A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (7 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Murder by the Docks

I believe my master Cessina fully intended to break the Kaskea, not just weaken it. At the time, he thought Tyrra’s ruler would never again need to command the Phrenii. He also thought the lodestone of souls would stay forever hidden and the Phrenii would always be safe. On his deathbed, in that flash of insight many sorcerers have when it is too late, he realized he was wrong on all accounts.

—From the notes of Sorceress-Apprentice Lahna, tentatively dated T.Y. 1014 (New Calendar)

When Draius and Lornis arrived at the office near the docks, the similarities to the murder of Councilman Reggis were obvious. Symbols had been painted in blood on the floor around the body, while two concentric circles with a scripted ‘N’ were drawn on the wall. The dead man in the middle of the room had been eviscerated. The deep incision twisted a bit across his torso, maybe made incrementally, one section at a time. This time, she didn’t doubt the blood on the floor and walls belonged to the victim.

She studied him. She never forgot a face, but features frozen in agonizing death weren’t always recognizable. Trying to imagine the countenance without the mask of terror and brutality from his slow death, she was fairly sure she’d never seen this man before.

The victim was Danelo Torna Tellina, an importer and owner of multiple ships. As his name indicated, he was Sareenian. Several years ago he’d moved his operations to the port of Betarr Serasa from Illus, a Sareenian City-State. The victim’s clerk unlocked the office this morning and discovered the carnage. He immediately notified the watch. This time no one had been allowed into the room, except those with authorization.

“Over here, Draius.” Norsis bent over the body, making notes and clicking his tongue in concentration. He was the City Guard Coroner, complementing his regular mortician business. Coroner work didn’t normally provide full time employment, but this eight-day was disproving that theory.

“He’s been here a while.” Norsis clicked his tongue again.

“How long?” she asked. They’d arrived just past noon and she hadn’t had lunch yet. Despite the stomach-churning sights in this room, she was hungry.

“Maybe a day, maybe longer. It’ll be difficult to decide time of death—not like Reggis.”

“Speaking of Reggis, where’s your full report?”

“On your desk, Lieutenant Commander, as we speak.” The coroner’s voice was muffled since his cheek pressed against the floor on the other side of the body. He heaved an exasperated sigh and sat up, rocking backwards onto his heels. “If
anyone
would like to help, I still have fingers unaccounted for.”

She rolled her eyes at Lornis, who gave her a weak smile. Perhaps he needed a break. “Lornis, why don’t you go outside and collect statements while I help Norsis.”

“Yes, ser.” He promptly made for the door.

“Thinking he’ll break when we go hunting for body parts?” Norsis asked.

“Not everyone can handle this. At least, not initially.”

“You did fine when you started. Erik went through at least four floaters before he could keep his food down.” The term “floater” was slang for bodies found floating in the canals near the wharves. “I bet your pretty lieutenant is heaving outside right now.”

“Perhaps he is, but it’s normal. Not everyone is as
lucky
as we are.” She put a sarcastic tweak on her words, getting a grin from the thin coroner.

She helped him in his gruesome, but necessary, task. It became a difficult dance, moving about the body, avoiding the blood to keep from messing up the odious artwork. In the end, they had to list six fingers as missing from the scene. More absent body parts, similar to the other murder. Were they gruesome mementos?

Otherwise, there was little physical evidence of interest. This time there were no vials, no change purse, no parchment left beside the victim—thinking back upon those items, she remembered them arranged neatly, almost obsessively lined up by height and
demanding to be noticed
… Unsure where her mind was traipsing, she filed this thought away for later.

Tellina had been murdered in his own stark and functional shipping office. When it was closed, he usually kept the office locked, although several employees had keys. She didn’t touch the piles of folders on his desktop, probably paperwork for running his ships and imports. Searching the desk drawers, she found a locked cash box.

“Did you find a key on the body?” she asked.

Norsis rummaged in a bag and produced a small key. She opened the cash box with it. Inside was more than a tyr in small change, probably his petty cash. It could feed someone for an erin, if they were careful. She searched the desk further and found a gold brooch in the shape of a butterfly, placed inside a small, carved wooden box. A normal criminal would never have left such prizes. She kept the box aside to give to his family.

Norsis had the body loaded on a stretcher and carried out to the coroner’s wagon that waited outside. She followed him outside and stood on the creaking, weathered stairs to the office. Lornis stood beside the steps, blinking, his eyes watering. He wouldn’t have been the first to lose his stomach contents at this scene, but she hoped he’d been discreet.

There was commotion on the other side of the wagon. A watchman dragged Andreas, editor of the
H&H
, over to stand in front of Draius.

“He tried to get a look at the body, ser.”

Andreas sputtered and his shirtsleeve had come untied while he struggled against the City Guard that outweighed him by a couple of stones. The editor was short and obviously not acquainted with physical exercise.

“I have a right to give the public information about this murder.” Andreas squirmed in the Guard’s grip, his face red.

“Yes, you do,” she replied, motioning to the Guard to release the editor.

Mollified, Andreas straightened his clothes. “Then I can look inside the office?”

“No. While you can publish anything you want, you’re not allowed access to the body or the murder scene. You can apply for a copy of the coroner’s report down at Headquarters. That is proper written procedure,
under the King’s Law
.” She raised her voice to ride over his protests.

“Can you at least give me a statement, Officer Draius?” Andreas’s tone was sullen.

“This is our statement: The City Guard is following several leads, but we cannot yet reveal our suspicions.”

The editor snickered. “And the connection between the two murders?”

“No comment.”

“Any use of magic?”

“No. That’s ridiculous.”

“Was he gutted like the councilman? Left inside a locked room?” He was coatless and tugged on his vest, perhaps in unconscious memory of the watchmen’s rough handling. His sleeves were worn and stained with ink. At one time Andreas employed several tailors, but he no longer had the funds to stay on the cutting edge of fashion.

“No comment. You’ll have to look at the reports when they’re released.”

“That’ll be days from now. Erik used to give me exclusive information.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “If that were true, you shouldn’t have killed his career.”

“I’m flattered that you attribute such power to me, Officer Draius, but Erik was responsible for the decline of his own reputation. I merely printed the facts.”

Privately, she agreed that Erik caused his own fate, but she was in the mood to cut down Andreas. “Well, we’ll see how long you can afford to print your
facts
. How deep are your pockets, or should I ask how deep do your lineal funds run?”

Instead of having the desired effect, Andreas grinned at her spiteful words. “I’ll be here a while. I’ve found patrons. The bookseller I recently mentioned has been besieged by customers and she’s willing to pay for more attention. Other merchants may follow.”

“Where is your
truth
, then, if it is paid for?” she asked.

Andreas only shrugged. “About the body—”

“Escort him out of here.” She summarily gestured to the Guards. Andreas gave her a resentful look as the two burly City Guard trotted him down the street and to a bridge that led away from the docks.

“Are you sure that was wise?” Lornis asked in a quiet undertone, leaning toward her. His breath was acrid from vomit.

Draius suddenly felt oppressed; everywhere she turned, she was hemmed in by the smell of vomit, blood, or canal water stinking of decay. She rubbed her temples. “It’s best if Andreas thinks we’re incompetent. I want the guilty parties to feel they have us stumped.”

“Are we stumped?” At least his eyes were looking bright again.

“No. At least, I’ll never admit that. Come on, let’s go through the rest of the office.”

They skimmed through the documents and found nothing unusual in the cargo declarations and shipping manifests, but they didn’t have experience in shipping, importing, or exporting. In case they missed something important, she closed off the office with a seal of the King’s Law. Besides, it might flush out the next of kin who’d need to remove the seal.

Outside, she glanced at the low sun. “Ready for an early supper?”

“I don’t think so.” Lornis looked uneasy. “I never thought I’d
ever
say this, but I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll get used to it.” She pulled out her spring watch, one of the few expensive gifts from her father that she’d kept. The time was five hours past noon. “It’s too late to examine the rooms at the Sea Serpent; the evening crowd is starting. Let’s make a stop by the Royal Library and save the pub for tomorrow.”

It was time to do a little research on a long-dead sorcerer named Nherissa.

•••

Draius turned the bound sheet of parchment, which was in surprisingly good condition. She had directly gone to the section titled “ERA FOUR: In which Tyrran expansion and control of the mapped world rises, while her sorcerers dwindle.” In the shelves marked for Cessina there were few documents, and these were the only pages she found that referred to Nherissa.

I write this entry tonight with a heavy heart. Based upon these notes I’ve read, I’m convinced Nherissa has become so embroiled in this evil art that he cannot be saved. I cautioned him, specifically, against this line of study.

“The dead do not give up their secrets lightly,” I told him. “You might not want to pay their price.”

He laughed at me. “Don’t you wonder why the Phrenii hide the death magic from us? Perhaps this is a way to spur talent in mankind.”

Draius shivered from the cold draft that went through the cavernous marble library, raising scents of old leather, parchment, and linen. Where was Lornis? A sign said they should ask the Royal Librarian for assistance and she’d sent Lornis to do exactly that. She didn’t expect to find any documents or papers by Nherissa himself, since all those materials had been destroyed long ago, but there should be plenty of notes left by Cessina.

Looking back down the aisle of shelves to the center of the library, she saw a few students hunched over their studies and wearing cloaks against the chill. This library was maintained through royal grants and she supposed those grants included private Meran-Viisi funding as well, but that wasn’t her business.

The pages were written in blocked handwriting because the inks of that era required slow, methodical lettering, and careful blotting. She continued reading.

I know Nherissa is obsessed by the loss of our magical talents. I am also concerned, because I am rarely able to walk the Void any more.

“How long since you’ve seen a child with talent, with the ability to touch the Void?” Nherissa asked me. “You and I may be the last living men who can use elemental magic from that realm.”

I didn’t tell him I had found a child with a small amount of talent, because I had no intention of exposing her to him.

“There are still those with the Sight,” I said.

“The Sight! You think to rely upon the dreams of those who stumble about the Blindness? Might as well depend upon the ramblings of old women,” he scoffed.

“Mankind might not be meant to have elemental magic.” I spoke from my own fears, from dreams that showed me mankind would suffer greatly before any man or woman held talent again.

At my words, Nherissa became incensed. “Why should the Phrenii alone be able to use the elements? Why should they be set above mankind, when they are nothing? They are only portals. While we are real, they are merely starlight and dust.”

After that conversation, I watched his jealousy of the Phrenii grow. I followed his work as closely as I could, and his experiments began to take an alarming turn. First he attempted to coerce secrets from the dead, using large amounts of animal and human blood with his incantations.

With the mention of blood, Draius paid more attention.

Then he discovered that torture and death have power. What followed were more heinous acts, such as torturing animals and humans in ceremonies to bind that power into objects.

His research has progressed to evil conclusions. I have read his notes and, by his own words and hand, Nherissa has shown himself.

There was no more in Cessina’s hand, but all Tyrrans knew the explosive conclusion. At the bottom of the page, other handwriting caught her eye. It was darker, written with modern ink in a running style. Draius squinted to read the small letters.

“Necromancy,” she read, “was first formed as Nherissa’s attempt to communicate with the dead. He expanded it into a mechanism for collecting power, but collection must be done carefully, so as to protect the practitioner. See Nherissa’s notes, Year 180 of the Sixth Era, O.C.”

She frowned. How could
Nherissa’s
notes be cross-referenced in modern script when they were all destroyed after his death? Hearing footsteps, she stepped out from the scroll and loose paper archival storage. Lornis and the Royal Librarian were coming down the hall. Lornis walked with a cat-like, graceful step. He slipped through the air currents untouched, while the librarian’s green robes billowed. On the librarian’s chest was embroidered a candle, the Tyrran symbol for wisdom. Around the walls of the library assistants were lighting the gas, as the building had been recently modernized.