handed Teela the portable mirror. “Request your forward. Marcus is expecting you in the office.”

* * *

“This isn’t the way to the Halls,” Teela observed as they walked away from the Winding Path. Kaylin glanced, briefly, at Gilbert’s house; she was almost certain his presence and the deaths of the young men were related. But she couldn’t force herself to believe that Kattea was also connected to the deaths. Kattea had been in Nightshade—and she’d gotten out. What would be left, for her, if Gilbert was gone?

“Kitling?”

“Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?”

“I asked you where you thought you were going.”

“To visit Evanton. It’ll be brief, I promise.”