The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) (10 page)

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?”

“Not him, but
his work.” If she wasn’t so dog tired, she might be able to put the pieces
together. “I’m struggling to remember where.”

“Is this
recent?”

Instinct said
so. “Fairly recent?” she responded doubtfully. “In the past year, I think.”

“The only two
big cases you had in the past year were with Bellomi and that artifact.”

She snapped her
fingers, memory coming back to her. “Bel. It’s Bel’s curse. Half of it was
altered and breaking down, that’s why it wasn’t in its true form. No wonder I
couldn’t recognize it straight off.”

Morgan’s
eyebrows kissed his hairline. “Bellomi’s? But that happened over a decade ago.
Does that mean this magician was running around even then?”

“And had
considerable knowledge and skill. It took that in order to reach two men under magical
protections.” She banged a hand against the table. “Ha! Good, now I have a
better idea of what this man is capable of.”

“So, he has to
be at least middle-aged?”

“He could be
far older and taking age reduction potions for all we know. But he’s not a
young magician, that we can be certain of.” Sevana felt an odd sense of
satisfaction for figuring it out. Maybe with that puzzle solved, her brain
would let her sleep now. 

“Anything else
I need to know about?”

Sevana pondered
for a moment. “Can’t think of anything. I’m going to bed. Wake me before the
merchant gets here.”

“You think I
can’t recognize them straight off?” Morgan sounded slightly insulted by this.

“You probably
can,” Sevana denied, draining her glass, preparing to stand. “But I have a
feeling that his style changed, and his method, with each portrait. The
earliest ones might look different enough that you won’t see them for what they
are.”

“Ahhh. Alright,
I can see how it might be helpful to have you hovering nearby.”

Snorting, she
gained her feet. “Why do I put up with you again?”

“My devastating
charm and good looks?”

“Nope, that’s
not it.” Shaking her head, amused in spite of herself, she waved a good night
and headed for the door. If she was to be of any use tomorrow, she needed at
least eight hours of sleep first.

~ ~ ~

Morgan’s
artistic eye was better than she’d given him credit for. He could indeed pick
all of the right ones out of the stack of fifty ink portraits brought to them.
(The merchant had apparently decided to err on the side of caution and packed
everything that bore even a remote resemblance to their directions.) Sevana
harbored a sneaky suspicion on one of them that Morgan was only able to
recognize it because of the backwards name, though. Even she barely recognized
it for what it was.

Every other
portrait was blazing with energy but this one. It was glowing, certainly, but
in a muted way and the craftsmanship of the portrait was cruder and more
slapdash. It made her worry about the old man trapped by it. Was the magic
constructed well enough to be able to reverse it and get him back out whole?
There was a niggling seed of doubt that she wouldn’t be able to save this man.
That was not a feeling that she liked.

They found
seven portraits that morning. Sevana eyed them, arrayed out along the edge of
the man’s cart, and felt a sense of satisfaction. Seven here, the two she had
in the palace, and there was enough of a difference between the two that she
felt like she had found all of his trials.

Now if only
Princess Amas’s portrait would show up.

Morgan came to
stand at her side. “This enough?”

“I think this
is all of them, actually. Except Amas’s portrait.”

“I’ll join the
search for that one.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you leaving now, then?”

“Yes. Help me
slide these into tubes.”

They packed up
and, with the merchant’s efficient help, managed to get them all back to the
palace without any issues. Morgan went into her temporary workroom and let out
a whistle. “It’s all gone. You took everything back to Big already?”

“Everything but
Grydon,” she confirmed. “Don’t stop here, take these through to the courtyard
and strap them onto Flappy.” She had retrieved the device earlier, seeing as
how she couldn’t portal everything home.

“I can’t
believe you called your new flying device Flappy.”

“It flaps,
doesn’t it?” Smirking at him, she eyeballed the Illeyanic wolf dogging her
heels. “Grydon. Go through the clock.”

He whined at
her in protest, shifting from paw to paw.

“Don’t give me
that. You can’t fly with me this time, I’m carrying too much. Go through the clock
and wait there.”

Grydon gave her
his best set of puppy eyes.

“Wolf. Don’t
give me that. I’ll be back at Big in eight hours. An eight hour separation
isn’t going to kill you.” Pointing a stern finger toward the door she
commanded, “Clock.”

Letting out a
disgusted huff, he slunk for the clock. She followed him, opening the door and
letting him through before firmly shutting it again. “Why does he love flying
so much?” she grumbled to herself as she headed back toward the courtyard. “I
mean, seriously, you’d think he was part cat, the way he loves high places.”

Morgan had
everything strapped on for her. He looked up as she came through the door.
“Grydon set?”

“Why does he
like flying so much?”

“I have no
idea. Baby’s influence?”

Maybe that was
it. Swinging a leg over the seat, she settled herself in. “Kip, I tried to talk
to either Firuz or Malia this morning but couldn’t catch either of them. I
finally left a message with Captain Kamran. But if they ask, update them on
everything
but
the Fae ink. I don’t know how they’ll take that
information.”

“Right.” Even
though they were alone here, he lowered his voice to admit, “It worries me that
the princess’s portrait hasn’t shown up yet. The whole country is looking for
it.”

It worried her
too. “Maybe he gave it to a merchant out of the country?”

“It’s a thought
that occurred to me as well. Or a collector has it and isn’t about to give it
up. Collectors are strange people.”

“Understatement,
Kip.” Touching the base with a flat hand, she activated the machine. “Do what
you have to.”

“Oh, I don’t
have to twist arms. I have a set of royal parents doing that for me.” Grinning,
he stepped back. “Keep me posted!”

“As I can,” she
promised, already kicking up into the air.

It was a relief
in more ways than one to be leaving Sa Kao behind. All of those restrictive
customs had just about driven her mad. Not to mention the spicy food. She might
be able to only handle bland food for the rest of the year. Flying helped her
clear her mind as well. Sevana had to focus on where she was going and keeping
Flappy upright, turning her mind away from the problem she had been chewing on
for over two weeks now. It was a welcome relief.

The skies were
clear, the weather at that perfect temperature where it wasn’t too hot, and no
storms were threatening. Sevana made the best time she’d ever achieved in
getting back to Big. She set down on the top of her mountain just as the sun
was setting, painting everything in shades of red and gold and purple.

Big rumbled a
greeting to her, which she returned with a pat. “Master’s supposed to come
soon, Big. You might want to open his room.”

Here
,
the mountain informed her.

She stopped
dead. “He’s here already?” It should have taken him until tomorrow afternoon,
earliest, to make it here from Belen. “How did he manage that?”

Flew.

“Ah.” Sevana
had assumed that Master would use his traveling carriage to get here, but if he’d
snagged Sarsen’s flying contraption, of course he’d make it here much faster.
It was just as well that he was, as Sevana was ready to dig back into the
problem and wouldn’t mind having someone to bounce ideas with. “Take care of
Flappy for me?”

Yes.
Big
seemed to ponder before adding,
Grydon sulking.

Sevana snorted.
“Of course he is. Let him sulk, he’s just pouting because he didn’t get to
fly.” Shaking her head, she gathered up all of the tubes and shut her flyer
down so that Big could store it for her. Then she made her way down the winding
stairs and into her workroom.

After two weeks
of making do with someone else’s space, it was a relief to be back in her own
rooms, with all of the tools handy and the comfort of working in her pajamas if
she felt like it. Upon entering, she found Master already situated in an easy
chair he’d dragged in, feet propped up on a battered ottoman, intently staring
at an art easel in front of him.