A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (8 page)

“Greetings, Officer Draius. I am Nokka, at your service.”

“Greetings. We’ll need your assistance, ser, in examining archival manuscripts—” she did a quick calculation, looking down at the scribbled note on the bottom of the page in her hand, “Around year 930, by the New Calendar.”

There was silence. She looked up. Lornis had an odd look on his face, while Nokka’s face twitched with anger and wariness.

“It appears there was a robbery,” Lornis said.

“When?”

“Last summer, around Erin Six. The archives. It was a staggering loss—those items were donated by the Meran-Viisi eras ago.” Nokka’s mustache twitched with a life of its own.

“This good ser thought we were following up on his report, which he made to the Office of Investigation.” Lornis raised his eyebrows and when she glanced down at the reference she held, he added, “There’s no inventory of the missing items, although they’re sure that none of Cessina’s materials were taken.”

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, noting the puzzlement in Lornis’s eyes.

“I’ve received no response from the City Guard since the robbery and it’s almost been a year.” Nokka’s outrage was obvious in his tone, as well as his mustache. Erin Six would be at the beginning of last summer, after Erik became OIC of Investigation and insisting on handling each case himself. Even though this happened under Erik’s watch, she didn’t think Nokka cared about the distinction and she agreed. But, something was wrong here…

She held the key in her hand. This document held a recent cross-reference to Nherissa’s notes, which
should not
exist
, not under the King’s Law. Added to this was the robbery of items the Library was loath to enumerate. Erik might have perceived these inconsistencies but probably ignored the robbery, thus avoiding a confrontation with the Royal Library and the powerful Pettaja-Viisi. Luckily, she had no compunctions about offending librarians, nor any worries about saving a professional reputation.

She made a quick bow of apology. “I’m new to my job, and I apologize for failing to look over the current case load. The recent murders have taken all my attention, to the detriment of current investigations.”

“Of course, the murder of Councilman Reggis,” Nokka said, mollified. “I must apologize also, Officer. I forgot.”

“However, you
must
provide an inventory of everything stolen from the library last year.” Her tone was suddenly clipped and commanding, using her upper-city education and intonation.

Nokka’s eyes widened. “Bu—but we don’t have such a list. I couldn’t provide it when I originally reported the robbery and—”

“Ridiculous! I’ve had the finest Meran-Viisi tutelage, and I’m well aware of the record-keeping done by the Royal Library and Archives.” She didn’t mention she sat elbow-to-elbow at afternoon lessons with the future King Perinon, while watching her older cousin Valos, another future King, struggle with his calculations at another table.

Nokka looked indecisive. Instead of the common watchman or City Guard he expected, he was faced with someone who must be Meran-Viisi, of the King’s lineage.

Draius pressed on. “I can prove Nherissa’s notes still existed, far into the New Calendar. No one would have referenced the Old Calendar until well after the year 1000.” She held up the page with the note penned in the margin.

“By the Horn, no one should be marring Cessina’s work!” Nokka reached for the paper, his face reddening, his lip and mouth working as if he were having a fit.

“I’m confiscating these.” She yanked the papers out of his reach. “If they’re not about necromancy, they’ll be returned. You’re also going to give me a detailed list of all the proscribed items you’re holding, as well as those stolen from the Library. I suspect they’re one and the same.”

“Are you suggesting the Royal Library ban works that contain heretical ideas?” Nokka’s voice sounded tense, like an overstretched mandolin string. “That would make us no better than the Sareenians. We offer the new work by Cabaran, while the Sareenians are frightened of it. If the works you refer to are offensive, well and fine—but I know the King, and the Meran-Viisi, support my efforts to keep an open library.”

“Officer Draius is referring to the
King’s Law
, which required the destruction of all materials concerning necromancy, or authored by Nherissa,” Lornis said.

“Oh, I suspect Nokka is quite familiar with the King’s Law.” Draius gave the librarian a tight smile.

“That is archaic law, built upon ancient superstitions, and I question your
interpretation
,” said Nokka. “We’re no longer a society that runs away from mere ideas, even when they conflict with our view of the soul’s sacred journey.”

Draius shook her head. “We’re investigating two murders, Nokka, both of which can be put on the doorstep of necromancy. What would have guided such butchery, other than historical papers of
ideas
?”

“Oh.” Nokka was taken aback. “I don’t know.”

“I have the authority, under the King’s Law, to examine your records. So, are you going to give me those lists, or do we march in front of a magistrate for a ruling on my
interpretation
of the edict against necromancy?”

“Well, if you’re going to resort to threats.” Nokka converted his outrage to justified huffiness. “Of course, I’ll have to report this to—”

“Report this to whomever you like,” she said.

“You’ll have to wait while I have a copy penned. I only have one list.”

“No need to make a copy. I can look over your original and memorize it.” She jerked her head sideways, trying to get him moving. Nokka looked dubious, but he went off to find one of his assistants, leaving her and Lornis alone.

“We’re going to have to go through all the closed cases,” she muttered.

“I suppose so.” Lornis spoke quietly as his eyes glanced around, in warning, at the echoing stone library. “Even
I
can remember there were only two open cases when you took over: the jeweler’s robbery and the councilman’s murder.”

“Three now, counting the Sareenian’s murder.” Her jaw tightened. “I want you to sit down with Usko and go through all the cases closed under Erik. He could keep me working petty crimes, away from the substantial cases, but I can’t believe he closed cases without Usko’s knowledge.”

“It’ll take time.”

“It has to be done.”

Lornis sighed. “Should we also get statements from the librarians tonight, regarding the robbery?”

“No, their memories will have drifted.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she saw Nokka coming back. “Let’s hope their statements are written and still on file.”

“This is everything that was stolen.” Nokka was holding three sheets, but he paused as a door opened across the large hall. Loud and angry voices came from the room as a small man with fuzzy, gray hair popped out. The door slammed behind him. The door’s sign, hanging from a peg, swayed and rattled. The sign read “Meeting of the Royal Academy of Science.”

“What, Taalo, kicked out again?” Nokka turned toward the small man eagerly, but Draius wasn’t about to let the librarian divert her. She snatched the sheets out of Nokka’s hand. He stroked his mustache and beard with his hand, trying to cover his frown.

She read the entries penned on the first sheet, noting such titles as “Principles Based on the Process of Necromancy,” “Binding of Power Through Death,” and “Concerning Cruelty and its Residual Magic in Tissues.” The entries were dated in New Calendar years, written toward the end of Era Four in the years 850 to 999.
All of these documents should have been destroyed per King Kotiin’s edict of 998.

The dates also fit within the last part of Nherissa’s lifetime. When mankind could use magic, the lives of the practitioners—sorcerers and sorceresses—were extended. Cessina was supposed to have lived several hundred years, if records could be believed. He might even have been present at the making of the Kaskea, albeit as an apprentice.

She tallied the entries; there were twenty written works by Nherissa and Cessina identified on the first page. She read through the second page, and gasped at the short list on the third page. “These were stolen also?”

“I said we suffered a
staggering
loss, Officer. They took one of the shards of the Kaskea left in our keeping, though only our ancestral stars would know why. The tapestry of the last stand between Nherissa and Cessina was, of course, priceless. Irreplaceable. The same can be said for the original Meran Sword of Starlight.”

She felt a flash of anger, tinged with surprise. These artifacts were part of her heritage. She’d never considered their monetary worth. “Darkness and Fury,” she swore under her breath, then asked aloud, “Why would anyone take these?”

“When I said the tapestry and sword were priceless, I wasn’t making a joke,” Nokka said. “All the items are valuable, as well as having historical significance. I’m sure buyers could be found for everything except the Kaskea shard.”

“Why no buyers for the shard?”

“Not useable by anyone but the King, of course—as if anyone would
want
to use it.” Nokka shuddered and wrapped his arms around his chest. “All the shards look like common pieces of slate with lines engraved. How would anyone prove their authenticity?”

“I don’t suppose they can ask the King to hand over his ring so they can compare them.” Lornis made an attempt at humor, but Draius wasn’t amused. Inside, she was building herself up to a cold rage, and rather enjoying the process.

“So this is how the Pettaja do their duty as caretakers?” Her voice was cold.

“We’re sworn to protect
knowledge
, not precious artifacts. These items—”

“Many of which are supposed to be destroyed. A king requested—no,
ordered
your ancestors to destroy these items, and they didn’t comply. Am I to assume the thieves took all the documents proscribed under the King’s Law?”

“Yes, that’s all of them.” Nokka was responding, in kind, to her anger. “But it’s ridiculous to expect a modern library to enforce such ancient and superstitious—”

“What’s your lineal name?”

Nokka stopped, shocked at her impertinent question. Even Lornis looked shaken by her bad manners, but she asked again. “Your lineal name, your
specific
lineage?”

“Pettaja-Viisi.” Nokka drew himself up to his full height, his mustache twitching.

Well, well. She was in the process of personally offending the second oldest and most powerful lineage in Tyrra, after the Meran-Viisi. The Royal Library had been formed to keep records of the Meran-Viisi and their rule of Tyrra. The librarian in charge would be the five star lineage, hence the tag of Viisi.

She pressed on. “You may think this trivial, a minor matter of the King’s Law, but it isn’t. Tell your matriarch that I will avoid reporting this to the magistrates, because this has become a lineal matter. My report will go straight to King Perinon and the Meran-Viisi. After that, it’s up to them.”

Even though five hundred years had passed, the Pettaja-Viisi had still failed in their duties to the Meran-Viisi King. Nokka’s face paled, and Draius figured he’d run directly to his matriarch when she left. As they walked away from the librarian, down the long center of the library, Lornis was quiet. She had a moment of regret; in retrospect, she could have been more politic. Regardless, it was done. She’d write the specifics up for Perinon and bypass the King’s Law magistrates, something the captain might not approve. As for Perinon, after seeing his reaction to the necromantic symbols, she doubted he’d let this alone.

“Officer Draius. May I presume?”

She started, abruptly pulled from her thoughts. The little man, identified as Taalo by Nokka, stepped out from the entrance alcove, as if he had been waiting for them.

The first word that came to mind when she looked at Taalo was
gray
. His eyes were blandly gray, his mustache and beard were gray, the unbraided fuzzy hair coming from his head was gray, and his skin was a dusty shade of gray, a parody of the fluid silver Meran coloring. He reminded her of the dust balls under the beds that Anja’s maid Maricie was forever battling.

“Yes?” She remembered her name had been used in the
H&H
, giving her notoriety of a sort, and Taalo could have easily overheard her conversation with the librarian.

“Can we help you?” Lornis asked.

Taalo’s mouth stretched, presumably in a smile, to reveal gray teeth. He bowed, and presented Draius with a card.

Draius gingerly took the card from his hand, avoiding his discolored fingertips. The card read, “Taalo, Apothecary, using the latest Scientific techniques of Chemistry, to be found at 62 Silta Street.”

“Greetings, Taalo.” She bowed quickly and handed the card to Lornis. “Do I have need of an apothecary?”

Frustration crossed Taalo’s face. He nodded his head toward the closed door in the library, toward the meeting room he had left. “I am forever trying to change the perception that Science is a gentlemanly pursuit of study with no practical purpose. I can make no progress with the Academy, who enjoy their useless and expensive experiments, but perhaps I can convince the City Guard.”

“Chemistry?” Lornis looked thoughtful. “You’ve abandoned the tenets of alchemy?”

“Of course, Officer. Pekon proved the transmutation of metals to be impossible in thirteen-forty-seven.” Taalo stretched his mouth again.

Lornis nodded. “Certainly he did, but not independently. The Phrenii were steering everyone away from the dangerous metal therapies of his day.”

Taalo’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no mention of the Phrenii in Pekon’s work, ser. Mankind forges our own progress forward.”

Lornis shrugged, perhaps wanting to continue, but Draius had more work to do this evening. She looked pointedly at the door, her escape from the strange little man. “Ser, are you offering advice?”

“I’m suggesting the City Guard has need of
chemistry
. Have you not run across mysterious items in your investigations? What if I could supply you with an analysis of such materials, an
identification
, perhaps?”