A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (27 page)

“Officer Draius,” Mahri said, lowering its head. “We are reporting the use of the phrenic circle last night.”

She didn’t have to ask for what purpose.
But why did they wait until now to tell me?

“It took all our aspects to track down the focus. We thought it necessary to provide you with a location, but we found you here already.”

She hoped Mahri was merely following a logical thread in the conversation, rather than reading her mind. “My clerk Usko was murdered last night. We had watchmen observing the rooms, but they never saw anyone enter or leave.”

“You will not find any indication of a physical presence,” Mahri said. “This time they have truly done murder by magic.”

“
Who
did this and how did they do it?”

“The Meran who wielded the Kaskea went mad. These people are experimenting with new-found power from their necromancy, and are learning quickly.” Although Mahri didn’t appear to be raising the volume of its voice, she could hear the creature clearly above the children.

“What about the King? Is he safe?” she asked. Was Perinon still sane?

“We insulated the King from the madness while the perpetrators focused their will from the Blindness to trigger a necromantic charm. They must have already positioned it.”

She didn’t fully follow the creature’s words, but she’d have the leisure to go over them again and again, since they were entrenched in her memory.

“They risked traveling the Blindness for this, so we are sure you will find such a charm.” Mahri gestured with its horn toward Usko’s rooms.

“And the people who did this? Do you know any names?”

“We know the Meran who wielded the Kaskea, and he despised himself for not being stronger. Before madness took him over, we know he called himself the ‘Mouse.’“

She bit back a frustrated retort. After all, these creatures were not human and they were probably incapable of understanding human idioms. “He was
calling
himself a mouse because he despised his weaknesses or timidity. This won’t help me find him.”

Mahri cocked its head to observe her better with its glowing gold eyes. She felt a thrill of fear: she didn’t intend to offend the creature.

“‘The ‘Mouse’ is
whendal
in the ancient tongue,” Mahri said in a clear and lilting voice. “In this, we are certain.”

Wendell
. A name was unique within a generation. In the back of her head, memories started crashing together, making a landslide. “I stand corrected, Phrenii. You’ve been quite helpful.” She bowed and gave the ritual farewell words she learned to give to the Phrenii as a child, “You have served us well.”

“We remain to serve.” Mahri responded with the phrase used by the Phrenii for the last thousand years.

Draius turned and grabbed her hair as it floated in front of her face, tucking it firmly under her cloak. She started back to the apartments, not bothering to watch how the Phrenii dispersed the mob of children.

“Officer Draius.” Mahri’s voice stopped her. She was turning back as the creature continued, “We also know this: a child’s life hangs in balance.”

She’d left Peri with Berin, and Wendell was Berin’s employee and friend. She stumbled. Her chest tightened. Running, she took the stairs to the flat three at a time. She had to get the arrest order out, then get to Peri.

The watchmen were wide-eyed when she returned. Few adults, other than the King, ever faced multiple Phrenii and spoke with them.

“What did they say?” Ponteva asked.

For a moment, she hesitated as her mind raced. Should she go outside the King’s Law? Who could she trust, who could she ask to follow? If only Wendell was involved, then she was panicking for no reason. She’d known Berin for years; he wouldn’t endanger Peri, would he?
A child’s life hangs in balance
. She’d let her people deal with Wendell, while she dealt with Berin. “Ponteva, get the watch and arrest Purje-Kolme Wendell.”

He left. She wondered what shape Wendell would be in, considering the Phrenii thought he was insane.

“Norsis, I have other business to attend to,” she said. “I trust your usual thoroughness when recording observations and examining the body. The Phrenii say you’ll find some sort of necromantic charm—”

“Are you well, Draius?” Norsis cocked his head.

She was dressed in civilian clothes and without any weapons. Glancing about, she noted the dead clerk’s desk, his instruments of trade arranged carefully.

“I must entrust you with a letter.” Duty, always on her mind, was now a hindrance and she couldn’t be hampered by it. She reached for pen and paper and wrote a short message. After signing, she blotted the paper carefully and folded it several times. Then she addressed it, and sealed it securely with Usko’s wax and seal. This seemed to take forever, because she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking.

“Be sure to deliver this tomorrow—
unopened
.” She handed it to Norsis, ignoring the questions on his face. There should be nothing unusual about delivering a note on Markday, when offices and businesses opened. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure she’d be seeing the usual bustle of the beginning of the eight-day.

Then she ran from the building and hailed a coach. By the time she was home, dusk was settling on the streets.

“Stay here. I’ll need you again,” she said to the coachman. He tipped his hat, looking bored.

As she let herself into the house, Anja stepped down the stairs. “Really, Draius, I don’t approve of you keeping Peri out so late. It’s past time for his evening bath.”

Her worst fears were confirmed.
I’ve been such a fool. This is all my fault.

chapter Thirty-One

Coercion

Information obtained from Illus allowed naval vessels to surprise Rhobar’s main post, but he had more stationary guns than expected. Defensive bombardment sunk four of our large galleys, although most crew survived. Fortunately, the majority of Rhobar’s galleys with heavy guns were caught in port and trapped. Loss of Tyrran life was minimal, and confiscation of Rhobar’s assets has more than made up for our destroyed ships. As for the ship my liege searches for, the
Danilo Ana
, we found no evidence of it in Rhobar’s ports.

—
Initial Report from Admiral Purje-Nelja Ahjo, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471

In a city where children are safe to roam the streets alone, in a country where every child is precious and considered to be the future of Tyrran culture, the use of a child for coercion is unthinkable. Anja’s first assumption was obvious: Peri was playing somewhere, and wasn’t aware of the time.

“I’ll send Maricie around to his cousins,” Anja said, as Draius pushed past her on the stairs.

“No need,” Draius called over her shoulder. Cold fury built, fueling her body and steadying it. Her hands no longer shook, and she changed her clothes in record time.

Before she put on her shirt and vest, she fingered the locket hanging about her neck. Perhaps she should leave the Kaskea here in Anja’s house. She opened it, stared at the shard thoughtfully, and nearly dropped it when it suddenly flared with a green light. But, just as quickly, it was gray again. It still looked like a piece of slate, no matter how she turned it in the lamplight. Did she just imagine the flash?

She snapped the locket shut and left it around her neck. The weight against her breastbone was almost comforting. Besides, the charge to protect the Kaskea shard wasn’t part of this investigation, the investigation that had put her son’s life in jeopardy. Even though her resignation from the City Guard now rested in the coroner’s coat pocket, she’d made a pledge to her King, her
cousin
, and the shard should stay with her.

When she came back downstairs, she wore her field clothes, which had no insignia so they didn’t really qualify as a uniform. Her saber hung at her hip and her short knives were stowed, two tucked inside her boots and one under her left arm.

“Where are you going?” Anja looked her up and down. Maricie stood behind Anja, her hands nervously rolling the hem of her apron.

“Maricie, make sure the coach stays,” Draius said with cool precision, remembering her transportation. The maid bobbed her head and left immediately. Anja moved to block the door, arms crossed, waiting for the answer to her question.

“Peri may have been abducted.”

“Why? Who would do such a thing?” Anja’s facade cracked; for the first time in Draius’s memory, a Serasa-Kolme face looked frightened. Kidnapping a child was beyond Anja’s capacity to comprehend.

How much should she tell Anja? Berin only needed her, so involving Anja would complicate the process of getting Peri back safely, possibly endangering the matriarch as well. Keeping her tone calm, Draius said, “This is my fault. I didn’t see the signs, and I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. This has to do with the murderers I’ve been tracking.”

There it was: Peri was in danger because of
her
, because of her job, and because she hadn’t allowed herself to see the truth about Berin. Anja’s dark blue eyes accused her, but there was nothing to do now but accept responsibility, and do whatever it took to get Peri safely back. There would be no talk of money, because demanding ransom in exchange for a child was heinous and she knew Berin didn’t need it anyway. For a moment, she felt overwhelmed by the betrayal, from someone she’d known for years—

“Then we must call the watch.” Anja turned.

“No!” she cried, stopping Anja mid-step. “Let me find out what they want, otherwise Peri may be harmed.”

“But the watch—”

“
My
first priority is Peri’s safety, but that’s not the watch’s priority. Their duty would be to apprehend criminals.”
I can’t depend upon others when it comes to the safety of my son
. She’d never felt so alone.

Maricie was holding the door open and she could see the waiting coach. She needed to get out of here. “I want your word that you won’t call the watch until I get back with Peri.
Please
, Lady Anja.” Her voice cracked and she clenched her jaw. If she could hold onto her anger, then she could keep away the dark dread that threatened to swallow her.

Anja just tightened her lips into a thin line.

Draius had no more time to argue and went out the door. As she hopped into the coach she told the driver to go to the City Guard stables, as fast as he was able. The stable hand on duty didn’t question her need for her horse well past the supper hour. She saddled Chisel herself, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, and was quickly on the streets.

Chisel was a weapon, trained for cavalry use. The warehouse district off the wharves was rough, but no one got in her way as the 18-hand-tall horse carried her through streets and dark allies, hooves clattering on cobblestones or thumping on clay. Shadows skittered out of the horse’s way and melted around corners.

She slowed to a trot when she came to the street where Berin kept his main office. She turned the corner and looked down the alley. At the end of the passage, a shack jutted out from a larger building. Figures clustered around the wooden steps of the shack, dressed in dark clothes, but there was too little light to discern numbers.

Taking a deep breath, she drew her saber quietly and urged Chisel forward so that he leaped into canter, then a gallop. On the packed clay ground, the sound of his hooves thudded and echoed off the walls. The figures at the end of the alley looked up and scattered in alarm. She counted eight individuals fleeing to the shelter of either side of the steps while she bore down on the center figure: a broad, tall fellow who didn’t flee like the others.

She brought the horse skidding to a stop short of Berin, while his cohorts scampered out of her range. Chisel stamped and snorted, causing Berin to move around to the near side of the horse and away from her sword arm. He reached up and tried to grab Chisel’s bridle, but she kneed him over so Berin missed. He slowly lowered his arm.

“I thought you’d be here earlier.” His distinctive voice carried throughout the alley.

“It took time to clean up the mess you left last night.” She kept her saber ready. “Where’s my son?”

“Lower your sword, Draius. You can kill me right here and now, but that won’t get you your boy.”

“I want Peri.” She kept Chisel sidling from side to side, in case Berin tried to pull her from the saddle. She lowered her saber hilt to her thigh to keep from fatiguing her arm.

“You think I’d keep him in my office? No, getting off your horse and agreeing to help me is the only way you’ll see him.” Berin waited, impassive, while she decided what to do.

Dark figures crept closer, out of the alley shadows, and formed a wide circle around her, her horse, and Berin. There was silence as the circle started closing. If they thought they were threatening her, they were wrong—she felt the quick rise in Chisel’s hindquarters and heard the soft thump of his hoof hitting a body. A cry of pain, and the circle hastily expanded. Meanwhile, she kept her attention on Berin.

He ignored the others as well. Taalo—there was no mistaking that mop of fuzzy gray hair—stepped out of the office to stand behind Berin. Her throat tightened.

“I give you my word, on my Honor, that I will resign my position and leave the City Guard,” she said. “No one will find out about your actions from me—if you give me Peri, unharmed.”

Taalo snickered. “As if we would believe you.”

Berin raised his hand, making the small man flinch. “I’d take that pledge on your Honor, if that was what I needed. But I need something else from you.”

Her heart sank. She’d convinced herself that she didn’t know him any more, but she was wrong. She could still see the same Berin, which was painful, but now she saw the man who would take whatever actions necessary to exact revenge upon the society and creatures who allowed his family to die. He’d never been more “wind than weather,” as he often claimed. There were deep and turbulent storms under his easy-going facade, as well as unbending purpose fed by desperation. Worse, she heard the dead undertow within the currents of his voice; the sound of a man trapped by his own struggles, a man who’d already made the decision to sacrifice himself—and possibly her and her son.

Taalo smiled as he watched her.

“So you’re running out of Meran blood?” She was rewarded by surprise on his face.

“Draius, this is the
only
way you will see your son again.” Berin’s said and she recognized the finality in his tone. She’d seen this stubbornness before, and knew he was as immovable as stone.

A child’s life hangs in balance
.

There was no point in delaying longer, so she sheathed her saber and dismounted, leaving a rein to trail on the ground.

“You understand that we must ask you to disarm,” Berin said.

She took off her sword and secured it to her saddle. “There,” she said.

Berin’s laugh made her wince. “Do you think I’m stupid? That I haven’t seen what you wear to the field? You have three more knives on you—two in your boots and one in a sheath under your arm. Take them off.”

She took off the other three knives and put them in a saddlebag. When she turned back, a figure was whispering to Berin.

He shrugged in response. “My colleague is worried about your horse. We must find a place to confine it.”

All her weapons were now on Chisel, and the horse was a means of escape for herself and her son. However, she’d naively thought Peri would be at Berin’s office.

“Don’t bother.” Draius threw the rein that ground-tied Chisel back over his neck. She stepped back and gave the horse a command, using a sharp whistle.

Chisel snorted and whirled, causing figures to scatter again. He picked up speed, unchecked, and pounded down the alley and turned back onto the street. Draius knew that no one could stop the horse until he was back at the Guard stables. At some point, someone would question his riderless presence.

“That won’t help you.” Taalo giggled, a high, quick, almost snorting sound. “No one will find you where you’ll be going.”

“I want to see my son.
Now
.” She glared at Berin, ignoring the little man.

Berin and Taalo led her into the office, while the other figures moved away down the side alley. They kept their faces hidden from Draius, which was a good sign. If they hid their identities, then they might release Peri. Berin closed the door and the three of them were alone in the office, which was minimally lit by a candle. Even in the dim light, she could see the office was stark, containing only a battered chair and a bare desk. If Berin managed his ledgers here, he kept everything inside the desk drawers.

“My son?” Pointedly.

“He’s at another location, where we’ll be going in a moment or two,” Berin said as he lit a small lantern and adjusted the wick. His voice was loud in the tiny room, causing vibrations in the old wooden structure. “We’ll have to blindfold you.”

She snorted. “What good will that do?”

“You may suffer the inquisition of the Phrenii. The less you know, the better.” Taalo’s eyes were bright and he seemed excited, his small body practically quivering.

Did they expect her to use their stolen shard of the Kaskea? She fought the impulse to touch the locket; its weight suddenly pressed on her breastbone. A shiver ran down her back as she remembered the prohibitions about attempting use of the Kaskea without supervision of the Phrenii. Hoping to divert them, she mustered up the most acidic tone she could. “Wendell is in custody by now. Is he so insane that he can’t be questioned? How many people will you hurt? How many will die in your quest for revenge, Berin?”

Regret covered his bearded face, slowly dissolving into stubborn resignation. “Contrary to what you may think, I
am
trying to do this with minimal loss of life.”

“So the deaths of Reggis, Tellina, Vanhus and numerous nunetton are ‘minimal loss of life’?”

“Disagreements, rather, which gave us a fortunate amount of power,” Taalo said.

“And killing Usko was punishment? Or was his murder an experiment?”

“Quiet!” Berin’s sharp command caused the apothecary to withdraw as far as possible to the other side of the small office. “This is not an opportunity for you to ask questions, Draius. You must be our channel to the Void tonight.”

“Why don’t you just slice me open, scatter my blood about and draw symbols with it? You can do anything to me, as long as you release my son.” She was losing control, exactly what shouldn’t happen. She took a deep breath to push down the fear and nausea rising in her stomach.

“You’re more valuable alive and pumping out blood,” Taalo said from his side of the office. Berin shot Taalo a look, and the apothecary pressed his lips together. The little man liked to talk too much.

“I won’t help you murder more people.” She looked at Berin with challenge.

“Tonight we search for a powerful artifact, not a person.”

“The lodestone?”

“That doesn’t concern you. If you help us tonight, Peri will be free to go home tomorrow morning.”

“Release my son
now
, and I’ll give you all the cooperation you need.” She watched Berin’s face carefully.

“No. Throughout this process, I want you to remember that we have Peri. The boy cannot go home until—until you’re finished.”

Until they run out of my blood? Until I’m insane and no longer a threat? She knew when Berin was hiding something.

“If I come through this evening sane?” she asked. “What then?”

Berin nodded, seeming relieved. “I’ll be candid. We need to pull a lot of power through you, more than we’ve ever attempted before. It’s likely that if you live, you’ll be… affected. But consider it a fair trade for your son’s life. He will be taken home tomorrow if you cooperate.”