A Murder of Mages (36 page)

“I need to know whatever I can, Joshea. I fear my ignorance will make me a liability.”

Joshea took out his leather case and set it on the table. He looked about, but no one in the shop was paying them any mind. He opened it slowly, revealing small glass jars, powders in each one.

“This is nothing illegal, I hope, Joshea.”

“No, of course not,” Joshea said. “These are spices. All legal, locally made or properly imported, to the best of my knowledge.”

“Spices?”

“A hobby of mine, one of the few things I can connect with the rest of my family over.” He reached into the case and pulled out one jar with a deep orange powder in it. “This is called
rijetzh
.”

“Poasian?” Minox asked.

Joshea nodded, opening the jar and offering it. “There’s a merchant in North Seleth I get this from.”

Minox took the jar and sniffed at it. The odor was strongly pungent, but not unpleasant. “Interesting. I presume you’re showing it to me for a reason.”

“I only have an idea about it,” Joshea said. “But I’ve been using it in my food, in varying amounts, for some time now.”

“Does it have a property like the poison I encountered?”

“Nothing like that,” Joshea said. “But I believe that, depending on how much I take, it represses my ability.”

Minox put the jar down. “You’ve been using it recently?”

“I actually haven’t,” Joshea said. “I had run out a few weeks before my army unit was decommissioned. I was starting to think I didn’t need it. But after what happened in the alley last night, I thought it would be wise to acquire more. That was part of why I stopped by your home, since it was on my way back.”

“But what’s the advantage of using this
rijetzh
?”

“Control, Minox! I use that, and I’m the one in control of myself.”

“You can’t use any magic?”

“I don’t feel it. That infernal crackling in my belly, that sense that every hair on my neck is standing on end. It’s gone.” He opened the jar and sprinkled some into his cup of
afedhlan
. Then he held it out to Minox. “Do you want to try it?”

Minox’s hand reflexively went out. Control was a very tempting idea, especially after today’s incidents. “You’re certain it’s safe?”

Joshea responded by downing the contents of his cup.

Minox picked up the jar. “How much do I use?”

By ten bells, Rian hadn’t come out of her room. Not to eat, not even to use the water closet. Satrine admired her tenacity, at least. She also hadn’t let Caribet come in herself, and the poor girl fell asleep on the couch. If nothing else, Satrine was confident that Rian wouldn’t be getting any sympathy from her sister.

Missus Abernand had not returned, at least not through their apartment. Satrine went up the back stairs, but found the door latched. She couldn’t hear any obvious signs that Missus Abernand was up and about, and didn’t want to wake her if she wasn’t.

Satrine returned to her apartment. She knocked gently on Rian’s door one more time. No response. The girl was probably sleeping. She should do the same.

She went into her bedroom. Loren slept. She envied him. He was allowed to be unaware.

She cursed herself for having that thought. She knew damn well Loren wouldn’t want to be unaware of what was going on. He went out, every morning, and he did the job with a smile on his face. If anything, she envied his ability to do that. He may have brought the mystery, the excitement of his work back to the house, but never the burden. He carried that without complaint.

She kissed him on the forehead. If he could manage, so would she. If for nothing else, for Rian and Caribet. She had to work now, for all of them, but she had to bear up as well. No matter how the day went, it had to stay at the stationhouse. Her family deserved no less.

Satrine washed off her face and prepared for bed. Yesterday, she had decided she would get this job, and she had. Tomorrow, she would do it right. No matter what.

The house was mostly dark when Minox returned. That was as expected, given that it was almost midnight bells. A few lamps could be spotted from the street, including one in the parlor. Minox suspected that was left burning for him. He wasn’t going to need it, not yet. He had made a promise to Aunt Beliah, and he would keep it.

He made his way around the back of the house to the stable. They hadn’t kept any horses in the stable, not since Father died. On some level, Minox regretted that. Back in his own horsepatrol days, he would have relished keeping his own mount at home. But he knew that was more expense and burden than should be placed on the family. He was already enough of a burden, given how much of his salary he ate.

Though, surprisingly, he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry at this moment. Perhaps that was an effect of Joshea’s spice. Maybe that’s all it did. Minox didn’t know anything about Poasian spices—it was hardly relevant to his Constabulary duties. It may have been foolish to sample it so blindly.

Flickering light was visible through the cracks in the door. Minox knocked quietly.

“Not hungry,” came Evoy’s gravelly response.

“Not bringing food,” Minox replied.

The door opened up. Evoy looked wild, hair a greasy tumble, thick beard growth on his chin. The rancid scent of the man hit Minox full in the face.

“Minox! Good to see you! You sent papers from south neighborhoods today.”

“You got those all right?” Minox asked. He was glad to see the boy had proven trustworthy.

“Yes, yes. Very good. I haven’t gone through everything yet, but . . . I’ve found a few things of note.”

“Excellent. May I come in?”

“Of course, of course.” Evoy jumped back, allowing
Minox entry. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his trousers were becoming worn and tattered. Beliah had been worried, and with good reason. He hadn’t thought Evoy was getting this bad.

“Look, look,” Evoy said, pointing at the walls.

Three of the four walls in the barn were all covered in newsprints, notes, lines of twine and slateboards. Minox knew he was roundly mocked and derided for the notes he kept on his boards on the inspectors’ floor. If his fellow inspectors saw this room, knew not only that it was here, but that he was a participant in its creating, they would think him mad.

They might be right.

Minox hadn’t been in the barn for several days, and Evoy had clearly been busy, building off Minox’s own notes and ideas. Minox scanned over one slateboard, names and questions popping out. Fenmere. Thorn. Blue Hand. Where is Pendall Gurond?

“They didn’t listen to you on that one, did they?” Evoy asked. “Two dead horsemen, one dead assassin, case closed! Typical, typical.”

“Indeed,” Minox said. “Though now that I think about it—”

Evoy shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t see it.” He pointed over to another part of the wall. “Two dead from Firewings. One dead from Light and Stone. Something is missing. Pieces aren’t snapping together. But three dead Blue Hands on a garbage scow isn’t part of it.”

Minox nodded. “Because the methods don’t match.”

“One’s a typical body dump. Yours mean something. I just can’t see where.”

“Where?”

Evoy jumped up, running to another part of the wall, where a large street map of all of Maradaine was the prominent feature. “The alley, the Light and Stone house, the church. The where means so much more to the killer than the who.”

“How so?” Minox asked.

“And then there’s the matter of the girls in Laramie,
Gelmoor, Keller Cove, and Aventil. I never would have seen it without those papers you sent, but now it’s so clear. The pattern. You need three to start a pattern, but even that can be a coincidence. But now it’s five! And no one else has seen it. And why would they? You have to be looking at every piece of the pie.”

“There are girls . . . dead?”

“Missing, but most likely dead.”

“And this ties to my case how, exactly?”

“Not at all, aren’t you paying attention?” Evoy ran over to the first wall. “Of course, that might be a premature pronouncement. I can’t see every piece. Where’s the north side, Minox? Any newssheets from there? Because I’m sure it ties to the Parliament. Two members, I think. Or the Royal College. And a duchess. There would have to be a duchess involved. Wouldn’t there? It only makes sense.”

“Evoy—”

Evoy grabbed a piece of chalk and scrawled rapidly. “I mean it’s almost comical, isn’t it? The obviousness of it all. A duchess. And another noblewoman, I’m sure, so they can have The Lady. All the Grand Ten, you know? That’s what they would do.”

“You’ve lost me, Evoy,” Minox said. That usually brought him back down, even when it wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes Minox was terrified by how much of what Evoy said made perfect sense to him.

“I’m very far ahead of you right now, Minox,” Evoy said. He went over to his small table and took the ball of twine. “The tapestry is far larger than three dead mages.”

Minox knew not to fight Evoy on this, not directly at least.

“You should be writing this, you know,” he said. “Get it in print. Get back to work.”

“Ha!” Evoy said. “Like the
South Maradaine Gazette
could handle all this. As if they had enough paper to print it all!” Suddenly he dropped down, sitting on the floor, and his voice turned calm. “Have you seen Rencir lately?”

“He stopped by the station yesterday,” Minox said.

“Did he ask after me?”

“Not this time.” As much as he was tempted to, there was no point in lying to Evoy.

“You’re right, of course,” Evoy said. “I should write it all out. And send Rencir just a dollop of it. Just a little bit of the truth. Enough to let him know there is a bigger picture.”

“That’d be good, Evoy.” Minox knelt down by him. “Your mother would like that.”

“Would she?” His tone darkened. “She’d probably like it if I came into the house as well.”

“She would,” Minox said. “I did promise her I’d speak to you on the subject. And now I have.”

“Fine, fine,” Evoy said. “You’ve fulfilled your promise. It’s no good for me in there. Not enough space in the house. Too many voices, clamoring about minutiae. Can’t hear myself think in there. Saints, you had that big dinner with your friend from the army. Clammer clatter bang bang.” He jumped back up to his feet and started writing on a slateboard again.

“Joshea Brondar,” Minox said.

“Brondar. Name from Eastern Druthal. Monim, I think. Was he a pikeman?”

“Not sure,” Minox said.

“But army family. Probably an ancestor went to Khol Taia.”

“It’s entirely possible,” Minox said.

Evoy pounced on a pile of papers, tearing through them. “Khol Taia is always important. I don’t suppose you could get me a roster of every single Druth soldier who was stationed there.”

“No,” Minox said. “I’ve told you this before.”

“And when the whole city comes crashing down on our heads, dear cousin, don’t come crying to me!”

Minox had had quite enough, and he had fulfilled his promise to his aunt. No need to submit himself to any more abuse today. “I would never do that, Evoy. However, I think I should retire.”

“True. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Rest while you can. If you can, with all that noise. So much noise.”

Minox slipped out of the barn and found his way
through the dark to the kitchen door. He briefly considered helping himself to something from the larder before going to bed, but the encounter with Evoy had left him too troubled to eat. Evoy was worse than Fenner had ever been.

Despite that, Minox completely understood what he was doing, and even had the urge to join him.

He touched his face. Stubble had grown. He resolved to shave that off and get to sleep as quickly as possible.

Chapter 23